Chapter 40 #2
My best friend shrugs, trying and failing badly to play cool.
“What can I say, I got tired of watching her not be fucked over or loved properly.” I don’t miss the sarcasm in tone.
He lifts his gaze to meet mine and mutters softly, “I love her, always have, man. And watching her with you only cemented that. Even though having a woman like her intimidates me. It scares the shit out of me. Loving someone who can just leave at any moment? It’s a fucking blood sport.
” His mouth opens again, cheeks begin to turn red. “Fuck, Iz.”
I shake my head, nudging his shoulder playfully.
It wasn’t his fault that my heart decided to imprint on someone it had no business loving.
It’s not his fault that my love wants to give her wings so she can fly without me.
“Don’t apologize dickface. You’re not wrong, love is fucking scary.
” Letting out a huff of air, I say, “I will choose to love her anyway.”
He nods slowly in agreement. “What’s the game plan now?”
My throat tightens, my mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out. Panic surges through me, blood rushing to my ears. “Nothing. No plan, just peace. Finding it.”
That word, peace. It’s stuck with me. It rings in my head like an unwanted mantra. Yet I cling to that, hoping that my pain finds her peace, and in return, helps me find mine. I didn’t want to be her pain. On the contrary, I want to be her peace.
Even if it means the opposite for me.
“I don’t have much fight left in me. I’m done with it,” I finally admit, understanding that I can’t fight fate.
When things are bound to happen, they just do.
Things aligned for them to fall into place, and I was done fighting fate.
“I’m done with the cage. I’m done fighting what I feel.
Fighting life. Dude, I just want to breathe.
I’m washing my hands of all of it. And gonna focus on the little things that feel right. ”
He quirks a brow, realizing where this conversation is headed. “With the baby?”
It’s not really a question, the way he says it—it’s more like understanding.
Sledge dips his chin low, not an ounce of surprise but relief.
“I was hoping you would say that. Not so much about the baby, just everything else.” He chuckles softly.
“You’re choosing to live. For yourself.” His hand grasps my shoulder firmly, forcing me to look into his gaze.
“I love you, man.” With a shake of his head, he blinks away the shimmer in those blue orbs.
“And I’m happy because this is the first good thing you’ve said in weeks. I was really scared for a minute.”
I swallow hard, the lump forming in my throat giving in without force. “Doesn’t feel good.”
“It won’t.” He smirks, squeezing my shoulder and giving me a little shake. “But it’s the first step towards being the man that kid is gonna need. The man I’m sure Ronnie fell head over heels for… and that, one day, she will return to. I know it.”
I don’t respond… I can’t…
All I do is turn away, wishing I felt as confident in my words as he does.
I don’t. I’m not sure what the fuck to do…
Am I even a good fit to be a father? What am I doing with my life?
It’s like I’ve been at a standstill. So focused on everything I lost and her, that my own life is just passing me by. Then it dawns on me. “I gotta go.”
His brows pull together. “Why? Where?”
Within seconds, I’m on my feet, grabbing my keys and putting on my jacket. “Because there’s someone I need to talk to.”
“You good, bro?” he asks quietly, rising to his feet.
My heart settles in my chest, and my mind, for a split second, finds relief.
I don’t bother replying to his question.
My hand reaches for the back of his head, shocking him in place as I press our foreheads together.
“Life knew what it was doing when it made you my best friend. Thank you, I think I need to talk to my dad. I need my dad.”
He chuckles. “Fuck yeah, you do.”
With that, we pull away and head towards the door, and after locking it, we continue our path down the hall, in the comfort of silence.
The drive to our parents’ place is quiet, feels longer than it ever has, even though I've done it a thousand times before. It’s still raining.
The roads stretching before me are wet and endless, pulling me through memories I don’t want to see.
My mind drifts towards Sledge and our conversation.
I told him I was done fighting, but the truth is, I don’t know who I am without it.
Fighting is all I have ever known. Fighting is all I want to do.
Since the day my mother died, I’ve been fighting to stay afloat.
To beat the pain that seems to never stay away.
Without the blood.
Without the anger. Without feeling something I can control.
Then who the fuck am I?
I turn the corner, driving down the streets that we used to walk down as kids.
Every corner is a stark reminder of everything I adore.
By the time I turn onto my parents' street, my chest is tight, and my hands ache from how hard I’ve been gripping the steering wheel.
Dad’s outside. Even in the rain, he tends to his plants, making sure they all soak up the water that falls from the skies.
It’s dark out, and he should be getting ready for bed, but here he is.
The garage is open, giving me a full view of the wood we got, the project I never got a chance to bring to life after learning Ronnie was pregnant.
My stomach drops as I pull into the driveway and park the Camaro before stepping outside.
“Isn’t it too late for you to be awake?” I tease, knowing it truly isn’t that late. The sky is just dark and shielding the sun. I walk towards the edge of the garage where he stands with a potted pothos in hand. “And raining, old man.”
Dad looks up at the dark sky, pretending not to notice the rain. “Would you look at that mijo… It's like the whole reason that I’m out here.”
I chuckle at that, letting the playful banter distract me from what's lying feet away.
The reminder of what could have been. I picked that wood out, with the hope we could make the baby a crib.
So fucking happy to surprise her with it.
That never happened, of course, as our hope came tumbling down in a fit of blood.
Dad follows my gaze. I feel him turn his attention towards it.
“You look tired, mijo,” he says as he places the plant on the ground so it can collect all the water it needs to flourish.
A huffy laugh escapes my lips. “Tired doesn’t even cut it.”
He studies me for a long moment, his wrinkles in his forehead more prominent as he jerks his head towards the wood bench. “Come here for a second, let me show you something.”
Taking a deep breath in, my body hesitates momentarily before following him.
The smell of wood blends with the scent of rain and earth.
I examine the board. It looks freshly sanded, and the color is light and warm.
It punches something in my chest, making it ache, and my eyes sting.
Dad comes up beside me, tapping the wood lightly.
“Been sitting for a long time, I figure it’s time to do something with it.”
I run my tongue over my teeth, my jaw clenching along with my hands. “Glad you could find use for it.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I was thinking more about how we could use it.”
My brows shoot up as I give him a ‘the fuck are you talking about’ look. I blink again and then again. “Da–”
He lifts his hand to stop me from talking. “I know it hurts. I also know that you plan on stepping up even though you don’t have to. Your situation is peculiar, and yet, you rise above it. I know you’re mourning one life, but there’s one here now. And that life will need you.”
A slow pain unfurls in my ribs, drawing the wind from my lungs, leaving me breathless and with a sharp pain in my chest. I watch as my father leans his hip against the wood bench, sighing as he runs his finger down the sanded board.
“When your mother died, I swore I would never be enough for you. I mean, who could replace Isamar? I didn’t know how to do any of it because she did it all.
I didn’t know how to fill her shoes, and honestly, didn’t know if I wanted to.
” He shakes his head with contemplation.
“Mijo, I didn’t know how to keep that house running, or how to raise a little boy when I barely understood myself.
I was in a dark place, but you were a small flicker of light. ”
I clear my throat, trying to hide the emotions that overtake me. We never talk about mom, not because he didn’t try, but I just never wanted to. This time, I listen carefully to what he says. “But you know, I learned. Not because I was ready.” He shrugs. “I learned because you needed me.”
The words pierce straight through me, pulling at emotions I never knew I was capable of feeling.
I feel a single tear run down my cheek, my gaze lifting to find him watching as he steps closer.
“This is not what I wanted for you, son, pero sangre de tu sangre es sangre mía.1 That kid is gonna need someone steady, out of prison. Someone who shows up. Someone who chooses them even when the situation isn’t ideal.
Or you're terrified. You never stop being terrified.
That's what happens when you become a parent. The fear never leaves, it just blends with the love.”
My throat constricts, making it hard for me to swallow. My mouth is dry, making my voice croak when I speak. “What if I screw up?”
“Then you fix it,” he says, clasping my shoulder, firm and grounding. “That’s what fathers do. Sons, too, when they finally become men. And you’re one of the good ones. One any father would be proud of, I know I am.”
A shaky breath escapes me, my shoulder dropping under the weight of everything I’ve been carrying, allowing him to help me with it.
“Stay for dinner,” he demands because it wasn’t a suggestion. It was a demand from a father to his son. I shake my head, not wanting to stop Ronnie from coming over. I’m sure she would stop by today, after all, it’s her day with Nixie.
“I can’t… Ronnie is with Nix,” I reply, pulling away when I realize it’s getting late, and I should get going before she gets here. “I’ll come over tomorrow for some arroz con guandules and chuleta.”
Dad chuckles. “I’ll be right on it.”
I start to walk away when Dad calls me, “Son…” Causing me to cast a glance over my shoulder. “Let her choose her path. If she comes back, good. If she doesn’t… You choose yours anyway.”
I simply nod, not trusting my voice, before forcing myself to turn away and leave.
1. But But the blood of my blood is mine.