35. Wolf
Despite all my prior thoughts, Serena’s hand feels right nestled in mine, like it’s exactly where it’s supposed to be. It may sound cliché or like a stupid line from a movie from the eighties, but there’s a sense of rightness that envelops me at the pressure of her palm. I’m trying to contain the smile that’s attempting to break out across my face, but it’s hard.
I was up until the early morning hours watching her as she lay across my chest like a starfish. It felt good having her there, on top of me and in my bed, and I knew that this morning, I’d confirm with her what we are to each other. I squeeze her hand, relishing how her fingers feel in mine.
I’m saved from having to think about it too much as the GPS signals that we’ve arrived at her mother’s place. It’s a modest white ranch-style house with lots of flower beds and trees in the front that look like they’ve been planted with care and consideration. I turn to Serena, about to ask her if this is the right place, when I realize that her face has gone unusually pale, and her mouth hangs open.
“Serena, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” I unclick my seatbelt and release her hand, cupping her jaw to bring her eyes to mine. “Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“What the hell is he doing here?”
“What?” I follow her gaze and stare at the Porsche Macan in the driveway next to a Honda Civic; it seems out of place in the neighborhood. Looking back at Serena, I ask a question I already know the answer to. “Whose car is that?”
“My father’s.”
“Is there any reason why he would be here?”
That seems to snap her out of her stupor. She glances at me and shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so. Wolf…” Her voice trembles. “We need to go inside. What if he’s hurting her?”
“Serena, we need to call—Goddammit,” I sigh. Serena doesn’t wait for me to finish my sentence and throws open the door, bolting toward the house with surprising speed.
I fling open my door, slamming it behind me, and race after her, stopping her just before she opens the front door. “Serena, you need to wait. Let me go in first. If your mom is in trouble, or if he has a fucking weapon, I’m not letting you walk into the line of fire.”
“I will not wait out here—” she starts, but I cut her off with a squeeze of her hand.
“And I’m not asking you to. But you need to stay behind me until we know that everything is safe.”
“Fine.”
Nodding, I drag her behind me and step up to the front door, easing it open to loud yelling from my left. Turning in the direction of the voices, I grab Serena’s hand and walk forward, trying to keep my steps as light as possible. The closer we get to the voices, the louder and more distinguishable they become.
“How dare you come into this house like I owe you something. You are a disgrace of a man, a joke of a father. I hope you burn in hell for what you have put our daughter through.”
“It’s sad that an educated woman is prone to fits of hysteria. The best thing I ever did was leave you.” My eyes widen at the cruel tone of Serena’s dad, and I hear her suck in a breath behind me. Squeezing her hand, I peek around the corner, verifying that there are no weapons. A petite woman with dark hair stands with her back to me, while an older man with gray hair and a matching beard perches against a kitchen table, arms crossed like he’s owed something.
Turning back to Serena, I whisper, “It looks like they’re just talking. No weapons, and your mother doesn’t appear hurt.” She pulls away from me, storming into the kitchen like a woman possessed.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Serena,” her mother gasps. “You’re early.”
“Daughter,” her father replies coolly. “I see you brought company.”
Serena’s fists clench, and I can see the tension spread throughout her body. “I will ask you one more time: what the hell are you doing here?”
“Such dramatics. You get that from your mother. I am picking up my last payment for the house.”
“What?”
“I—”
“Stephen, for once in your sorry excuse for a life, just stop.”
“Mom, what is he talking about?”
Her mother sighs, shaking her head at Serena’s dad before turning around to Serena. Her pretty face is washed in concern and weariness. “For the last ten years, I’ve had to pay your father a monthly rent to stay in this house.”
“But-but, you pay the mortgage.” Mrs. Castillo nods, shooting daggers toward Mr. Castillo. “And he made you pay on top of that?”
“My signature wasn’t free, Serena,” her father adds, fueling the tension in the room.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Serena storms up to him, going toe-to-toe with her father. Striding over to her, I pull her back. I would never interfere with what she needs or wants to say, but putting herself in physical danger is not happening. I don’t know shit about her dad other than that he’s a horrible person.
“Wolf,” she growls, turning her furious golden gaze to me. I just shake my head, stepping back but keeping a hold on her arm to prevent her from rushing forward again. “Fine,” she mumbles, turning back to her dad. “You piece of shit; you made her pay back the alimony through rent, didn’t you? You horrible, egotistical, selfish bastard. I hope you’re happy in your perfect house, with your perfect family. Stay the fuck away from us, stay away from my mother, and live your miserable life far away from where I can see it. You have never, not once, considered how this would impact me, not to mention this is probably illegal. Mamá.” She turns to her mother, tears streaming down her face. “Why did you give him money?”
“He wanted full custody, Mu?eca; it was the only way to keep him from taking our arrangement to the courts. I would give up everything I own to keep you safe. I already failed you by letting you miss out on your adolescence, and I refused to allow him to have more say over your life.”
“Mamá, I’m so sorry,” Serena cries. “I can’t—your savings. Did he take everything?”
“Of course not, hija, I’m fine. I don’t care about the money; I care about you.” Mrs. Castillo walks to us, throwing her arms around Serena’s frame. I release Serena’s arm and use the distraction to size Mr. Castillo up. He’s a slender man, small in stature and no more than one-hundred-sixty pounds; I’ve bench-pressed more than he weighs. He senses my appraisal and offers a toothy smile as though he has a right to be here.
Fuck that, and fuck him. Walking around Serena and her mother, I approach him, not stopping until I’m leaning over him and breathing in his air. “Get the fuck out of this house.”
“It’s my house—”
“Good for you. Do you like harassing women while they’re in their home, their fucking space, and threatening them? What the fuck kind of person does that?”
His eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Mrs. Castillo skirts around me and slaps an envelope against his chest. “Here is your money, Stephen. Now get the hell out.”
His fingers grip the white envelope, and he sneers. He must sense how close I am to pummeling his face because instead of responding, he storms past us and slams the door behind him. We all stay silent as the sound of his engine rattles the house, maintaining our stillness until the car gets far enough away that his presence is no longer felt.
“So, hija, who’s your friend?”
Laughter and tears bubble out of Serena, and before I know it, she’s hysterically crying into her hands. Instinctually, I go to her, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into my body. I let her sobs soak my shirt as I look at her mother and offer an awkward smile.
“Hi, I’m Wolf. Serena’s boyfriend.”