CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE ALARA
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ALARA
I didn’t think it’d be possible for a fracture to split an already-broken heart, but it is.
When I walk into my tiny office the next morning, what’s left of my heart falls to pieces, the remnants scattered at the bottom of my stomach, almost making me collapse to the ground.
Atop my desk there are two items I know so well I could draw them in my sleep: a to-go cup and a paper bag from the Latte Lounge.
I’m completely exhausted from the lack of sleep and my emotions have been in a whirlwind since yesterday’s argument, so when I walk over to the desk, it feels as though I’m dragging my feet.
A sigh of defeat escapes me as I sit down, my bag falling to my feet, my jacket still on. Emotion rises in my throat, and when I reach out to grab the cup I notice how badly I’m trembling. The scent of cinnamon fills the air.
The sight of Diego’s handwriting on the side makes a sob rise in my chest.
I’m sorry, he’s written. Next to it, he’s drawn a saddened emoji, the exact same way he did when he was trying to apologize for being a major dick when he first started working here. That feels like ages ago.
Tasting salt on my lips, I understand I’m crying, and when I dry the evidence with the back of my hand, I notice the silhouette that’s looming in the doorway.
My skin heats like it’s been exposed to sparks, my body knowing exactly who can elicit such a reaction.
I can’t find a sliver of strength in me to look away, so when I drag my gaze up his gorgeous physique to focus on his equally handsome face, my breath catches.
His devastated eyes are on me, soft and vulnerable, veiled by a thick layer of sadness.
“Alara,” he rasps. My name is a whisper on his lips, quiet, and yet destroying everything in its path.
He takes a tentative step forward, and when I don’t stop him, his shoulders relax a little. He walks further into the room – all four steps to reach the desk – and once he’s by my side, he drops to his knees, his hands gently spinning my chair so that I’m facing him.
This close, and as he looks up at me, I can see the fatigue in his face.
The heavy bags beneath his bloodshot eyes.
The quiver in his chin as he tries to find the words to say.
On either side of my chair, his knuckles whiten with the intensity of his grip, like he’s forcing himself to touch anything but me.
I want to leap into his arms, pepper his skin with kisses, and forget about how our poor communication has led to this destruction. But first, I have to apologize.
“Diego,” I start. My voice is like sandpaper. “I’m—”
“I’m sorry,” he interrupts firmly, unshed tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean a thing I said. I was just—”
A knock on the door jamb startles us both, but we don’t look away from each other. Diego’s eyes track a single tear rolling down my cheekbone, and I can sense how it affects him. As if the sight of my distress hurts him. As if he can’t bear seeing me like this.
“Hello, sorry to interrupt,” Thomas says sheepishly.
From my peripheral vision, I can see him swaying in discomfort.
“Diego, you’re needed in the snowboard section.
A teen is asking for your advice. Also, change of plans for today’s schedule, you’re in the atelier to wax the boards that just came back from renting.
Alara, you’re on front desk duty with Joe, because it looks like it’s going to be a busy day. ”
Letting his head fall forward, Diego sighs heavily.
Then, he looks at Thomas and nods before pushing himself to his feet.
I don’t think it’s intentional, but his fingertips graze my thigh, the usual chills rising in the wake of his touch.
His cologne trails behind him, eliciting another wave of nostalgia inside me.
When he’s out of the room, he pivots and tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
There’s a small tic in his jaw when it tightens, then his rough voice echoes. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“You already said that.” It’s an attempt at sending him a little jab of humor to let him know nothing’s changed between us – that I don’t want anything to be different.
The corner of his mouth tilts upward. He dips his chin, swallowing thickly. “Well, when you’re ready to talk, let me know.”
I nod and watch him turn away from me, the hollow in my chest expanding further and further. “Diego?” When he halts, he doesn’t look at me, but I see the strain in his shoulders. “I’m sorry too.”
“I know.”
And when his footsteps fade away, the floodgates open for the first time today, and I don’t think I can survive another minute without him.
“Pizza delivery!”
Mom storms inside my cabin, Dad hot on her heels with a square box in hands. Jordan follows suit, kicks his shoes off, then looks up at where I’m perched in the middle of the staircase with a blanket wrapped around me.
“You look like shit,” Jordan observes, before making himself comfortable on my couch. Tabby instantly finds his lap to curl up on.
“Flattering and lovely,” I mumble, and descend the remaining steps. “Thanks.”
I’m not sure what they’re doing here, but after the way I left during my lunch break because I couldn’t breathe, let alone think properly, I think they’re here to comfort me.
Keep me company. All afternoon long, I’ve felt like the walls were closing in on me, suffocating me, and seeing their faces heals a part of me that’s been hurting for over twenty-four hours now.
Mom knows everything that went down with Diego because last night was supposed to be board-game night over at the house, but I didn’t show up.
When Mom called and asked if I was okay, I’d all but choked out a weak no while wallowing in my bed with Tabby sleeping on my chest. I told her everything then, and I think Dad was listening too, because, this morning at Rock Snow, he merely pressed a kiss to my temple and whispered that I’d be alright.
I don’t suspect Jordan of knowing anything, but if he asks I’ll tell him too.
“Jordan,” Mom chastises, as she brings some plates and wineglasses to the coffee table. “Be nice to her. She’s heartbroken.”
“It’ll pass,” my brother says, caressing Tabby under her chin and dismissively waving his other hand. Her purrs are loud, a comforting sound that cuts through the chaos inside my head. “Diego’s ready to crawl and beg for forgiveness.”
I pause, sitting next to him. “He told you about us?”
“Didn’t have to. I saw the way the guy looks at you. To be frank, he’s looked at you like that since he came back.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re his whole world, Alara.” He says it with such conviction, as though nothing else would make sense. My breath catches, my vision on the cusp of getting hazy with sadness again.
Mom comes round my other side, wrapping her arm around my shoulders to pull me in. I soak in the warmth, the comfort, only now realizing that I’ve been in dire need of affection. In the kitchen, I hear Dad busying himself by uncorking a bottle, humming the way he always does when lost in thought.
He’s very fond of Diego – everyone sees it – but I wonder if he’s feeling murderous right now, because his daughter’s heart is shredded to infinitesimal pieces. Honestly, I inflicted this on myself, but facing all the consequences of my actions has been pretty damn painful so far.
“It’ll be okay,” Mom whispers, kissing the top of my head. “You guys will figure it out.”
Hope blooms somewhere in my chest. I know, deep in my core, that Diego and I are not over – we just need to get our shit together.
What we had was too good, too beautiful, to let go.
Maybe it happened fast, but it was real.
It was alive. It was burning, and I know that no one else will ever make me feel the way he does.
I blow out a long breath. I just want the pain to dissipate.
I just want him. And if he leaves now? I’ll find a way to keep our fire alive, because I refuse for our flames to be doused by our stupidity.
Right now, we both need a bit more space, even if he admitted being ready to talk.
He had several opportunities to call me or show up at my place to discuss it, but I think the only reason he hasn’t spoken up yet is because he’s still deciding what to do.
I trust him to make the right choice. And if his final decision doesn’t include me, then I’ll have to accept it.
But I know what I want, and it’s to try long distance if he’s willing to give it a shot.
“I didn’t order pizza,” I croak out. I just want to think of something else other the man who holds my heart in the palms of his hands.
“Diego did.” Dad finds a seat on the carpet, facing us from the other side of the small table. He places the bottle of red next to the pizza box and he opens it before turning it for me to see its contents.
Cheese pizza.
Extra cheese.
Heart-shaped. I give a watery laugh.
But what catches my attention, and makes a lump rise in my throat, is his handwriting on the upper part of the box. I’m sorry, Alara.
“He’s got a really big heart,” Mom says, handing me a plate with a slice of pizza. I’m not even hungry, but Diego’s gesture warms my entire being.
“I’m trying to be mad at him,” I mumble. “Stop trying to point out all his good qualities.”
“He is a good man,” Dad prompts, which earns him a cold glance. He lifts his hands in semi-surrender.
Jordan has already inhaled an entire slice, and he’s reaching for seconds. “You know, Al, I haven’t seen Diego this alive in a while. It’s all because of you. You know that?”
I swallow thickly, keeping my eyes on my untouched slice of cheesy goodness. “So why didn’t he fight for me?”
“Because he’s trying to figure things out on his end.
You know his whole life revolves around snowboarding, and all his perfectly crafted plans for his future were ruined because of the stunt he pulled.
He didn’t come here with the intention of falling in love, so how do you think he’s feeling now?
And he wasn’t expecting that call from Wyatt so soon, so just try to put yourself in his shoes for a second. ”
I shrug. “He’s probably confused. Angry. I don’t blame him if he is. I was being selfish and irrational. After all, I did ask him if I was enough for him to stay just a little bit longer.”
“Oh, honey,” Mom says. “You’re this boy’s world. I saw it with my own eyes. There’s no questioning if you’re enough.”
Jordan nods and swallows his humongous bite. “You’re more than enough. And say this doesn’t work out and you two decide to stay friends – which I don’t want because I love seeing you two together – just hold on to the good memories. Just because it didn’t last doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”
I sniffle. “When did you become so wise?”
“Mom and Dad gave me the brains, and the good looks were passed down to you.”
I roll my eyes as Mom says, exasperated, “Jordan!”
“Sorry,” my brother mumbles, unrepentant, before diving for another slice. Diego should’ve gotten another pizza for Jordan alone. I swear this guy eats like he’s famished all the time. What baffles me is that he’s extra fit despite all the junk food and Red Bulls he inhales.
“Want to know something funny?” Dad asks me, a sly grin on his lips as he watches the burgundy liquid swirl at the bottom of his wineglass.
“Yes, please.”
He sets the glass down and leans back on his hands.
“When Wyatt gave me that call two months ago, he asked me if you were single.” Grimacing, I can’t help but widen my eyes while Jordan chokes on his piece of pizza.
“He asked that on behalf of Diego.” He quickly recovers when he notices our expressions.
Mom’s silent, coolly sipping on her wine.
“Because he thought that if Diego could be distracted by a girl, he would stop focusing so hard on snowboarding. Yes, Diego’s talented and a hardworking man, but he’s given his all to the sport, and, amidst medals and podiums, he’s lost himself.
He quickly became one of the best riders in the industry, but pushing himself to his limits has had its consequences.
Wyatt saw his light go out, his general optimism fade away.
When he sent Diego back here, his only wish was for Diego to find himself again. ”
I did start out as a distraction, and we weren’t supposed to have more than just a little fun, but somewhere in between our games, I became important to him. Just like he became everything to me.
“Are you saying Wyatt played matchmaker?”
A soft laugh bubbles out of Dad. “Sort of. He didn’t expect for you two to fall in love.
He only really hoped that you’d help Diego forget about what weighs him down.
He wanted Diego to have a friend. Honestly, I was a bit scared you’d be just a fling to Diego, but I quickly realized it was more than that. ”
“How? When?”
“When he showed utmost respect for you. When he promised to do and be better by being serious about working with us and assisting with the skiing lessons. He could’ve taken the first flight back to Utah his first day back, but he didn’t.”
I smile sadly down at my plate. Jordan points to it. “You gonna eat that?”
Blinking at my brother, I sigh and give him my slice. He grins, a string of cheese hanging on his chin.
“Well,” I return to Dad, “you can tell Wyatt that Diego’s back to being his electric self, and that his best rider is back in the game.”
Mom rubs my knee through the blanket. “Competing and riding might fuel his adrenaline, but it’s nothing compared to your love and what you give him.
If you’re sure that you love him, then fight for him.
Show him that he’s worth it, that in a world where he takes care of everyone there’s someone who will take care of him. ”
There’s no doubt or hesitation: Diego is it for me, and I will do everything it takes to make him believe it.
I’d lost myself in the chaos, but he is my calm.
My star. My light. He’s helped me find my voice, my future.
He’s helped embolden my confidence, and, with the delicacy of a lover, he showed me how important I am.
For the first time in my life, I learned how to love myself, despite my flaws and insecurities and uncertainties, all because of him.
And when you find your light? You hold on to it and keep it close to your heart.