43. Mariana
Mariana
T he red glow of the firehouse sign flickers against the pavement as I pull into the lot, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard I have to grip the wheel just to ground myself; I can’t breathe.
My hands tighten around the leather-wrapped steering wheel, the material groaning under the force. What the hell am I even doing here? I don’t have an answer. I just… ended up here.
The car rumbles softly beneath me, engine idling, headlights casting long, narrow shadows across the asphalt. The garage doors are shut, but with my windows down, I can hear the soft hum of voices inside. Someone’s here. A few guys on shift, maybe. Maybe him.
Just the thought sends a bolt of panic straight through me, sharp and unrelenting. I press my forehead against the steering wheel, exhaling shakily, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying to piece together how the hell I got here.
I left Anna’s house, the letter folded in my pocket, my mother’s words still etched into my ribs. Left with too many emotions tearing through me to sit still, to sleep, to exist in silence.
So I walked, I walked through empty streets lined with darkened storefronts, past the diner where Sebastian and I had spent too many late nights, past the old bookstore where we used to leave notes for each other inside random paperbacks.
Through the town I grew up in but never really felt like I belonged in, and somehow, my feet led me here. To him…or maybe just to the place that built him.
The firehouse looms ahead, bigger in the dark, its presence steady, unmoving. The place that shaped him. The place that made him the man I love, the place I should never have left.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fisting my hands in my lap, my mother’s letter still pressed to my chest like a prayer.
I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep hovering on the edges of his life, watching from a distance, too scared to step in, too terrified to fully let go.
I need to do something. I need to fix this.
Before I can talk myself out of it, my hand moves to the door handle, when suddenly…
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I freeze. The voice behind me is sharp, rough, frustrated. My stomach knots itself into oblivion before I even turn around. Slowly, I shift in my seat, forcing my breath to stay steady, but the second I meet his eyes, I know that’s not possible. Andres.
His arms are crossed tight over his chest, his firehouse jacket hanging open, his uniform underneath slightly wrinkled, like he’s been working for hours.
His stance is rigid, shoulders squared, his expression unreadable at first—just flat, distant. The longer he looks at me, the more his face hardens, something sharper flashing behind his eyes. “You’ve got some nerve, Mari.”
The words hit like a slap. I swallow hard. “Andres-”
“No.” He shakes his head, stepping closer, his voice like flint striking steel.
“You don’t get to show up here and act like this is normal. Like you didn’t walk away from him without a second glance.”
I flinch, because he’s right.
Andres exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, his frustration crackling in the air between us.
“Damn it, Mari. Do you have any idea what it was like watching him fall apart over you for the second time?” His voice isn’t just angry now…
it’s hurt. “What it was like seeing him show up to every shift looking like he hadn’t slept, pretending like he was fine when we all knew he wasn’t? ”
Guilt digs its claws deep, twisting inside my ribs, my throat, my stomach. “I know I hurt him,” I whisper.
Andres lets out a sharp bark of laughter, but it’s hollow, bitter. “Yeah? You do?” His jaw clenches, his eyes burning into mine. “You just now figured that out?”
I bite my lip, looking anywhere but at him.
But he’s not done. “You didn’t just hurt him, Mari.” His voice lowers, the words hitting deeper. “You fucking broke him.”
My chest caves in. I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides, my whole body tensing, bracing for impact. “I thought I was protecting myself.”
Andres lets out a sharp, disbelieving breath. “By what?” he demands, his voice rising. “Destroying him first?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. “I didn’t mean to-”
“Didn’t mean to?” Andres scoffs, cutting me off. “You think that matters?” His voice is razor-sharp, but there’s something underneath it, something raw. “You know, I used to think you were good for him.”
The words slice through me like a blade, because I had thought so too—once.
Andres holds my gaze, his jaw tight. “But now? Now, I don’t know if you’re just here to finish the job.”
A sharp, stinging breath catches in my throat, I can’t do this, I can’t take this. The pressure is too much, the guilt is too much, the regret is too much. “I love him.” The words rip out of me before I can stop them.
Andres stares at me. I breathe hard, my hands shaking. “I love him,” I say again, stronger this time. “I never stopped. And I…I know I don’t deserve him, I know I don’t deserve a second or third chance, but I…” My voice breaks, tears burning behind my eyes. “I just can’t let him go.”
Andres doesn’t look away. For a moment, I think he’s going to tell me to leave, to walk away, to let Sebastian move on. Maybe, a few weeks ago, he would have.
But then, his expression shifts, frustration melting into something else, something quieter, something knowing.
“You better be damn sure about that, Mari.” His voice is low, serious.
Unforgiving. He’s giving me one shot, one chance to prove I mean what I say, because Sebastian deserves better than hesitation.
He deserves someone who chooses him. Every. Damn. Day.
I nod, pressing my lips together. “I’m sure.”
Andres studies me a moment longer, then lets out a long, slow breath. “Then fight for him.”
My pulse stutters.
Andres tilts his head toward the firehouse. “You want him back?” His lips quirk, but there’s no humor in it. “Then do something about it.”
I look at the firehouse again, my heart hammering. But I already know, I’m not ready. Not yet, not like this. I meet Andres’ eyes again, my throat tight but steady. “I will.”
He nods. “Good.” Then—softer, but with a warning edge—“Don’t break him again, Mari. He can’t take you breaking his heart again.”
“I won’t.” And this time, I mean it. Because if there’s one thing I know for certain— I’m never going to let go of Sebastian Garcia again.
Anna’s house is quiet when I walk in. A single light from the kitchen spills into the hallway, stretching soft golden hues against the walls, making everything feel smaller. I toe off my shoes by the door.
Her home has always felt lived in, messy in a way that feels real. There’s a blanket draped over the couch, a half-empty glass of water on the coffee table, an old sweatshirt thrown over the back of a chair. It doesn’t feel like a place haunted by absence, not like mine.
I make it halfway to the stairs before I hear her voice.
“You okay?”
I turn over my shoulder. Anna stands at the bottom step, her arms loosely crossed, her head tilted just slightly—she already knows the answer. So do I.
I shake my head. “No.”
She breathes out quietly, her expression shifting—not shocked, not full of pity, just seeing me. “Did you go see him?”
The question makes my breath catch. I drag a hand down my face, my palm rough against my skin. I wish I could say yes, I wish I had the courage. Instead, I let out a sharp, hollow breath.
“No.” I pause, voice raw. “But I saw Andres.”
Anna’s brows lift slightly, but she doesn’t push.
I take a slow step forward, then another. My hands tighten around the wooden banister, grounding me. My mother’s letter is still tucked into my pocket, still pressed against my chest like something sacred, something I can’t let go of.
I swallow hard. “Mami was right.” Somewhere, she’s probably smiling—pleased that I finally figured out what she knew all along. She’s always right. The words don’t just sit in the air, they settle, sink deep. My voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries weight.
I exhale a breath that feels like it carries every ounce of fear I’ve been living in. Every moment, I convinced myself I was better off alone. Every goddamn excuse I let dictate my life.
“I can’t keep running.”
It’s not a realization. It’s a decision.
Anna watches me, waiting, giving me space to find the rest of the words.
I tighten my grip on the banister. My chest constricts, not with fear, but with the truth clawing its way out of me.
“I thought leaving meant I was free of him,” I whisper.
“That if I moved on, if I built something new, then what he did to me would stop mattering.” I close my eyes, breathing through the ache rising in my throat.
“But I still hear his voice sometimes, Anna. In the back of my head, telling me I’m too much. Too difficult. Too broken.”
Anna’s face softens, something sharp and unspoken passing through her eyes. She steps forward, closing the space between us. “Mariana…”
I shake my head, pushing through. “And I let it hold me back. I let him have power over me, even in death. I let him convince me I was safer alone. But the truth is… I wasn’t protecting myself.” My breath catches. “I was letting him win.”
The words leave my lips like an unraveling thread, like something inside me is finally giving way to something new.
Anna reaches for my hand, squeezing it tight. “Mari, you know that’s not your fault, right?”
I nod, but I can’t speak past the lump in my throat.
Anna inhales sharply, shaking her head. “I hate that he still has space in your thoughts. I hate that you carried this alone for so long.” Her voice is quiet but fierce.
“But if you’re finally ready to let go of him, to stop letting him have even an ounce of control over you—then, Mari, that’s the strongest thing you could ever do. ”
I blink hard, my chest shaking with something that feels a lot like relief.
I lift my chin, forcing myself to say it out loud. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t love him.”
Anna tilts her head slightly, watching me and studying me. Then, quieter now, she says, “So what are you going to do?”
I press my lips together. This time, I don’t hesitate, I don’t question, I don’t let fear answer for me. I straighten, my pulse steady, my chest no longer tight with uncertainty.
“I’m going to do everything in my power to get my man back.”
Anna grins, slow and certain. “About damn time.”