Chapter 23
RAUL
…present day
It's been two days since I sent the letter, and every single hour has felt heavier than the one before it. I sit here, staring at the same dark spot on the concrete floor of this box I've been trapped in for what feels like forever.
With how many hands any piece of mail has to pass through in this system, Olivia probably won't see it until tomorrow. Or maybe today if I'm lucky enough to catch a break.
God, I need her to get it. I need her to read the words I could never say to her face. The ones that finally admit how badly I fucked up. The ones that tell her I still want her. That I never stopped, not even for a second, despite every wall I built between us.
My heart hasn't slowed down since I sent that letter. It's a constant, gnawing ache in my chest now. Panic claws at my ribs from the inside, sharp and relentless, like it's trying to tear its way out.
More than once, I've caught myself staring blankly at these gray concrete walls, lost in the loop of memories.
Every cold shoulder I gave her. Every time I turned away when she reached for me.
Every moment I pushed her back when all I wanted was to pull her against me and never let go. Every fucking regret.
Between waiting for her response and the plea deal deliberation hanging over me like some dark storm cloud ready to break, I've barely slept. Maybe three hours total across these last few days. My eyes burn with exhaustion, my body feels like lead, but my mind won't shut off. It races constantly.
I keep waiting for my attorney to call, clinging to the hope that they've managed to tie my case to Aunt Val's.
I'm a first-time offender on record, so they're arguing for a crime of passion driven by family loyalty, not premeditation.
If that sticks, the charges drop. The plea deal seals it.
And maybe, just maybe, I don't spend the rest of my life rotting in this cage.
Maybe.
That single word tastes like bitter ash on my tongue.
So much has to go right for me to ever get out of here and have a chance to fix what I broke with her.
But the margin for error is razor thin. One wrong ruling from a judge who doesn't give a damn.
One pissed-off prosecutor who wants blood.
And it's over. I'm gone for good. Olivia would be left out there alone, thinking I never cared enough to fight for her.
For us. Thinking the worst of me, just like I always feared.
The guilt comes for me the hardest at night.
It eats me alive in the dark hours when silence presses in from every side.
I see her face. Those hurt eyes staring back at me, the way she kept trying to reach past my walls even when I didn't deserve it.
The way I shut her out, cold and cruel, because I was terrified.
Terrified of losing her. Terrified of loving her enough to let her see the real me.
Terrified of dragging her down into the same mess that swallowed me whole.
Now I'm trapped behind these bars, and she's out there living her life, maybe moving on to someone who doesn't make her feel like an afterthought.
Maybe hating me for real. And fuck, the longing for her cuts deeper than any of this concrete ever could.
I miss her voice. Her touch. The way she looked at me like I might be worth saving.
But I don't regret what landed me here. I don't regret why I'm in here. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. I'd spend my whole life caged in this place if it meant my family could breathe free. That's the one thing I got right. The one choice I can still stand behind.
Still lost in thought, I'm pulled out of my trance when Carl stands up.
"You coming?"
"Huh?"
"They just did chow call."
"Oh shit. Uh… yeah, I guess."
I shake off the dark spiral and stand to line up with the rest of the block. Carl elbows me lightly, pulling my focus.
"You good, man?"
"Yeah, just a lot going on right now."
"You wanna talk about it?"
I can hear the real concern in his voice, but even if I could find the words, why burden him? He's got his own weight to carry. He doesn't need mine too.
"Nah, man. Thanks. I'm good."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." I grab my tray.
Today's meal is a mystery burrito. Honestly, they're one of my favorites in here. They might not taste amazing, but at least they taste like something. Half the fun is the surprise of not really knowing what's inside until you bite down.
I scoop a ladle of corn and head to the table Carl and I have claimed these last few weeks.
"Want a distraction?" he asks, crunching corn chips from lunch and scooping corn into his burrito.
He offers me some chips. I let him sprinkle a few inside mine for crunch and flavor. "Sure, man. Hit me."
"I think I'm gonna propose to my girl when I get out!"
"Yeah? Good for you, man."
Carl's immaturity and nonstop energy always make him feel like a little brother. I think he senses it too. That's why he doesn't filter himself around me. Turns almost kid-like, beaming with excitement.
"Yeah." He takes a massive bite. "Shit, mostly beans today."
"That's okay." I follow with my own bite.
My stomach revolts instantly.
One thing's for sure: I've dropped weight in here. Came in at 220 pounds, and now my clothes hang loose. Probably lost 20 pounds these last few weeks alone, between the shitty food and nothing to do but work out.
"Alvarez," a guard's voice cuts through the chow hall like a blade, low but unmistakable behind me.
My stomach drops. Fork freezes halfway to my mouth. The burrito turns to lead in my gut. The guard is Rick, and he's brutal and harsh.
I stand slow, turning to face him. "Yes, sir."
"Finish up. You have a visitor."
The words hang there. Heavy. Final.
Visitor.
Now?
Heart kicks hard against my ribs. Could be my attorney with plea deal news. Could be Aunt Val's people. Could be the prosecutors deciding to bury me deeper. Maybe it's Diego?
Carl's watching me, smile gone, reading the shift in my face. "You good?"
"Yeah." Lie. My voice comes out steady, but my palms are sweating. "Gotta go."
I shove the rest of the burrito down fast. Beans or not, doesn't matter now. My tray clatters louder than it should when I dump it. The entire block's eyes track me as I follow the guard out, murmurs rippling behind.
Every step echoes too loud down the corridor.
The metal door clangs shut. Fluorescent buzz drills into my skull.
What if it's bad news? What if the consolidation fell through?
What if they bumped it to premeditated? Life without parole.
No chance to fix anything with her. No chance to see my family again.
My fingers flex at my sides. Breathe. One foot. Then the next.
The visitation room door swings open.
Empty chairs. Waiting.