Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Armando
The dimly lit bar feels like an extension of the night outside as we push through the heavy doors. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and the low hum of murmured conversations.
“Scotch, neat,” I order gruffly, my voice strained, betraying the turmoil I’ve been trying my damnedest to hide.
Marco and Leo exchange concerned glances.
“Make it three,” Marco adds, his voice steady and strong.
The bartender nods in acknowledgment, placing three glasses before us. The amber liquid catches what little light filters through the smoky haze, casting a warm glow over the worn wooden table.
I waste no time, grabbing my drink and downing it in one swift motion. The clink of glass against wood punctuates the moment, and it occurs to me I’m seeking solace at the bottom of a glass. I’ve never been that man before.
Maybe I’m that man now.
“Are you all right, man?” Marco asks. “You look like shit.”
“Fine,” I reply tersely, but the way my hands grip the edge of the table tells a different story.
“Talk to us, man,” Leo urges. “We're here for you.”
“Like I said, I'm fine,” I insist, but my voice wavers ever so slightly, revealing the cracks in my armor.
“How are you holding up after everything with Hannah?” Marco asks, his voice gentle and concerned. His gaze is steady and sincere, a softness in it that I've rarely seen.
I take a deep breath, knowing that I can't avoid this conversation any longer. “It's hard,” I admit, my voice cracking slightly. “But it's for the best. She asked me to leave, and I can't blame her. I’ve been trying to get her out of my head since. And epically failing at it.”
“Hey, don't be so hard on yourself,” Marco replies, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“Enough about me,” I say, trying to change the subject. “How's your ass, cugino ?” It's a weak attempt at humor, but I'm desperate to steer the conversation away from my own pain.
Marco chuckles, shaking his head. “You're really gonna ask me about that now? Fine, it hurts like hell at times, but I'll live.”
“You get asked about your ass on the daily now,” Leo chimes in, rolling his eyes. “That ass of yours is becoming famous.”
“Don’t be jealous of my famous ass,” Marco retorts with a smirk, before turning back to me. “But seriously, Mando, we're here for you, man. If you need to talk, just let us know.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, taking another swig of my drink. It burns going down, but I welcome the sensation–anything to help numb the ache inside me.
As the warmth of the alcohol spreads through my chest, I can't help but think of Hannah. Of her smile, her laughter, the way she made me feel alive again. But that life is gone now, and all that's left is the cold, hard reality of my past.
“I have to be frank with you, man,” Leo says, leaning forward with a serious expression.
“You're a fucking fighter. Always have been.
You don't just give up on shit so easily, man. Why the fuck would you just walk away? You obviously care about this chick. So why the fuck are you here with us instead of demanding her back?”
I stare into my glass, the amber liquid swirling around as I contemplate his words. The truth is, walking away was the hardest thing I've ever done. But what choice did I have?
“I didn't want to walk away,” I confess, the weight of my emotions threatening to overcome me. “But I can't risk hurting Hannah. Our life... it's dangerous. It'll catch up to us, and she'll be in the crosshairs. She deserves better than that.”
“Deserves better?” Leo scoffs, clearly not buying my argument. “She deserves a man who loves her, and from what I've seen, that's you. Maybe it's time to stop running from your past and face it head-on. For her sake.”
“Maybe you're right,” I admit, my fingers tightening around my glass. “Maybe I need to confront my past if I want any shot at a future with Hannah. But where the fuck do I even begin?”
“You need to see her,” Marco interjects. “Talk to her. Tell her everything you just told us–about your fears, your love, your willingness to fight for her. Then, together, you can figure out the best way to move forward.”
“Maybe,” I agree, my chest swelling with newfound determination and even hope. My cousins may be right. I can’t let Hannah go without a fight. She means too much to me.
“By walking away without a fight, you've already lost her. You had something special with Hannah, and you just let it go,” Marco says.
“Marco's right,” Leo adds, leaning forward in the booth. “You didn't even put up a fight for your relationship. We all have our demons, but that doesn't mean we can't fight for love.”
I look at both of them, their expressions a mixture of frustration and empathy. My chest feels tight, my thoughts consumed by the memory of Hannah's face when I walked out her door.
“Remember when we were kids?” I ask, trying to change the subject. “Alter boys, all three of us. Who would've thought we'd end up where we are now?”
“Definitely not me,” Marco chuckles, the mood lightening a bit. “But that's life, right? It's unpredictable.”
“Damn straight,” Leo agrees. “And you know what else is unpredictable? Love. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't fight for it.”
“You're lucky,” Marco says, his voice filled with sincerity. “I'd give anything to have more than just a fuck here and there. You and Hannah have something real. Don't throw it away like it's nothing.”
“Besides,” Leo chimes in, smirking as he swirls the ice in his drink, “you've always been one stubborn bastard. Why give up so easily?”
I can't help but smile at their words, knowing they both have a point. They've been with me through thick and thin, and they've never steered me wrong.
“All right, all right,” I concede, my resolve beginning to strengthen. “Maybe I did walk away too quickly. Maybe I should've fought harder.”
“Damn right.” Marco nods, his eyes meeting mine with determination. “Now it's up to you to fix it.”
“Good man.” Leo grins, raising his glass in a toast. “To fighting for love and finding our way back home.”
“ Salute ,” Marco and I echo, clinking our glasses together before drinking, the alcohol burning like liquid courage.
Despite the growing warmth in my chest, uncertainty still gnaws at me. I can't shake the feeling that I'm walking a tightrope between love and destruction. My cousins' words have given me hope, but they haven't fully convinced me.
“All right,” I finally say, forcing myself to sound more confident than I feel. “I'll stop moping around. But I need to think this through before I take any action.”
“Fair enough,” Marco acknowledges, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. “Just don't wait too long, okay? We both know women like Hannah can be snatched up in seconds.”
“Believe me, I know,” I mutter, my thoughts turning from pity to rage. The thought of her being with another man sends homicidal thoughts through me. “I’ll think on it.”
“Good,” Leo grins, his mood shifting as he claps his hands together. “Now, let's lighten up the atmosphere a bit, shall we?”
“Agreed,” Marco chuckles, raising his glass. “To not having bullets in our asses!”
The absurdity of the toast pulls a half-hearted chuckle from me, and I hold my own glass up to join theirs. “Amen to that.”
Our glasses clink together with a satisfying sound, and for a moment, I allow myself to forget about the weight on my shoulders. We drink to our shared camaraderie–three cousins bound by blood, loyalty, and the ghosts of our pasts.
As the night wears on, the conversation drifts away from Hannah and back to lighter subjects. I appreciate my cousins' attempts to distract me, but I can't help but feel the persistent tug of my thoughts pulling me back to her.
I let her go.
I fucked up.
But it wouldn’t be the first time I sabotaged my life.
The question now is what will I do next? Continue to dig my grave, or fucking walk toward the light that is Hannah?