Chapter Fourteen
Gideon
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and the entire world seems lost to holiday cheer.
Not me. No, I sit in my truck outside the Reyes house, heart hammering like it's prom night all over again.
The lights in the living room glow warm and golden, shadows moving inside.
Her family together, safe, while I stand out here like a ghost at the window.
Snow falls in thick, lazy flakes that catch in my headlights and melt against my windshield, but I barely notice the cold seeping through the cab.
All I can think about is this morning. Waking up to empty sheets still warm with her scent. The way my chest caved in when I realized she was gone.
I deserve it, for what I did to her. Still, I’m not ready to give up this easily. Not this time.
It’s still a crazy-ass plan, my mind whispers to me in that tone I know too well, one that sounds reasonable, yet with underlying fear.
My boots crunch through the snow as I walk up the familiar path to the front door, each step feeling like I'm walking toward either salvation or complete destruction.
The Christmas lights strung along the eaves cast everything in a soft, festive glow that would be cheerful under any other circumstances.
I knock, three sharp raps that echo in the cold air.
Footsteps approach from inside, and then the door swings open to reveal Ernesto Reyes. His dark eyes narrow when he sees me standing on his doorstep, snow dusting my shoulders and desperation written across my face.
"Gideon." His voice is flat, unwelcoming. Behind him, I can hear the warm murmur of family conversation, the twins' laughter, the clink of dishes being cleared from dinner.
"Mr. Reyes," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I need to see Lucia."
His jaw tightens, and he steps outside, pulling the door closed behind him. The move is deliberate, protective, putting his body between me and his daughter like a shield.
"She doesn't want to see you," he says bluntly. "She came home this morning in tears, Gideon. I had her car towed here, for goodness’ sake. Whatever happened between you two, whatever you did to her—"
"I didn't do anything," I interrupt, heat flooding my skin despite the December air. "I woke up and she was gone. I didn't hurt her."
Ernesto's expression doesn't soften. If anything, it hardens further. "Maybe the problem isn't what you did. Maybe it's what you didn't do."
The words hit because they're probably true. I should have told her how I felt before she had the chance to run. Should have explained everything, laid my heart bare instead of assuming she'd somehow understand through osmosis.
"Then let me fix it," I say, my voice rough with desperation. "Let me talk to her. Please."
"No." The word is final, absolute. "My daughter will see you if and when she wants to. In the meantime, you’ll just have to stay away."
"You're right," I say quietly, and Ernesto blinks in surprise. "I don't deserve her. I never have. But I love her, Mr. Reyes. I've loved her since we were kids, and I'll love her until the day I die. That has to count for something."
For a moment, his stern expression wavers. Then he shakes his head and turns toward the door.
"Love isn't enough if you can't fight for it," he says over his shoulder. "Good night, Gideon."
The door closes with a soft click that sounds like a death knell. I stand there for a long moment, snow falling around me, feeling like the biggest failure in the history of mankind.
He’s right. Lucia has every right to stay away from me. She owes me nothing, not even an explanation. But then I remember the way she looked at me last night. The way she whispered my name like a prayer. The way she fit perfectly in my arms, like she was made to be there.
I walk down the porch and back to my car, then turn to take a last look at her house.
My eyes stray to the window at the back left corner of the house on the second floor, where a warm light glows behind familiar curtains.
The window is barely visible next to an ancient oak tree we used to climb as children.
I know that window. I’ve climbed up and down that tree hundreds of times.
That’s Lucia's bedroom window. The same window I used to throw pebbles at when we were teenagers, the same tree I used to climb to sneak over and see her.
Before I can think about how utterly insane this plan is, I'm trudging around to the back of the house, scooping up a handful of snow as I go. The old oak tree still stands sentinel beside her window, its bare branches reaching toward the glass like gnarled fingers.
I pack the snow into a loose ball and lob it gently at the window. It hits with a soft thud, leaving a white splatter against the glass.
Nothing.
I try again, this time with better aim. The snowball hits dead center, and after a moment, the curtains twitch.
Then the window slides open, and Lucia appears, her dark hair falling around her shoulders like a silk curtain. Even from here, I can see that her eyes are red-rimmed from crying, and the sight makes my chest ache.
"Go home, Gideon," she calls down, her voice sharp with hurt and anger. "I don't want you here."
"I'm not leaving," I call back, my breath forming clouds in the cold air. "Not this time."
She shakes her head, starting to close the window, and desperation makes me do something spectacularly stupid.
I grab hold of the nearest branch and start to climb, just like I used to when we were sixteen and the world was full of possibilities.
I’m vaguely aware of her sounds of concerned protest as I shift my weight on the large branch that hovers right outside her window.
That branch holds for exactly three seconds before it snaps with a crack like a gunshot.
I go down hard, landing in a snowbank with a thud that knocks the wind out of my lungs. Snow explodes around me, and for a moment I just lie there, stunned and winded, staring up at the dark winter sky.
"Gideon!" Lucia's cry cuts through the night air, and I hear her window slam shut.
Within seconds, the front door bursts open. Ernesto and Mateo storm out, their faces thunderous, while Martha and Mara follow behind, shepherding the wide-eyed twins. Lucia runs straight to where I'm sprawled in the snow, her expression torn between fury and worry.
"Are you insane?" she demands, dropping to her knees beside me. Her hands flutter over my chest, checking for injuries. "What were you thinking?"
I struggle to sit up, snow sliding off my shoulders. "I was thinking that I'm tired of being a coward," I say, looking directly at her. "I'm tired of letting fear make my decisions for me."
"Gideon."
"No," I interrupt, getting to my feet with her help. "Let me say this. All of it. In front of everyone. And if you still want me to leave, then I will leave and I’ll never come back."
I turn to face the assembled crowd. Lucia’s parents, her brother and sister-in-law, the twins peeking out from behind Mara's legs. Taking a deep breath, I let the words I've been holding back for ten years finally spill out.
I tune them all out. All that matters is Lucia, so I focus only on her.
"I knew you were my mate since we were seven years old," I begin, my voice carrying clearly in the cold air.
"When we were kids, I thought I had all the time in the world to figure out how to tell you.
Then my father died, and suddenly I was responsible for everything.
The business, my mother, the legacy he left behind. "
My skin begins to glow faintly with the heat of my emotions, melting the snow around my feet.
"The night of prom, when we made love for the first time, every cell in my body knew you were mine. But I also knew you had dreams of leaving, of seeing the world beyond Saltford Bay. And I knew I could never ask you to give that up for me."
Lucia's eyes fill with tears, but she doesn't speak. Neither does anyone else. The only sounds are the whisper of falling snow and the distant hum of traffic on the main road.
"So I made the choice for both of us," I continue, my voice cracking with the weight of a decade's worth of buried truth. "I convinced myself I was being noble, protecting you from a life you didn't want. But the truth is, I was protecting myself from the possibility that I might not be enough."
I step closer to Lucia, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I spent ten years telling myself I did the right thing. Ten years alone, because golems don't get second chances at love. Ten years watching you become everything I knew you could be, and hating myself for the choice I made."
"Gideon," she whispers, but I shake my head.
"I'm not done," I say softly. "I love you, Lucia.
I've loved you every day since that first time when we were both children, and I'll love you every day for the rest of my life whether you want me or not.
I know I don't deserve another chance. I know I hurt you in the worst possible way. But I'm done being a coward."
Tears stream down her cheeks as she stares at me, her expression cycling through shock, hurt, hope, and something else that I’m way too afraid to name. The silence stretches between us like a taut wire, and I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
I drop to one knee in the snow, ignoring the gasps from the assembled crowd.
"I'm not asking you to give up your dreams for me.
I'm asking you to let me be part of them.
I'll move to New York if that's what it takes.
I'll start over, build something new, whatever you need.
Because losing you again isn't an option. "
She raises her hand, cutting me off mid-breath.
"Stop," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
The world tilts sideways. This is it. This is where she tells me it's too late, that I've hurt her too badly, that some things can't be forgiven. I brace myself for the words that will shatter what's left of my heart.
But then she says something that stops my world completely.