Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
annalise
My head is pounding. Veronica doubled my workload today and I barely had time to take a break.
As soon as five o’clock hit, I rushed out of there before she could find something else for me to do.
Thank God it’s Friday and I don’t have to be back in that hellhole for another two days—though, honestly, two days is never enough.
I didn't see Maddox at Dauntless this week. Maybe he’s been busy traveling for games. I thought I would be relieved that he’s not around, but I find myself craving his presence.
Why does he have to be so damn caring? It would be easier for me to keep hating him if he acted like an asshole. I’ve tried to block it from my mind, but I can’t stop thinking about how he went out of his way to take care of me the night I was drunk and the morning after.
I would be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t still attracted to him. Maddox Kamado is irresistibly sexy, and my body betrays me when I’m around him.
The moment we shared on his couch has replayed in my mind more times than I care to admit. When I’m in my bed late at night, my hand wanders between my legs as I imagine Maddox thrusting inside of me.
I bet he would get a kick out of it if he knew my self-indulgence sessions were because of him.
Maybe if I started dating, I could get him off of my mind—but I refuse to go on a dating app ever again.
Sure, it works for some, but all the dates I’ve been on have been a disaster.
I want to meet someone organically, but even that is hard.
All the men I meet at bars are creeps who only want one thing.
Now, relieved to finally be done with work for the week, I push my shopping cart toward the vegetable section to pick out some tomatoes and potatoes. Mom called me earlier and asked if I could stop by the grocery store to pick up a few ingredients for her.
She’s cooking ropa vieja for dinner—my favorite Cuban staple—but needed some ingredients for side dishes. I’ve attempted to make it myself a few times, but it never comes out as tender or flavorful as hers.
After I get what I need for Mom, I head toward the bakery. I’m craving some brownies. They usually run out by this time of day, but I remain hopeful.
“Damn it.” I release a sigh when I see that they’re gone.
My eyes scan the grocery store, hunting for another dessert to satisfy my sweet tooth. That’s when I spot Lucas Hilton, an old friend from high school, reaching for a container of freshly baked croissants.
“Lucas, hey!” I say, waving at him.
He glances up, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Hey, Annalise!” Lucas sets the croissants in his cart and struts toward me. “Wow, it’s been forever,” he says as he pulls me in for a hug.
When we finally step back, his eyes sweep over me. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to become more beautiful than you already were.”
I wave my hand in the air, smiling. “Oh, stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
“So, how have you been?”
“I’ve been good! I just moved back to San Francisco a little over a month ago. How are things with you?”
“I’m doing well. I actually moved back recently, too. I’ve been living in Colorado for the last four years. I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m horrible at keeping in touch with people, too. Mazi is the only person from high school I still hang out with.”
I was considered popular in high school.
I was part of the cheer team, won prom queen, and dated the star athlete and most desirable guy at Seymour High.
All the girls that used to tease me in elementary and middle school suddenly wanted to become my friend when I started dating Maddox.
Mazi was the only genuine friend I had, so I didn’t bother to keep in touch with anyone else from our class.
“Yeah. I still keep up with Brian, but I only see him a few times a year.”
“It’s so hard to find time as we get older.”
Lucas glances at his phone. “Hey, I need to get going soon, but we should catch up over dinner. Next Saturday, if you’re free?”
I hesitate, trying to decide if I should go.
Lucas is a nice guy—and he’s handsome, standing about six feet tall with sandy blonde hair and soft hazel eyes—but I never saw him as anything other than a friend. He’s not my type.
Yeah, because your type is a dark-haired tattooed man with dimples who you haven’t been able to get out of your head.
The fact that Maddox Kamado is occupying my mind at all is more of a reason why I should go out with Lucas.
“Dinner sounds great,” I reply with a smile.
“Hola, Mami.” I place the grocery bags on the counter and walk over to Mom, planting a kiss on her cheek.
Abuelo is sleeping soundly on the couch. He had a chemotherapy session today—they always leave him feeling drained.
“Anything new going on with you lately, mi rosa?” Mom asks while she peels the potatoes.
Grabbing another cutting board from the drawer, I begin chopping the tomatoes. “Not much, besides Veronica driving me crazy.”
Mom and I are only eighteen years apart. She’s practically my best friend, and I share everything that’s going on in my life with her.
But I haven’t told her about seeing Maddox again. She doesn’t even know the real reason we broke up. I told her that being in a long-distance relationship was too much for us to handle, so we decided it was best to part ways.
When I was a senior in high school, I stumbled upon my father cheating on my mom with his secretary—a woman nearly half his age. Seeing that broke something inside of me and I haven’t been able to get over my trust issues since.
Talk about emotional damage.
He was too much of a coward to tell my mom, so I had to do it. She was beyond devastated when I broke the news to her and lost a part of herself that she still hasn’t fully regained. Despite the rocky nature of her relationship with my father, she still loved him deeply.
I knew she would be heartbroken if she found out that I had experienced the same fate, so I decided to keep it from her. Mazi is the only person who knows what happened.
My little brother Ollie walks into the kitchen and grabs a bag of chips from the pantry.
Mom waves a knife at him. “Ah, ah! Put those back right now, Oliver. You’re not gonna eat junk before dinner.”
“But I’m hungry now,” he pouts, his shoulders sagging. “I just wanna eat a little.”
“You can wait fifteen more minutes. Go and clear the table please.”
He groans, placing the chips back on the shelf.
“How was school this week, Ollie?” I ask. “Did you make any new friends?”
“Not really. I don’t have anything in common with anyone in my class,” he says quietly. “I only get to see Jake during first period and lunch, so the rest of the day drags.”
“Are you going to try out for the basketball team this year?”
He shakes his head. “I doubt I’d to make it. I would rather not embarrass myself during tryouts.”
Ollie is such a sweet kid but he’s very timid, which makes it hard for him to make new friends.
The popular kids in school often pick on him, and now that he’s in high school, I’m worried about him more than ever. Teenagers can be brutal, and they don’t understand how damaging their words can be.
I really hope he’s able to break out of his shell and gain some confidence.
“I’m sure you’d make the team,” I say gently, hoping to reassure him. “You’ve been practicing every day. It’s something you’re passionate about, and it would be a great way for you to make new friends.”
“Do it for me. I don’t have much time left, and I want to see you play on the court before I die.” Abuelo rubs his eyes, giving me a sleepy smile. “Hola, mi rosa.”
I stroll over to the couch and he greets me with a big, warm hug. There’s something so special about his hugs. They wrap around me like a cozy blanket and always make me feel safe and loved.
“Enough with this negative energy, Abuelo—you’re going to live for another twenty years. And Ollie, you’re going to make the team.”
“It’s funny that you’re being so positive, but when it comes to something related to your life, you’re the complete opposite.” Ollie rolls his eyes.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Oh, you know exactly what I mean. You’re always saying, ‘I don't know if I can do it,’” he says in a mocking tone, earning chuckles from Mom and Abuelo.
“Your brother is right,” Mom says with a nod. “You do tend to doubt yourself a lot.”
For as long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with thinking I’m not good enough.
Not deserving enough. That nothing I do could ever be praised or appreciated.
The voices in my head spew negativity on a daily basis, making sure I keep myself in check and don’t get too proud of anything I accomplish.
No matter how hard I try to drown them out, the voices are always too loud.
I choose to be a glass-half-empty kind of person, because it’s easier than getting my hopes up only to be met with disappointment.
Mom finishes cooking, and Ollie and I help her set the table.
“Let us say a prayer before we dig in,” Abuelo says, holding his hands out.
We all join hands and bow our heads as Abuelo leads us in prayer.
“Dear Lord, we pray and honor you. Thank you for bringing us together for this meal. May this food refresh and nourish our bodies, minds, and spirits. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”
“Amen,” we say in unison.
Abuelo had never been a religious person. When Abuela was still alive—she passed away when I was in elementary school—she used to force him to go to church with her and attend church events.
But after he was diagnosed with cancer, he turned his life over to God. He felt like he hadn’t been living life correctly because he lacked God’s presence. Building a relationship with God helped him cope with his cancer diagnosis and has allowed him to remain positive.
“Mmm. This is delicious, Valeria. It tastes just like your mother’s,” Abuelo says.
I swallow a spoonful and tilt my head back in satisfaction. It’s incredibly savory, and the tender meat melts on my tongue.
“Is La Diabla still giving you a hard time?” Abuelo asks.
I can’t help but chuckle at the nickname we gave Veronica. “Oh, you know it. I swear she gets worse every day. Today she misplaced her car keys and blamed me for it.”
“Maybe you can get her some of those special gummies you like to eat to help calm her down,” Ollie says.
I cast a glare in his direction and kick him hard under the table.
“Ow!” he yelps.
“I really wish you hadn’t left New York because of me,” Abuelo says, staring down at his hands. “You wouldn’t have to deal with her, and you would’ve been happy.”
After I graduated, I returned home to visit before I started my internship.
Abuelo had a worsening cough that wouldn’t go away, and he had lost a lot of weight.
Mom said she’d been begging him to see a doctor, but he was too stubborn to go.
It took a lot of convincing, but I finally got him to agree.
He got a scan done that showed a mass in his lung. The biopsy confirmed that he had stage-three small cell carcinoma. The doctor informed us that the cancer was very aggressive and urged us to start treatment right away to prevent it from metastasizing.
Abuelo used to smoke Cuban cigars daily, but he hadn’t touched one in over fifteen years. I was angry at the fact that someone so kind and pure had to be punished.
We got into a huge argument when I told him I was moving back home permanently. He knew how hard I had worked to get that internship and hated to see me give it all up.
I give his hand a squeeze, smiling. “I am happy, Abuelo. My job may not be what I wanted, but I have so many things to be grateful for. I was so lonely in New York. Being able to spend more time with my family is what makes me happy.”
He squeezes my hand back, his eyes crinkling into a smile. “Te quiero, mi rosa.”
“Te quiero, Abuelo.”