Chapter 45
CHAPTER 45
MARIA
H e’s thin. Too thin. There’s barely any meat on him. And he looks a decade older than when I last saw him. His hands were shaky, his eyes marked with deep creases at the sides, dark circles beneath them.
He pulls back and looks at me for a moment, a smile crossing his lips.
“Maria,” he murmurs. And then, before I can say anything back, he slumps to the ground.
“Help!” I cry out, as I do my best to catch him. He’s so frail, I’m able to keep him upright by myself, but Malo sprints over to me and puts his arm around my father’s shoulders.
“It’s all right, I’ve got him,” he assures me. I feel like I am going to throw up. I plant a hand on his chest, making sure I can still feel the steady beat of his heart, and it’s there but it’s weak.
“We need to get him checked out, now,” I tell Malo. “Where’s the doctor?”
“Stitches?” Malo replies, as we lead my father around the clubhouse and to the medical shed. “Come on, I’ll take us to him.”
My father is barely awake as we bring him to the infirmary where Malo was just a day before. He seems so strong now, so capable, it’s hard to believe he went through all of that. But I can hardly think about anything else other than my father right now.
Stitches clears a bed for him, instructing a few of the others on binding and cleaning the wounds of some of the Kings who were injured in the battle with the cartel. Malo lays my father down carefully on the bed, and he looks so weak, so thin, it almost brings tears to my eyes.
“It’s going to be okay, Papi,” I tell him, grabbing his hand and planting a kiss against it. “It’s going to be okay.”
I’m saying it more to myself than to him. I need to believe he’s going to be all right. If I let that hope slip away, I don’t know what I’m going to do. If we’ve come so far, only to lose him now, I know I’m not going to be able to take it. And, in the state he’s in, I just don’t know what his chances are.
“Can you give me some space, Maria?” Stitches asks urgently, and I move away from the bed reluctantly, allowing him to get in close to do what needs to be done. Malo squeezes me in close, and I press my head into his shoulder as I say a million prayers to whoever’s listening. Please, just let him be okay. Don’t let all of this be for nothing. Please, please, please…
“Malo,” Stitches calls out, after what feels like a lifetime.
Malo snaps to attention. “What is it?”
“Get a drip over,” he orders. “We need to get him re-hydrated.”
“I can do it,” I mumble. “Malo, where is it?”
Malo and I get a drip stand and I set it up with some saline solution while Stitches inserts a needle into my father’s arm. He hardly reacts, not even registering it. He hates needles usually. He must really be out of it to not be protesting right now.
Stitches carefully arranges the drip, and then continues to check him over, testing his eyesight, his reactions, his body, which is riddled with bruises and other marks. God, what did they do to him all that time? Wasn’t getting him to work for them enough? No, they had to make him suffer, too. The thought sends a sharp shock of anger through me, and I have to look away again. I need to remind myself that it’s all over now, the cartel has been brought to its knees, the man who did this is being held by Beast and made to pay for his crimes.
But it’s not going to be enough, not if my father can’t recover from this. I wait with bated breath until Stitches is finished, at which point he turns to me again.
“How bad is it?” I ask him bluntly. There’s no point in pretending this isn’t awful. I just need him to give me the truth. I grit my teeth, preparing for whatever he’s about to hit me with.
“He’s malnourished, by the looks of it,” Stitches replies. “And he’s taken some pretty nasty hits. But other than that, I think he’s okay.”
I clasp a hand to my chest, grabbing on to the side of the bed to steady myself. Malo catches me around the waist, making sure I don’t keel over on the spot.
“You mean it?” I whisper. “Don’t bullshit me if there’s something really going on!”
“You have my word,” he replies. “He’s a lot tougher than he looks. With some rest and some decent food, he’ll be back on his feet in a few weeks.”
“Thank God,” I breathe, and I reach over to take my dad’s hand. He’s still so out of it, I’m not even sure if it registers that I’m the one touching him, but he manages a small smile.
“You hear that?” I ask him softly, not expecting a response. “You hear that, Papi? You’re going to be okay. I promise.”
I sink down into the seat at the bed beside him, not letting go of his hand for a moment. Malo kisses the top of my head, and then talks to Stitches for a moment. He backs off, leaving us alone again. I’m sure he’s got plenty of other patients who need his care right now, and I’m not going to force him to stick around. Right now, all I want is to be alone with my father, after all this time. I was so sure I would never get this again. When I saw the cartel hideout going up in flames, I thought he was inside, I thought that was it—and coming back to find him waiting here for me is nothing short of a miracle.
Malo smooths his hand over my hair gently.
“You want some time with him?” he asks softly, and I nod.
“Thank you,” I reply, glad for his kindness and his ability to read my mood right now. “I’ll be up to see you soon, okay?”
“No rush,” he assures me, and he leans down to kiss me softly on the mouth. Then, he grins, leaning his head against mine for a moment.
“Well,” he murmurs. “Maybe some rush.”
I smile back at him, a rush of elation overcoming my body. Suddenly, for the first time in longer than I can remember, everything is falling into place. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe we are finally safe.
Malo leaves, and I pull the small curtain that gives us some privacy from the rest of the infirmary. My father dozes off, and I curl up in the seat next to him, not wanting to leave him alone quite yet. I can’t stop staring at him, as though he might blink out of existence at any moment. I wish I could just stay in this moment forever, this feeling of peace that rolls up and through my whole body taking me over.
I manage to get a little sleep once the adrenaline wears off, but I keep waking up and checking my father is still there next to me. And he is, he really is. He looks peaceful, even though I can tell his body has been through it. I can’t even see the extent of his injuries, and I want to get him checked out by another doctor at some point to make sure he’s healing properly. But right now, none of that matters. As long as he’s with me, I can get him through anything.
And I intend to do just that.
Finally, his eyes flutter open, and they fall on me.
“Maria?” he murmurs, and I nod, a fresh wave of emotion hitting me.
“It’s me, Papi,” I tell him, kissing the back of his hand again. “You’re safe.”
“What happened?” he asks, trying to prop himself up. I guide him back down onto the pillow gently, not wanting him to exert himself too much.
“I’ll explain all of it to you some other time,” I assure him. I know he can’t take it all in right now, and he’d just worry about the people I had to align myself with, but he doesn’t need to let that get to him. I know that the Kings have my back. Without them, I never would have gotten him back. I owe them everything.
“You just rest now, okay?” I tell him, smoothing some of his overgrown hair back from his face.
“I will,” he replies. “You too, all right?”
I smile. There’s the father in him, the man who wants to look out for me no matter what. I plant a kiss against his temple, and watch as he slowly drifts off back to sleep once again, then rise to my feet and head outside.
Morning is starting to break, and I know I need some proper rest, but right now, all I can think about is Malo. I wander into the clubhouse, which is strangely still after all the chaos of the night before, and then up to his room.
When I get there, my eyes widen. The drawers are pulled from the dresser, and clothes and other items are scattered everywhere. The door to the bathroom is open, and I can hear Malo inside. My stomach drops. Oh, God. He’s not using again, is he?
I tiptoe in, not wanting to let him know I’m here before I’ve had a chance to see what’s going on. My heart thrums in my chest as I push open the door and step inside and find him rooting through the cabinet above the sink. I have no idea what’s going on.
“Malo?” I whisper. He turns to me. There’s a grin on his face. No signs that he might be high, from what I can tell.
“Maria,” he replies, and he moves toward me, slipping his hands to my waist. “It’s good to see you.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, gesturing around. “It’s a mess in here.”
“I’m clearing this place out,” he explains. “I’m checking to make sure there’s nothing else to use here.”
“To use?” I reply, confused.
He nods with a sigh. “Drugs,” he tells me. “After what happened the other day, I… I just know I can’t risk that shit again. I don’t want it in my life, not for another moment, I’ve already let it take too much from me. I’m done. Ya no más.”
He speaks with a fervency I have never heard from him before.
I can’t help but smile. “You mean it?”
“Si, I mean it,” he replies. “I don’t think there’s anything left in here, but I’m clearing it out. Down the toilet. I don’t want to see it ever again.”
It’s such a far cry from the man I met on that first night, the man who had been racking up a line at the back of the bar over a dumpster. He seems clear-headed now, clear in his intention, clear in his mission and his plan.
I take a step toward him. “I’m so proud of you.” And, the way he looks at me, I don’t think anyone has ever said that to him before. He pulls me close, his arms around my waist, his strength everything I need to ground me in this moment. Physically, I’m tired, but his touch sends a lightning bolt of energy through me.
“Thank you,” he replies, as he slowly sinks his mouth onto mine. I smile into the kiss. How could I not? We’re safe now, well and truly safe, and so is my father. We have nothing to fear.
And, right now, we have all the time in the world for each other.