Chapter 35 – remi
Thirty-Five
remi
The door closes behind me with a soft click, and I pause in the foyer, drawing a slow breath.
It’s my first time back here since Estela died.
I should’ve come sooner, checked in on Mamá more, sat with her, listened, and done something other than bury myself in work and every distraction I could find. Instead, I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to keep up with one disaster after another while avoiding everything I didn’t want to face.
It’s not an excuse. It’s just the truth.
Standing here now, surrounded by memories of a woman who loved us fiercely until her last breath, that truth doesn’t make me feel any less shitty.
“Remi!” Zara’s voice echoes through the hall, and when I see her sprinting toward me, guilt rushes back. My baby has been in town for days, and I’ve only seen her once.
Damn, Remi. You really are an asshole sometimes.
I crouch just in time for her to launch herself at me. She hits me with enough force to knock us both back, and my tailbone takes the brunt of the impact. I bite back a wince so I don’t worry her.
“Menace, you’re going to kill me one of these days. When did you get so strong?”
She giggles and squeezes me tighter. “You came! Auntie Amalia said she didn’t think you’d come, but I knew you would.” She pulls back just enough to look at me. “Did you get my message?”
“I did.” I tuck one of her curls behind her ear and smile.
“And you ignored it?” Her big brown eyes narrow and her nose scrunches.
Who would have thought that after stabbing and shooting grown men, I’d end up intimidated by a six-year-old?
“I loved all your little emojis, Zara. I miss you too, a ton. I’m sorry I didn’t text back. I’ll make it up to you with ice cream. How’s that sound?”
“And sprinkles? The chocolate ones.”
“We can’t forget the sprinkles,” I say with a laugh.
“She really knows how to lay on the guilt, doesn’t she?”
Matteo stands over us, grinning, with both hands outstretched. We each take one, and he hauls us to our feet.
“I wonder where she gets it,” I tease, throwing an arm around him. “And I have a bone to pick with you. Are we just delivering cops to my door now?”
“He saved my sister. I owed him one.”
“At my expense? I thought I was your favorite, Matteo. I’m disappointed.”
“You could’ve been,” he says with a shrug and a wink.
Zara stares at us, visibly confused. “You two are so weird.” Her face brightens. “Wait, are you talking about your friend Officer Thiago?”
Calling Thiago my friend shouldn’t sound so wrong, considering I told Mamá he was exactly that.
“Yeah. He came to visit me the other day.”
“Is he your boyfriend now? Did you kiss him again?”
Of course she remembers that.
“That’s enough from you.”
Matteo scoops her up and throws her over his shoulder as she squeals.
“Remi, your mom is in her study. She said she wants to talk to you.”
I sigh, already pretty sure what this is about, but I’ll play along.
After blowing Zara a kiss, I head down the hall as Matteo carries her around the corner.
Voices come from the other side of the study door, but the wood is too thick for me to make out what anyone is saying. Mamá clearly isn’t alone, and irritation creeps in before I even reach for the handle. I’m twenty-two. I shouldn’t have to sit through an interrogation about who I’m dating.
Not that I’m dating anyone, because Thiago and I are just friends who happen to fuck, which apparently makes everything perfectly uncomplicated.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
I skip the knock and push open the heavy door, only to nearly stop in my tracks.
I expected my dad to be in here with her, not to walk into a full-blown family meeting.
Aunt Leni and Uncle Silas sit by the window, with Uncle Derek and Aunt Eva beside them, while my parents stand behind the desk. The conversation dies the moment I enter, and every pair of eyes in the room turns toward me.
I know everyone well enough to recognize when something is wrong. These are not people who scare easily, overreact, or call the entire family because someone made a questionable life choice. Whatever brought all six of them into this room is serious.
My hand slips into my pocket, fingertips brushing over the ring.
“Wow. Didn’t know this was a party.”
Papá stands, crosses the room, and kisses my forehead before closing the door behind me.
“Sit, princesa.”
“I’m good right here.”
He pauses, then gives me a slight nod.
“What’s this about?” I ask, looking around.
“Mi amor...”
Mamá.
“We heard what happened.”
“Of course you did.”
“Remi.” She pushes herself to her feet and rounds the desk. “Why did I have to learn from a viral social media post that my daughter was arrested?”
“It was a great picture, wasn’t it?”
“Remi Isabel.” Her voice drops. “This isn’t a joke. Those were serious charges, and after everything that’s happened, you’re out there drawing even more attention to yourself.”
“I took off in my car, Mamá.” I hold her gaze. “I didn’t murder anyone.”
I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
Throwing my mother’s past in her face is a shitty thing to do, especially when I know that isn’t what this is about.
She doesn’t care about the embarrassment of having her daughter’s mugshot plastered across social media, and the charges aren’t what scared her enough to bring the entire family into this room.
She’s scared that something is going to happen to me.
I exhale slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
For a moment, Mamá says nothing.
“I know.” She reaches for my hands and holds them in hers.
“But you should’ve told me. You should’ve told all of us.”
“I would have if I had thought I needed to. There are some things I can handle on my own.”
“We know you’re capable, Remi,” Aunt Leni says from her place by the window. “I taught you myself.”
A few chuckles ripple through the room.
“But you know what’s at stake.” Aunt Leni continues. “You know what they want, and we can’t afford to overlook anything that could put you in their path.”
“I appreciate that, Aunt Leni. I really do.” I glance around the room. “But I refuse to live my life in fear.”
“Fear?” Uncle Derek arches an eyebrow.
“Cautious,” Aunt Eva corrects.
“Prepared,” Uncle Silas adds.
I groan. “There it is. The family intervention.”
“Remi girl.”
I turn toward Papá, hoping he’ll give me something, but one look at his face tells me I’m on my own this time.
“Just the other night, someone shot at you,” he says. “Before that, someone took a shot at both of us. Now you’re being arrested, and the charges disappear before anyone can figure out how or why.”
“That last one worked to my advantage.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t part of the problem.”
That shuts me up.
Papá holds my gaze. “You keep looking at these things as if they’re separate, but I don’t think they are. There are pieces moving here that we can’t see yet, and I have a sick feeling you’re somewhere in the middle of it.”
I cross my arms. “So what do you want me to do? Lock myself away?”
“Remi Isabel, ya basta*.” Mamá’s voice cuts through the room. When I look over, her arms are crossed and her dark eyes are fixed on me.
“No one is asking you to do that, but you keep acting like nothing can touch you. Someone has already tried. Twice.”
“I know that.”
“Then start acting like it.” Her composure finally cracks as she throws her hands up. “We’ve asked you to stay away from those races until we know what’s going on, and you refuse to even do that.”
“Because I’m not giving that up.”
“Of course you aren’t.”
Frustration burns behind my eyes, and I blink hard to keep the tears from coming. There’s nothing worse than being pissed off and then crying on top of it, especially in front of six people who already think I’m making bad decisions.
I need to get out of here, and the fact that I know exactly whose arms I want to disappear into only pisses me off even more.
“Remi...” Aunt Eva’s voice breaks through the tension, and I turn toward her.
“I made some calls and spoke with a few former colleagues. I also looked into what happened after your arrest.” She pauses. “There’s no paper trail showing who scrubbed your file.”
My stomach twists.
“Do you know anything about that?”
So much for Aunt Eva being the reasonable one.
“Did that man from the range have anything to do with it?” Mamá asks.
Of course she goes straight to Thiago.
“What makes you think that?”
“Because I know bullshit when I smell it, and there’s something about him I don’t trust.”
“That’s not fair. You met him for two minutes and already decided you didn’t like him before you even knew his name.”
“I don’t have to like him, and I don’t have to know him.” Her eyes narrow. “I know things.”
“I’m not a child anymore. Who I’m friends with is my choice, and you don’t get to make it for me. You should trust my judgment enough to know that.”
“We do,” Papá says, slipping into his usual role as the peacekeeper.
“Do you?” I bite back.
“What’s his information?”
I turn toward Uncle Derek, who’s watching me with the same infuriating calm he wears whenever he’s about to ask for something he already expects to get.
“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intend, but I don’t take it back.
“I’m not giving you his information. Leave him out of this.”
I head for the door, desperate to end this conversation before they press any further.
The worst part is that their questions make sense.
If the situation were reversed, I’d probably be demanding the same answers.
But I don’t want them digging through Thiago’s life, pulling apart every detail, and looking for reasons not to trust him.
Because I don’t want them to find one.
I want him to be the man I’ve come to know. The man who saved Zara, who showed up when I needed someone, and who somehow makes all the noise in my head fade away. It hasn’t been long enough for any of this to matter as much as it already does, but clearly no one bothered to tell my feelings that.
If Thiago isn’t who I think he is, it’s going to hurt.
No one tries to stop me as I open the door and leave.
The tears come before I make it halfway down the hall, which only pisses me off more. I swipe them away and keep walking until I nearly barrel into Gio.
“Whoa. Watch where you’re going.” His hands grip my shoulders, stopping me before I can take him down with me.
“Where are you off to like a fugitive?” he asks with a grin, clearly taking a jab at my recent run-in with the law. Normally, I’d have a dozen insults ready to go, but today, I don’t have it in me.
His smile crumples. “Rem?”
I look away, but he catches my chin and gently turns my face back toward him.
“What happened? Did they get on you about the arrest?”
“It’s nothing, Gio.” My voice cracks on the last word. “I’m fine.”
We both know that’s a pathetic lie.
“No, you’re not.”
Before I can argue, he pulls me against his chest, and whatever control I have left evaporates. I fist the back of his shirt and bury my face against him as quiet sobs shake my body.
“Hey,” he murmurs, cradling the back of my head in one hand. “I’ve got you.”
Those three words only make me cry even harder.
“I always fuck things up, don’t I?” I manage to say.
“That’s not true.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “It’s always been true.”
“Remi, I can agree with you if that’s what you want to hear, but I’d be lying.”
He pulls back to look at me.
“You’re the most annoying and aggravating sister I’ve ever had.”
I sniffle. “Wow. Thanks.”
“You filled my room with plastic scorpions when I was twelve.”
A reluctant smile pulls at my lips. “You screamed like Zara.”
“You gave me trauma.”
“Worth it.” I laugh again, and this one sounds a little more like me.
“But you’re so many other things that make you you,” he says, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “And every single person in that room loves you exactly the way you are. Mom. Dad. All of them.”
I swallow past the lingering lump in my throat.
“You know we’re all fucking crazy, right?” he adds with a chuckle.
That earns a real laugh this time. “Yeah.”
“Good, because it takes a special kind of crazy to put up with you. They’re just worried because they love you, Rem.”
“You give the best pep talks.”
“I know. Now stop crying so we can go back to pretending we hate each other.”
I lean in and give him one last squeeze before pulling away and dusting the little-brother cooties off my shirt.
“I didn’t say anything about...him.” Matteo’s voice has me turning around.
He’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, as if he materialized out of thin air.
“They don’t know,” he adds. “And Zara refuses to talk about that day, so for now, you don’t have to worry about anyone finding out from us. ”
Some of the tension finally leaves my body. Mamá knows who Thiago is, but she doesn’t know about Zara or what happened that day. I doubt she’ll bring him up to anyone until she has something concrete.
She’ll do her own digging first.
“You heard all that in there?”
He nods, glances down the hall, then looks back at me. “But I do agree with them about knowing exactly who he is. Digging a little deeper can’t hurt.”
“I already have.” I cross my arms. “On paper, everything checks out. So unless he’s secretly part of some government psyop program, he’s just a regular guy.”
“He’s a cop,” Matteo reminds me, which is rich coming from the man who practically rolled out the welcome mat for him a few days ago.
“Yeah, and? I’m just having fun with him. That’s all.”
Gio grimaces while Matteo lets out a slow breath.
“Fun like you’re teaching him how to swap a carburetor or showing him how to play chess, right?”
“Exactly, little bro.” I turn and start down the hall. “Lots and lots of chess.”
“Remi, what the fuck?” His disgust follows me down the hall, and I can’t help but laugh.
Gio is twenty and far from innocent, but just like I never want to know who he brings home, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. I’d much rather keep thinking of him as the twelve-year-old who nearly lost his shit over a room full of plastic scorpions.
* Enough.