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He swallows hard while pain fills his eyes, but I can’t focus on that. For once, I want to focus just on my emotions and not guilt. I’m allowed to feel left out despite his tragic past.
“You don’t. You know why? Because you guys had a huge fight so you crushed the car Dad gifted you. They rushed to the police station to handle all this, and once again, the Price family was there for me. Just one of many examples where everything was about your complicated relationship with our parents and their desperate attempt to love you.” I hold back my sob and wait a beat to compose myself. “I may sound selfish, and I’m not saying you weren’t allowed to behave the way you behaved. And I know you love me. I couldn’t wish for a better brother. But Florian…he was there for me when no one else was. He saw me and made me feel important when no one else did. You can twist my love for him and call it sick. You can judge us, and you can even think he groomed me into loving him, although it’s insane to suggest that. Don’t you dare, though, Santiago, say that my love for him has anything to do with you. It’s mine, and you have no right to it. If I have one thing that’s only mine in my life…that’s my love. You can have everything else, but not that.”
Exhaustion overtakes me, my whole body aching from saying all these things that were a long time overdue. I acted like the most understanding, perfect daughter and sister, but that’s no way to live.
For years, I felt guilty because my family truly loved me, so how could I have this much anger at them for making me feel left out. That’s what it’s about, though, right?
I never felt like I was fully part of the family as they all existed in their tragic bubble, and I could never share their grief because they wanted to shield me from it, but it just hurt me more.
Putting everyone’s emotional comfort above yours is not healthy.
How can you heal if you never tell anyone you’re sick?
“You weren’t born into our grief.” I freeze at my mom’s voice and turn around, swallowing hard when I see both of my parents standing at the threshold. Mom’s eyes are filled with tears, while Dad looks shocked. Above anything else…regret is the most prominent emotion on their faces. “We lost each other. After Santiago had been kidnapped, we became strangers locked in our grief. We couldn’t look at one another because it was unbearable, and we each dealt with our pain separately. So I thought for a brief while that maybe we needed a divorce.” I blink in stunned silence and glance at Santiago who has the same reaction. I never, and I do mean never, could associate the word divorce and our parents. “And then one night, we looked at each other and saw that our love was what held us together.” A smile shapes her mouth. “That’s the night that gave us you.” She comes to me and palms my head, wiping away the tears from my cheeks. “We couldn’t be more happier when we found out.”
“Whenever we look at Santiago, we are reminded about our beginnings. The passionate and obsessive, maddening love that consumed us. He represents the fire gliding through our veins for each other,” Dad speaks up, his voice tight yet firm.
“Seriously,” my brother mutters, and I feel him on this one. Little less details, please.
“And when we look at Jimena, we are reminded that our love was stronger than anything else. That no matter what happened or happens, it will stay, and we will always choose each other. Always find a way back to each other. If Santiago is our fire, you’re our strength, Jimena. You’re not an invisible child of this family. At least not to us. Everything you do is important to us, but if you feel like we failed you, then it means we failed you.”
“We knew about the pregnancy,” Mom says, and I gape at her. “I mean, you’re our kid, and you had similar cravings as me. Granted, we didn’t know who the father was. We knew about your crush and that’s why we sent you abroad to boarding school.” Oh. My. God. “We hoped it would cure it, and then you acted all weird, but we didn’t suspect anything. We should have, though.”
“We wanted you to tell us yourself.” Dad joins us and runs his hand over my hair. “Nosotras te queremos mucho, hija.”
“But we will talk more about this. Your feelings matter, and we’re sorry if you felt that somehow your brother was more loved or more important. Each one of you has a special place in our hearts.” Mom kisses me on the forehead.
We are a long way from me accepting my pleasing nature and always wanting to keep the peace going, but maybe that’s my road to healing. Santiago finally made peace with the past as well when he got married, so yeah. I might have seen everything through a different prism, not that my interpretations or feelings aren’t valid. They are, but it doesn’t mean it’s the truth.
The time has come to be freely myself among my family and unload all my baggage. Only then can they see the authentic me.
However, it doesn’t change the night’s disaster. “I love you too, but Florian…”
“No.” Dad’s voice hardens. “I will treat the Price men the way I see fit, and none of you can change my mind.” I wince at the harshness in his tone. “Get some rest.”
“You don’t have questions about Maxwell?”
“No. I won’t dictate who you can or can’t marry. It’s your decision. Just know that marriage usually means commitment. Be ready for yours.” Dad hugs me close, rocking me in his arms. “This family is not complete without you, princess. Never doubt it.” I sigh. “Now let’s all get some rest.” This is far from over, but knowing my parents, they need the night to think over everything they’ve heard before they come up with some kind of solution.
He squeezes me in his arms and steps back, grabbing Mom, who says, “Santiago?” I look over my shoulder to see him standing there.
“I’d like to have a moment alone with Jimena, please.”
I tense, but everyone complies, clearing the room so swiftly I barely have time to blink. “Santiago, what I said doesn’t mean—”
“Let’s go on a trip tomorrow.” I still at this, blinking rapidly. “To the mountains. Just the two of us.”
We’ve never been alone anywhere. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to react to that, so I just say, “Huh?”
“I want to tell you about my past. What happened, why it happened, and how it affected my behavior.”
Oh God.
His past was always locked away and never discussed, at least not with me. I hate that he feels that he has to share it in order for me to feel less hurt. “Santiago, you don’t have to, okay? I just have my own insecurities and hurts. It doesn’t mean I judge you or blame you in any way.”
He smiles, although his eyes are void of any humor. “In my desire to protect you from this, I drove a wedge between us. I love you very much, hermanita.”
My brother rarely says these words out loud. “I know. I love you too. And if you truly want to share, I’d love to listen.”
