I still recall with crystal clear memory looking in Roberto’s eyes when he was placed in the back of the police cruiser the day of Jorgie’s accident. Even with his eyes jammed with remorse and a gold cross hanging around my neck, I cursed him to death. I wanted him to suffer the way Jorgie did when she held my hand and cried as she couldn’t feel Malcolm moving in her stomach. I prayed for him to experience the pain that was shredding through my heart, crippling me with devastation. So I understand what Hugo was going through, because at the time, I also wantedRobertodead.
My opinion on the matter only changed when Joel was born. When I was looking down at his little face and big, worldly eyes, I realized it wouldn’t matter what he did, no matter how heinous, he would always be my son, and I'd always defend him. It was in that instant, I realized Roberto wasn’t just the man who killed Jorgie, he was someone’s son. His mother would have grieved his death just as deeply as Mrs. Marshall grieved Jorgie’s. No mother should go through the pain of losing a child. Not even one who gave birth to amonster.
Hugo’s eyes dance between mine as he lifts his hand and removes my tears from my cheeks. Once all my tears are cleared, his eyes stare into mine. “If I’d known my hasty decision was going to have the consequences it did, I would have evaluated it with more diligence. I would have taken the time to properly assess the repercussions of mydecision.”
Guilt darkens his eyes. “But I was hurting too much. Losing Jorgie and Malcolm, then you… the pain was too great. It killed any chances of my grief-riddled brain forming a rational decision. Losing Jorgie gutted me. Losing you utterly destroyed me.” His words comes out gravellyanddeep.
From the despondency in Hugo’s eyes, I have no doubt if he could take back every wrong he did, he would.All of it.Not just hurting me and missing out on the first four years of Joel’s life.Everything.Even what happened toRoberto.
Hugo’s sorrowful eyes peer into mine. “I wanted to punish Roberto, to issue the penalty the courts failed to administer.” He exhales an uneven breath of air as his eyes flick between mine. “But when I peered into Roberto’s eyes, all I could see were your eyes reflecting backatme.”
I gulp in a jagged breath as my widened eyes dart between Hugo’s, searching for the answer to the question my mouth is failingtoask.
“I got close. I held the gun to Roberto’s head, and I pulled back the trigger, but no matter how strong the desire was to make him pay, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pull the trigger,” Hugo confesses, answering my silentquestion.
I release the breath I'm holding in as a mass of liquid swamps my eyes. “You didn’t kill him?” My words come out in a shaky tremor as a torrent of emotions floodintome.
Tears roll down my cheeks when Hugo shakeshishead.
“I couldn’t. I didn’t want you toeverlook at me the way I was looking at him. I didn’t want you to think of me as amonster.”
“I would haveneverlooked at you like that,” I declare, cupping his jaw and staring into his eyes, wanting to ensure he can see the honesty in mine. “You not being able to pull the trigger proves how strongyouare.”
My gut twists when Hugo shakes his head. “I’m not strong. I might have failed to pull the trigger, but I didn’t stop the man I knew could,” heinterrupts.
My breath snags halfway to my lungs when I see the dishonor cloudinghiseyes.
“I was a coward who left the integrity of defending my baby sister to a man who was a stranger only months earlier,” Hugo mutters under his breath. “I didn’t even ask Isaac what he was going to do to Roberto, because, at the time, I didn’t care. Isaac said he would take care of him, and I trusted he would. That not only makes me a coward, it makes me just as much of a monster asRoberto.”
I viciously shake my head, sending tears sprawling into the air. “No. That does not make you a coward or a monster. That makes you a man with morals. A man who was raised right.Nota coward. Even with your soul shattered, you still knew the difference between right and wrong. That makes you a man, Hugo. That makes youbrave.”
Hugo stares at me in shocked silence, unable to relate to what I'm saying. I return his robust stare minus the calamity his eyes are sparked with. I stare at him with nothing but love and admiration, wanting to ensure he is aware his confession hasn’t altered my opinion of him. I love him. I always have, and I always will. Nothing he could ever say or do would change that fact. Not one singlething.
As a stretch of silence crosses between us, the cloud dulling the usual impish glint in his eyes dissolves. But even with his mood shifting towards his regular persona, it isn’t enough to ease the pain festering in my heart from the melancholy expression on his face. Deciding to test Hugo’s theory of using actions instead of words, I press my mouth against his stern, snapped lips. The muscles in his thighs tense when my tongue brushes along the ridges of his lips, requesting access to his mouth. His unease only lasts for a fleeting second before he parts his lips and acceptsmykiss.
I delve my tongue into his warm, inviting mouth in a slow, sweeping wave. His tongue follows the pattern of mine, tasting and devouring every inch of my mouth in lengthy, gentle strokes. Our kiss expresses all the emotions surging through our bodies: our sorrow and anguish, and my understanding of why he initially reacted the way he did. It is a controlled and emotion-packed kiss that relinquishes my heart from the stranglehold that’s been asphyxiating it the past five years. Our kiss mends wounds I never thought could be healed. I should have known only Hugo’s touch would have the chance of doing that. Only he has the ability to return the parts of my soul I lost when Jorgiepassedaway.
Inhaling deeply, I breathe in his scent. My senses savor being engulfed by his familiar woodsy smell. He smells heavenly.He smells like home.When I pull back from his delicious lips, his eyes slowly flutter open. Our kiss has removed the fog obscuring the eyes I fell in love with well over fifteen years ago. His eyes are the clearest they’ve been since he returned to Rochdale for the first time four weeks ago. He runs the back of his index finger over my cheek in a slow, tantalizing maneuver, prickling my nape with goosebumps. I lean into his hand, wanting every inch of my skin to be touching him insomeway.
The muscles in his stomach contract when I run my hand along the bumps of his abs, over the Princess Peach and Luigi tattoo inked above his right hipbone, and by the replica of the tree I engraved our names into at Lake George over fifteen years ago covering the majority of his left ribcage. Every tattoo that adorns Hugo’s god-crafted body is a reference to our life together. Whether it is the pair of black, thick-rimmed glasses floating on top of a pool of water, theFriendssitcom logo on his right shoulder blade, or the three letters of my name integrated in multiple locations on his body, every tattoo has some significance to our timetogether.
Snubbing the tears forming in my eyes, I lean forward and place a kiss on the outer edge of the bullet wound scar in his chest. My lips land just to the side of Joel’s freshly inked name above Hugo’s heart. My breath hitches when I pull back and catch the cajoling look in Hugo’s eyes. Gone is the cloud of remorse and despair, replaced with a new voracious look only my kissesincite.
My pulse quickens when Hugo rocks his hips, ensuring I'm aware of what my simple peck did to his body. I’m not going to lie, I love that I can spark such a carnal desire from him from the meekest brush of my lips against his bare skin. But even with the desire to throw caution to the wind and undertake crazy wild sex on the floor of our bedroom, I won’t. Not because I don’t want to, but because I refuse to relinquish my eyes from Hugo’s demanding gaze. He is staring at me with zero restrictions or complications. Nothing but love and awe is beaming from his devoted eyes. This affects me more intensely than any earth-shattering orgasm evercould.
The unbreakable connection between us only bends slightly when the noise of little feet padding into the room sound over the furious beat of my heart. Warmth blooms across my chest when Joel sleepily rubs his eyes before plopping down onto the ground next to us and leaning his crazy curl-covered head onto Hugo’sforearm.
A giggle bubbles up my chest when Joel’s tired eyes peer up to Hugo as he asks, “Do I still get a pancake boganus since it’sMonday?”
Hugo cranks his neck back and laughs. “Yeah, buddy, if you can convince Mommy to make pancakes, you’ll still get abonus.”
Joel’s little eyes widen before they dart to me. His lips pucker as he gives me his best puppy dog eyes. Like a dog rolling over and begging for my tummy to be scratched, I nod my head. A squeal emits from Joel’s lips before he jumps up from the ground and charges tothedoor.
“I’m going to wash my hands!” he squeals with excitement in hisvoice.
He charges out of our room so quickly, nothing but a blur flashes beforemyeyes.
Laughing, I drift my eyes back to Hugo. “You know you’re going to end up broke if you keepbribinghim.”
