He nods. “One thing at a time.”
I don’t deserve this man. I truly don’t. I know I don’t. But he’s standing here, unwavering, and more impressively, not letting me run away either. I owe it to him, to both of us to figure my shit out for real, to call a therapist and get whatever gremlins are living in my brain under control. My trauma is not his baggage to carry.
His jaw's set, eyes locked on mine like he's dug in for a fight. And this is one fight even I'm not going to win. I swallow hard, trying to force down the emotion threatening to choke me.
“Let’s go back in there and figure this whole thing out.”
A faint tremor runs through me, the weight of knowing that none of this magically got easier just because he’s staying. But with him at my side? For the first time in days, the world, my rib cage, my… everything doesn’t feel like it’s collapsing. It just feels… possible. The glimmer of hope is within arm’s reach instead of being juuuuust beyond my grasp.
He makes a move to grab my hand, but I grab his first. I pull him flush against my body and turn so his back rests against the doorframe. I sink my fingers into his hair, slant my lips over his, and kiss him so hard, so deep, pouring every ounce of my emotions into him, that we’re both left gasping for breath when we pull back.
His cheeks are pink. His eyes roam my face. His fingers walk through my beard, caressing my skin, skimming the sensitive scar on my top lip. He deserves to know the scary truth lurking in the shadows of my chest. “I love you,Duende.” Thewords taste like skydiving, jumping from a plane into a freefall—exhilarating, inevitable… free.
His uninjured hand tightens in my beard, pulling me closer like he needs the contact to stay upright. His breath stutters, but a smile splits his face, and I swear to God my heart stops, it’s so dazzling.
“I know.” He kisses me again. “Took you long enough to figure it out, though. You would have picked it up faster if you didn’t keep running away.”
“I might fuck up.”
He shrugs. “We both will. No one’s perfect. But you don’t run, I don’t care how scared you get. From now on? If you’re going to run anywhere, you run to me.”
Something clicks into place in my chest, like a piece that’s been out of alignment for so long that I didn’t realize things would be better,feelbetter, when it was shifted where it belongs.
Now we just have to survive telling the rest of the world we’re doing this together and figuring out how to face the force of Alonso de la Peña together. “Deal. Now stop using your arm, you need to rest.”
CHAPTER 47
Artemis
When I walk out of my bedroom, I expect to find a hive of activity. My shoulders are already braced, muscles locked like I’m stepping into a fight instead of my own apartment.
However, all I find is my mother, face lined with worry, and a compassion that makes emotion leap into my throat.
She stands up from the dining room table, comes toward us, arms outstretched, and pulls Xavier into a gentle side-hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Mijo.” She gives him a motherly kiss on his temple.
His cheeks darken. “I’m being well taken care of.” His eyes glance sideways to mine, a zap of electricity passing between us before he presses a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll give you two some time.”
The loss of his presence is immediate and disproportionate, like someone kicked a crutch out from under me and I fell on my ass.
She squeezes his good arm, and he walks away. When I open my mouth to speak, Mamá shakes her head. “Thisconversation is long overdue, Mijo.” She jerks her chin at the chair next to me. “Sit.”
I sit.
“Artemis.” She takes my hand as she begins, saying my name on what feels like a heavy sigh. “I have loved you since before you were born.”
Something nestled deep in my chest squeezes at her words. They hit harder than any accusation ever could. Love without conditions has always been my lodestone, my North star, the guiding point on my compass.
“I knew when you took your sweet time during delivery that you’d be a stubborn son.” She squeezes my hand. “Measured. Everything in your own time. And so fiercely protective of your siblings—even if they were older.” She gives me a watery smile. “And I hope you know that no matter what path you, or your siblings, choose in this life, I will always love you.”
Her free hand travels to her chest, and she touches her heart. “Some days I don’t think my heart is big enough to hold all the love I have for the four of you.” She swallows, her voice cracking. “And I’m so very proud of all of you.” Her eyes flit between mine, like she’s searching for confirmation that I hear her.
“But I can’t let you keep doing this to yourself, Mijo.”
When tears roll down her face leaving tracks on her cheeks, I about lose it.
“I stayed quiet, hoping that someone,somethingwould get through to you and you’d see sense. When you started seeing Xavier, something shifted, but it wasn’t enough, you still maintained this fruitless need to beat your father.”
Beat him. Outwork him. Outlast him. Prove I can survive anything without breaking. Maybe even all of the above. I didn’t realize until this very moment that winning stopped being the point somewhere along the way.
