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“When he died, Andrea and I . . . well, we couldn’t cope. She blamed me, and part of me wants to blame myself too . . .”
“What do you mean?” My brows drew together with concern.
“He wanted to climb a tree. It was so stupid. Kids climb trees all the time.”
“They do,” I said.
“He wanted to go higher. His mom said no, but I’d always thought she was too over-protective.”
My eyes widened with the horror and anticipation of what I knew followed next.
“I grew up with cousins. We were rough. We did dangerous things all the time. We climbed trees. We were boys. So I told him to go ahead. I didn’t want him to grow up scared of things.”
“Oh, Hector . . .”
“He kept climbing . . . a branch snapped, and when he fell, his neck broke on impact. By the time I got to him, it was too late. In an instant, he was gone.”
“I’m so sorry.” My tears were down to my chin by the time his story was over.
“I’m a doctor, Carolina. Do you know what that feels like? To be adoctorand not be able to help the person you love most in the world? How helpless that is?”
I did know. But this washisstory. I only nodded.
“I don’t blame her for blaming me. Part of me knows it wasn’t my fault, but there is a warring part that blames me as much as she does.”
“Hector, it wasn’t your fault,” I said. “Kids play. There are hundreds of things that could happen to anyone at any time. You can’t stop them all.”
He smiled weakly at me. “That’s why this day is so damn hard on me.”
“You are allowed to not be perfect,” I whispered. “This may sound weird, but can we try something?”
His eyebrow arched, but he nodded. I moved to the edge of the sofa and patted my lap. “Lay down,” I said.
“What?”
“Lay down. Put your head on my lap.”
He hesitated.
“We’ve crossed enough professional lines tonight. What’s one more?”
He did as I said, and I stroked his hair. This was the most comforting feeling in the world, what Dad did for me when I was upset.
“That feels nice,” he said with a moan.
“Good. Now, why don’t you try to get a little shut-eye?”
I startled when Canica jumped on the couch and curled up next to Hector. I remembered Hector saying he hadn’t named her. I smiled, thinking of a six-year-old Jake naming his new pet. Hector’s eyes drifted closed, and I kept petting his head, sliding my fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair. He was a beautiful specimen sleeping. His features softened the deeper into sleep he went.
When the slightest of snores escaped him, I waited a few minutes then wiggled my way out from under him. Neither he nor Canica stirred. I went upstairs to his room and grabbed a blanket. Bringing it back downstairs, I covered him with it.
A sharp pain lanced through the center of my ribcage, and I knew it was because he was hurting. I stared for longer than I should have. His pain was breaking me.
I loved him.
I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. I wasinlove with him. If I wasn’t, his pain wouldn’t hurt me this much.
