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* * *
Esteban is a living, breathing monster.
While he had Gabriella imprisoned, chained to a bed like some animal, terrorizing her, he was also violating her. I can’t bring myself to describe the state in which we found her. It’s hard enough to keep the image from popping into my head without breaking down.
Shortly after being rescued, Gabriella discovered she was pregnant. Devastated doesn’t cover what we felt, knowing the baby may not be mine. But as she cried in my arms, I decided paternity didn’t matter.
We’re having a child; I’m going to be a father. Something which could have ripped us apart is bringing us even closer together. This baby is a blessing.
* * *
I swallow hard, afraid to look into Maceo’s eyes, afraid my face will reflect the horror I feel for what he’s going through. Esteban could be Maceo’s father and by rape. How is my husband ever going to come to terms with that?”
Maceo must not want to read the emotions on my face either. He grimaces and looks away. The hurt I see makes my heart sink, knowing this is tearing him apart.
I set the journal aside, turn toward Maceo, and take his face in my hands. I make sure I have his undivided attention before speaking. “This changes nothing.”
“But—” Maceo tries to argue.
“Shut it, Maceo, and listen to the words coming out of my mouth. This means nothing and changes nothing. It’s probably not true and speculation at best.”
Maceo again tries to interrupt me, but I silence him by placing my fingertips over his lips. I soften my voice. “And if it is true, it still means nothing. Family is what you make of it. You’re my family—always. I don’t care how you came into existence; I only care about you.”
Maceo’s face crumbles at my last sentence. He fights to hold in the harsh sobs crawling their way up to his clenched throat. I pull him against me. I don’t try to stop him—he needs to release this toxicity eating at him. He’s been bottling this knowledge up for God knows how long. He doesn’t need to be strong right now—he can be vulnerable around me. I’ll be his rock while his waves of pain crash against me. I hold him, run my hands over his back, and kiss him everywhere I can reach.
“There were bondage restraints on the posts of the bed where he kept mymamá, Pixie. He had her for six weeks. Six fucking weeks!” he roars.
Oh, my poor, sweet husband.My heart aches for him. I feel all is anger like ripples upon my skin. How did he keep himself together long enough to get back home? If the shoe were on the other foot, I would be a hot mess.
This isn’t fair to him. A selfish part of me wishes he could have been left in the dark. How could discovering this atrocity be beneficial to him? It’s not.
If I could undo what Esteban did, I would. If I could wipe Maceo’s memory of this knowledge, I would, without hesitation. I feel so useless. There’s nothing I can do other than be present, listen, and reassure him. Is it enough? God, I hope so.
“My birthday is exactly nine months from that time,” he whispers.
I squeeze my eyes tight, refusing to think along this path. Knowing I could be wrong, I give him hope to focus on. “Some babies go past forty weeks,” I remind him. It’s not uncommon at all. “You were a big baby—you were probably overdue.”
Maceo's eyes meet mine with uncertainty, but I can see he wants to believe my words as much as I want to. “You think so?”
“Yes, I do,” I reassure him. “I told you I saw your baby book when we moved in at headquarters. You were huge—you baked too long, Maceo.”
He still doesn’t look convinced. “But it explains why he was always around. He must have suspected I could be his.”
True—Esteban’s obsession with Maceo when he was a kid makes total sense if he knew or even speculated Maceo was his son. The hell if I tell my husband that; he’s freaking out enough.
I wave my hand dismissively. “Esteban was around because he’s a sadistic fuck who loves to cause others pain. That’s evident with what he did to your mom.”
“But what if it’s true?”
I’ll do everything I can to make him see how I truly feel. “So what? You somehow think this binds you to him, and it doesn’t. He’s nothing to you, and he never will be. You had a dad, and Esteban killed him.”
“Do you think mypadredidn’t care if I was his or not? He loved me regardless?”
“Absolutely. Your dad didn’t give two shits if you were biologically his or not. He loved your mom and you. He stayed, knowing it was a possibility. He. Chose. You.”
I remain silent as I let Maceo absorb my last words. He sighs heavily, relaxing in my arms. “Why would myabuelanot tell me? She knew about the journal and never said anything.”
“Because it didn’t matter to her. You were her grandson, blood, or not. She knew you needed answers to what happened to your parents, but she wanted you to have all the love in the world until her time on earth ended. She loved you regardless of DNA. In her eyes, you were hers.”
