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I shake my head, silent sobs racking my chest.
“For you, Ivy. Death it nothing when being with you is even a small possibility. I’d do it again, twenty times over, if I can see your face.” His hand brushes my cheek. “Touch your skin.” He shakes his head, like he was reliving a terrible memory. “Death is nothing when I get even a second of life with you.”
I fold over, wanting to curl into his side and cry for the millionth time.
He presses his pointer under my chin and tilts my head up. “I love you, Ivy. More than you can ever realize. Love is something I never wanted or hoped for, but I don’t think you have much of a choice when it falls at your feet. You demanded love, Ivy, in your eyes, how they looked so lost. In your voice that sounded so broken. In the angelic way you move, but with a guard so high I don’t know if I could have ever broken it down. But I did, and I can’t fucking help the love that I have for you anymore. And I’m not sorry for it. Not in the slightest.” He coughs, his entire chest shaking with the effort. He looks absolutely exhausted as he looks up at me. “I love you, Ivy, so fucking much.”
I gasp, shock rolling through me like a tidal wave, even with my hope and need, hearing the words come from his mouth still turn me upside down.
“I love you, too, Aziel.” I press into him gently.
He grips the back of my neck and pulls me down to his lips. I melt into him, letting go of the breath that has been stuck in my chest since Día de los Muertos. It’s like I’m finally able to breathe after all this time. He breathes life into me, and I breathe life back into him.
He’s home.
25
Aziel
My knuckles sinks deep into the cheek of Bronson, our new prospect. His head kicks to the side, spit flying from his lips and onto the ground. I clock him once more with the other hand, just because I’m fucking irritated. And he’s the new prospect. The little shit needs to prove his worth.
With the second hit, he stumbles back, almost falling on his ass if his back wouldn’t have hit the gate.
“Don’t fuck up again.” I growl, nostrils flaring as I point at him.
My anger has been a little unbridled these last three months. Ever since I got home. Not that I’m not happy, because I’m fucking over the moon.
I’m home. My boys are home. My girl is here. Lilah is here.
Santiago’s head burned at the stake like a damn tiki torch until it resembled coal.
But as I walk away from Bronson and back towards my bike, the slight limp I try to cover just pisses me off all over again.
The doctor said, because I put pressure on the break for such an extended period of time when my body was already taxed out, I might have minor nerve damage.
He says minor, but when I’m twenty-five years old and limping like a fucking gimp, I am pissed. Not only that, but the numbness and tingling feel almost constant. It makes walking difficult. If I can barely walk, I can’t ride. If I can’t ride, I can’t work.
It’s a circle of shit, is what it is.
The doctor says give it time. I say punch Bronson in the face for being the new guy.
As I’m walking towards the mechanic’s shop, Ivy bursts through the doors with a look of bewilderment in her eyes. “You hit Bronson,again?” She slams her hands on her hips.
I shrug.
Lilah squeezes between Ivy’s legs and brightens up when she sees me. “Dad!” She screams, then her eyes go wide, and she stops. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She looks up at her mom, her dolloped cheeks pinkening in embarrassment. “I mean Z.”
I squat down in front of her, my foot shaking in protest by the pressure of my movement. “Hey, Lilah.”
She looks up at me.
“What did I say?” I say, voice quiet but steady.
She pulls on a curly lock of her hair. “I can call you Dad if I’m uncomfortable with it.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “No, but close. I said you can call me Dad if you and your mom arecomfortablewith it.”
She looks up at Ivy, and Ivy’s face softens to butter. “I told you Lilah. You do what you want to do, baby girl.”
