Luis’s crying increases at Emilio’s harsh tone, and a silent tear slips past my defenses to trek down my cheek. This isn’t how I wanted this to go. None of this is what I wanted.
“Emilio—” Dominique tries again. He flicks his gaze toward me. “Maybe you should—”
“No.” He shakes his head, anger etched into every line of his body. “Give me my son.” Emilio holds his arms out but I take an involuntary step back.
His eyes blaze. “Let me hold my son, Bibiana,” he spits out my name with so much venom, I visibly shudder but manage to stand my ground and shake my head.
“You’re angry.”
“You would be too,” he snaps.
I rock Luis in my arms, running my hand over the back of his head in a soothing gesture as I struggle to remain calm. “I know. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be. But you’re angry and right now, you’re scary.” Really fucking scary. I don’t think Emilio would hurt me or Luis, but seeing him like this, it’s unnerving to say the least. “I’m sorry. But I’m not handing him to you. Not like this.”
I sway my body side to side and Luis’s cries finally stop. He sniffles a few times before his head rests against my shoulder. Exhaustion finally taking hold. When his eyes close, I release a small sigh of relief and turn back to the angry boy before me. Emilio’s entire body is taught like a bow string. I can tell he wants to argue but instead he gives me a stiff nod. He heads to the sofa and sits down, bowing his head and running his hands through his dark brown hair. His shoulders slump in defeat, and so many emotions run through me. Sorrow. Pain. Regret. I chance a look in Dominique’s direction, but instead of finding anger or disgust like I expect, I find resignation. I’m not sure that is any better.
“This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out,” I say the words in little more than a whisper.
“I’m sure you had your reasons for not telling him.” Dominique chimes in, not bothering to lower his voice, ensuring Emilio hears his words. “I can’t imagine being a single mom is easy. You’ve had to make some tough decisions. Sometimes they’re good ones. Other times maybe they’re not.”
I nod, worrying my lower lip. This obviously wasn’t one of my better ones.
“But, I can see you love that little boy.” He tilts his chin toward his friend. “Do right by him and give Emilio a chance to love him too.”
It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I didn’t mean to keep Luis a secret. I wanted to tell him. It just never seemed like the right time. I’m so angry with myself for letting this happen. For letting it come out like this.
Dominique tosses his keys beside Emilio and heads to the door. “I’ll catch a ride with Aaron. Call me if you need anything. We’ll fill you in later when you have time.” Emilio doesn’t respond, not that Dominique waits for him to.
When the door closes behind him, I stand there for a few moments, almost afraid to move, before I muster up the courage to say, “I’m going to lay him down in his crib. If …” I take a deep breath. “If you’re still here when I come back and you want to talk, we can do that.”
He doesn’t answer, so I head upstairs and gently lay Luis down in his crib before slipping into the bathroom. My cheeks are red and blotchy, my eyeliner smudged beneath my eyes and the small wing at the corners long since rubbed away. I wash away the emotions of today and go back downstairs, almost surprised to find Emilio in the exact same spot I left him in.
A part of me was sure he would have left. I’m not sure if I should be relieved that he chose to stay.
When he hears me enter the room, he lifts his head and I freeze. Grief stands out in sharp relief across his face, and it twists me up inside to see him like this.
I sink down on the bottom step of the staircase, wrapping my arms around my knees. I don’t know what to say, or if I should even say anything at all. So, I wait. Seconds tick by, turning into minutes as we stare at one another. I hope he can see how sorry I am. That my eyes can convey what my words have failed to give him.
When a full five minutes passes, he shakes his head and stands up, but he doesn’t go anywhere. He just…stands there. The anger has drained out from his body, leaving behind a boy who looks lost and alone. Broken. And I’m responsible for that.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him sooner,” I say, my words whispered.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asks. “If I hadn’t found out today, would you have ever said anything?” His words are equally quiet as though he’s afraid of the answer.
I push to my feet and move closer to him. “I wanted to tell you the first day I saw you. I had every intention of letting you know right away but…” I bite my lip and Emilio tilts his head back staring at the ceiling. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows.
“But then you heard about my reputation.” I exhales a harsh breath. “And then I finger-fucked you in a classroom. Fuck.”
He reaches out and jerks me to him, wrapping his arms around my shoulders in a fierce embrace. “I’m so fucking mad at you for keeping him from me,” he says into my hair and I tentatively wrap my arms around his waist. I have no idea why he’s holding me like this, but I don’t really care. I need this. Need the contact. I need to feel like things will be okay. That he isn’t going to hate me forever.
“You should have told me. I don’t give a fuck about everything else. You should have told me right away.”
“It’s only been—” He cuts me off, his body trembling beneath my hold.
“A week, Bibiana. It’s been a week that you’ve been here. That’s a week I can’t get back. A week of not knowing I had a son and of him not knowing me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, because he’s right. If roles were reversed, I’d feel the same way.
“I want to hate you,” he whispers almost too quiet for me to hear, but I do and my heart plummets to the soles of my feet. “And when my head stops spinning, I just might. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get over the fact that you kept him from me. I missed so fucking much.” He releases me and takes two steps back.
I feel cold at the loss of contact and wrap my arms around myself.
“I—” I don’t know what to say to that.
“I want to get to know him,” he says, voice firm. “I want visitation and I want it in writing.”
His last statement takes me by surprise, and I swallow hard as a trickle of fear worms its way through me before reason has me locking the emotion away. This is what I wanted. I want my son to have his father. I want him to feel wanted and Emilio demanding visitation is him showing that he wants to be in Luis’s life. I take a deep breath and force out my next words.
“I’d like that too.”
His eyes widen before he nods his head. “Okay. Good.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “When can I have him?”
I frown. “Um…”
“Can I pick him up tomorrow?”
“You want to pick him up?” I ask, licking my lips. “And take him where?”
“I don’t know. The park. Maybe Roman’s.” He shrugs.
It’s the middle of winter. What does he think they’re going to do at the park? Luis isn’t even walking on his own yet. “Have you ever looked after a baby?” I ask as gently as possible because I really don’t want to fight with him about this. “Luis is only nine months old. He …umm…” I can see that Emilio is about to argue so I rush out my next words. “What if you came here instead? You could take a few days to get to know him. Make sure he’s comfortable with you and it’ll give you a chance to learn umm … how to look after an infant?” That sounds a lot more patronizing that I mean it to be.
He considers it and the silence stretches between us. “Fine.”
I release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Okay. Good.”
We stare at each other for a beat. “His name is Luis?” he asks. His eyes keep flicking toward the staircase, and I know he wants to see him again.
“Yeah. Luis Afonso Sousa.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw.
When he doesn’t snap or yell at me, I move closer and tentatively reach out, tugging on his sleeve. “Come on,” I say and lead him up the staircase to my room.
Outside the door, he hesitates for only a minute before following me inside. The lights are out, but there is a small night-light and sound machine beside Luis’s crib that illuminates his sleeping form. Careful not to wake him, I wave toward my bed, indicating that Emilio have a seat. His eyes are glued to our son and a small smile curls the corners of his mouth as he takes a seat, leaning forward for a better view.
“He’s perfect,” he whispers, and I can’t help but match his smile.
“He has your eyes and your mouth,” I tell him, claiming the space beside him.
“He does?”
I nod.
We sit in silence, watching our little boy sleep, and despite today being a complete disaster of epic proportions, a small part of me is hopeful. Emilio wants to be in Luis’s life, and that alone is more than I could have hoped for.
Eleven
I stay at Bibiana’s until just past midnight watching my boy sleep, the steady rise and fall of his tiny body doing something to soothe the raging devil inside of me. I have a kid. A son. One she kept secret from me for all this time. Fuck. I scrub my hands over my face and look down at her. She drifted off to sleep close to an hour ago, her tiny body curled up beside me on top of her comforter. Exhaustion lines her face and a part of me is sorry for that, but the bigger part of me, the all-consuming asshole deep inside is furious with her. I’m having to try real hard not to explode.
What the actual fuck?
I shove to my feet and lean over the crib railing, giving Luis one last look. “I’ll be back later, little man.” I tell him, tracing a finger along his cheek. He’s so small. Fragile. Looking at him brings home the fact that my entire world is about to flip upside down right now.
I head for the door, leaving Bibiana undisturbed on her bed. She said I could see him tomorrow. Well, technically today. But I need a few hours of sleep and a shower before I’ll be in any sort of shape to meet my little boy.
I jog down the stairs, grabbing Dominique’s keys along the way and head straight for my place. My mind is roiling and my stomach is twisted into knots. I want to call Roman, but I know he’s got his hands full with Allie’s shit right now, and she needs him more than I do. And isn’t that a fucking plot twist. Bibiana’s what? Stepdad, or whatever he is to her, is one of the sons of bitches who raped Allie.
My blood boils as an entirely different sort of anger thrums through my veins. I need to do something. Hit something or someone. I slam my palm against the steering wheel and scream out my frustrations. What the hell am I going to do?
Bibiana seems onboard with me being in his life, but that could be the adrenaline of the night’s events talking. A lot has happened. What if she wakes up in the morning and changes her mind? What if she decides I’m not good enough? Or fuck, worse, what if she takes off again? She might. She’s done it before and with her mom taking that asshole’s side. What if—
Shit. I still don’t have the girl’s fucking number.
I’m about to turn around and go back when my phone pings with the sound of an incoming text message.
Allie: Are you okay?
I pull over to the side of the road and stare down at the illuminated screen.
Me: I should be asking you that. You good, vanilla?
I take a deep breath through my nose and exhale loudly through my mouth as I wait for her response. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through right now, and the fact that she’s still worried about me… I hang my head. She’s too much. Too good. This is why we all liked her when she transferred in. She’s not like other women. She isn’t selfish. She’s there when you need her. The girl is the strongest person I know.
Allie: I’m ok. Dom told me what happened. I didn’t know.
Even if she did, I could never be mad at her. Allie is…I don’t know. She’s my friend. But she’s more. Like a sister but not. I don’t know how to describe it. What I do know is that she never gives up. She puts everyone else’s needs before her own. But this time, she needs to put herself first. She doesn’t need my shit. I love her for it. But I’m gonna figure this out. I don’t want her worrying about me when she has her own mess to handle.
Me: Not your fault. Get some sleep. We can talk about it later. You have enough on your plate.
Allie: It’s going to be okay. Love you, E.
Me: You too, vanilla.
I pull back on the road and go straight home, pausing in the driveway at the sight of Raul’s beat up Civic. Shit. I do not have time for this right now. I climb out of the car and head for the door, only then spotting that it’s standing slightly ajar. Fuck me.
I take a deep breath and push it open. A broken bottle sits discarded in the entryway. I listen, but don’t hear anything. No voices. No footsteps. I creep through the house, careful to keep my steps quiet. Where the hell is my Antonio? Where’s Sofia?
One of my questions is answered when I find my brother passed out on the living room floor, dried blood beneath his nose and mouth. Fuck. I drop down to my knees and check for a pulse. It’s steady. He’s just knocked out. I shake his shoulders and he stirs with a start.
“What the—”
“Where’s Sofia?” My heart races as I scan the room for our little sister.
He groans and I know his head has got to be killing him. I help him into a sitting position. “The bastard took me by surprise.”
I clench my jaw because that’s what he always does. You never know when or if he’s going to swing. There’s no way to read Raul. One second, he’s fine and the next he’s in a manic rage trying to kill his own fucking children.
“Sofia,” I prompt when my brother doesn’t say anything else.
“Shit.” He pushes to his feet. “What time is it?”
“Maybe twelve-thirty. Where is she, Antonio?”
His shoulders relax and he heads for the hallway that leads to our rooms. There’s more broken glass here and a few drops of blood splattered across the floor. I’m assuming those belong to Raul because they all lead toward his room at the very end of the hallway.
Antonio raises his finger to his lips in the universal sign to be quiet as he slowly opens the door that leads to my bedroom. We step inside and he goes straight for my closet. Sofia is asleep inside, her tiny body curled into the fetal position. We both stare down at her, relief sweeping through me once I can see for myself that she’s okay.
I lean down to lift her out, careful not to wake her as I lay her on my bed and tuck the blankets around her. When she’s settled, I follow Antonio back into the hall, locking the door behind me. It only locks from the inside, so she can let herself out when she wakes up. I won’t be able to get back in until then, at least not without waking her. But it’s better this way. I need to talk to my brother and find out what the hell happened, and I can’t do that and worry about the bastard down the hall getting to my baby sister.
“What the hell happened?” I asked, my voice pitched low as soon as we’re a safe distance away.
He rolls his neck and scrubs a palm down his face, wincing in pain when he brushes over his bruised cheek. “What always happens. He showed up maybe an hour ago.” Antonio shakes his head. “I heard his car roll up and hid Sofia before he stepped through the front door. Made her promise not to come out and to keep quiet.”
I nod my head. That’s what we usually do when Raul comes around. She’s looking more and more like our mom as she gets older, and the sight of her alone has been enough to set him off the few times he’s dropped by recently.
“You okay?”
Antonio nods. “Yeah. I’m good. I don’t remember much after the second punch, but I didn’t fight back so he must have gotten bored.”
“You should go to the—”
“I said I’m good,” he snaps. Antonio hangs his head, palms clenched into fists at his sides. “
I fucking hate this.” He moves further down the hall to the kitchen and pulls out a bag of frozen corn before taking a seat at the table. He holds it against his face and mutters out a few choice words.
I grab two beers from the fridge, open both, and hand one to him across the table before taking a seat. “What’s the plan?” I ask, hoping he’s come up with something. Raul is getting worse, and we all have shit going on. We do our best to protect Sofia, but one of these days he’s bound to come up on her alone, and none of us knows what will happen when that day comes.
“I don’t know, man.” He’s fighting exhaustion. Shit. We both are. Too much has happened today. Too many things to process. To try and figure out.
“What are you doing home so late? I figured you’d have been here earlier, or later if you crashed at Romans.”
I debate telling him about Luis, but before I can make up my mind, my brother proves just how well he knows me with his next words. “What happened?”
“It can wait.”
Antonio shakes his head. “No. Don’t do that. I know you’ve got your boys, but you got me too. Come on, Emilio. What happened?”
I grind my teeth down as frustration radiates through every cell in my body. I want to tell him. I want his support, but Antonio doesn’t do well when his plate is full. He’s like Roberto. He bails rather than dealing with it. He might be doing better than our oldest brother—when shit got too real, he enlisted in the military and never looked back. Antonio, at least, stuck around after his eighteenth birthday—but he still takes off sometimes for a week or more at a time.
“E?”
“Don’t you dare bail, you got me?”
His eyes widen, but he nods. “I won’t bail.”
“I’m serious, Antonio. I can’t deal with Raul and my own shit right now. Not by myself.”
He nods his head, his face twisted into a solemn expression. “I won’t leave.”
“Okay.” I hesitate and have to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I have a kid.”
His eyes widen to the size of saucers. “You knocked a girl up?”
Savage Devil: A Secret Baby, High School Bully Romance (Devils of Sun Valley High Book 2) Page 9
