Looking For Love (Semper Fi, The Forever Faithful Series Book 2)

by Stella Starling

  “Did you talk to her, Ana?” he asked, knowing that when Ana’s shows weren’t on, her next favorite pastime was keeping up with the comings and goings of all the residents of Cielo del Mar.

  “Sí,” Ana said, looking like she’d just sucked a lemon. “I was outside when she went up the stairs to your apartment, Zachary. There was un perro callejero under the gooseberry that I was trying to coax out, and—”

  “A stray dog? Ana, you should be careful.”

  “Pfft,” she said, waving away his concern. “This one is not dangerous. I have seen it twice before, and each time it is more scared than the last. Today, it ran off when Janis came back down the stairs.”

  “What did Janis want?”

  Ana shrugged. “She only asked me if I knew when you would be back, but of course I did not, and I am glad it is not her you are taking out tomorrow. If anyone deserves love, it is you, Zachary, and I do not think you would find it with that woman.”

  “Agreed. Janis is a permanent no-go, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Good,” Ana said forcefully. But then she added a cautious, “And your date tomorrow…?”

  “Hopefully it will go well,” he answered, lips twitching.

  He knew that wasn’t what she was really asking. But hopefully it would go well… even if he hadn’t exactly felt a spark, yet.

  Ana sighed. “Please tell me that you’re taking out a girl, and not a boy this time, mijo.”

  Her bafflement at his bisexuality was something they’d long ago agreed to disagree on. Over the years, her discomfort with the idea had been tempered by her genuine affection for him, and he suspected that if he ever did manage to fall in love—and if it happened to be with another man—her excitement over the “love” part would be the final push she needed to come around on the rest.

  Still, right now? He figured it didn’t hurt to give her yet another gentle nudge in the right direction. Even though his upcoming date was with a woman—Delia, someone he’d met at the gym the week before—Zach just smiled and shrugged, more than happy to let her think it might be a man.

  “Your interest in boys, I do not understand it,” Ana said, shaking her head as she fell for it hook, line, and sinker. “It is not natural. How will you make a family? You need to stick with the girls, Zachary. Find someone who can give you a baby…”

  Zach raised an eyebrow in a silent dare for her to continue. Ana had the good grace to blush, knowing as well as he did that his own parents were living proof that being able to make a baby wasn’t the same as making a family… and it certainly wasn’t any kind of guarantee that there’d be love.

  And without that, what was the point?

  Still, even though Ana’s deeply rooted religious beliefs led her to spout ignorant bullshit occasionally, Zach knew her heart was in the right place. And he’d take big-hearted Ana with her mild case of bigotry over the coldness and neglect he’d grown up with, any day.

  “Every family looks different, Ana,” he said, biting back a grin when the sheepish expression on her face made it clear that she knew she’d put her foot in her mouth. “As far as I can tell, the only common thread in the best ones is love.”

  Ana tsked, shaking her head at him as she tried to hold onto a stern look that he knew was mostly for show. There was no way she was going to disagree with that statement. In Ana’s world, love really did conquer all.

  Still, she took one more stab at holding her position.

  “Your heart is good, Zachary, and I know you will follow it. And it is not my place to judge, but His—”

  Zach’s choked laughter cut her off, and she smacked his hand, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she made a valiant effort to hold back a smile.

  Not her place? They both knew that keeping up on other people’s business was Ana’s number-one pastime, and he was pretty sure that passing judgment on what everyone else was doing—or at least being strongly and vocally opinionated—was a close second. What on earth would she keep herself busy with if she left it all up to a God who Zach had never been quite convinced approached the job with quite the same gusto as Ana García did?

  “If God is going to judge me, Ana, it definitely won’t be for this. Love is no sin.”

  She pursed her lips, then gave it up and beamed at him. “Well, you might be right, and maybe tomorrow you will find the one, no? Even if he can’t give you babies?”

  “Maybe,” Zach said optimistically, holding back a laugh.

  He was perfectly fine with letting Ana continue to think his upcoming date was with a man. The truth was, though, that as nice as Delia was, he wasn’t holding out a lot of hope that she’d actually turn out to be “the one.” Still, he was open to being proven wrong.

  After all, the point of getting out there and dating was to find out, right?

  Zach had never shied away from putting in a little work to get what he wanted, and even though Ana liked to claim that her heart had instantly recognized her Fernando the moment she’d laid eyes on him, Zach secretly thought the idea sounded a little far-fetched.

  In Ana’s case, her conviction had no doubt been colored by both the passing of years and her own romantic nature. Still, he did believe in the “spark.” It was easy to see that it was still alive for her, even years after her husband’s passing, and it was equally obvious when Zach looked at his friends who had already found it. But it still seemed far more likely that it was the kind of thing that took a little time to grow between two people, rather than happening like a bolt out of the blue.

  Zach, for one, certainly didn’t expect love to just fall at his feet. Real life just didn’t work that way.

  “You must tell me how it goes tomorrow, mijo,” Ana said, patting his hand. “You know that I am an old woman, and I would like to see you happy before I die.”

  Zach’s lips twitched at the drama. She may have looked frail, but he had no doubt that Ana’s irrepressible spirit would keep her going for years. He hoped so, at least.

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” he said, leaning down to kiss Ana’s wrinkled cheek before turning toward the stairs that led up to his apartment.

  “I will put in a good word, Zachary,” Ana said magnanimously, crossing herself and gesturing toward the heavens. “And you know that He listens to me.”

  “Thank you,” Zach said, biting back his smile.

  “Ah Dios, I cannot believe I am praying for you to find the love of another man,” she muttered under her breath, making Zach laugh. Then, louder, she added, “I do this only for you, Zachary. And you must pay close attention so that you do not miss the one He sends you. I do not want my efforts to be wasted.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Zach said, grinning as he threw her a quick salute. “Good night, Ana.”

  He waited to hear her turn all of her locks before heading up the stairs. The long day was starting to catch up with him, and by the time he reached his apartment, the smile that his visit with Ana had put on his face had stretched into a wide yawn.

  He probably shouldn’t have stacked a first date on top of a weekend full of so many other activities. In fact, after a truly half-assed version of his normal nighttime routine that included just barely remembering to set his alarm for the morning, Zach’s last thought before sleep took him was that if Ana’s prayers did work, the God she put so much faith in had better make it unmistakably obvious if He planned on sending Zach “the one” anytime soon.

  Because after a full weekend of adrenaline-inducing fun? Zach was going to be tired as fuck.

  2

  Micah

  Mission Bay Marina was crowded and chaotic, and Micah took a deep breath, tightening his hands around his camera like a security blanket as he reminded himself that he could do this. Sure, the day would probably be filled with a series of minor public embarrassments, the occasional awkward collision, and the possibility of new scrapes and bruises, but it would totally be worth it to be able to add another tick mark to his calendar for successfully navigating the world,
all on his own.

  “Please, for the love of God, take a picture of them,” Sam whispered in his ear, nodding toward a group of bikini-clad girls that were bouncy in all the places Micah knew Sam liked best.

  Micah laughed. “Um, no. I’d feel like a creepy stalker.”

  “Dude, you take pictures of people without them knowing all the time. If I’m gonna have to look at them with you later, at least give me some eye candy.”

  Micah shook his head, still grinning, and started toward the shore. Before he’d taken more than a step, though, Sam put a hand on his shoulder, a quick touch, two squeezes, in the same code they’d been using since they were kids—obstacle—and Micah stopped walking.

  “Aren’t you leaving?” he asked, turning to Sam with a smile to take any sting out of the question. Not that he didn’t love hanging out with his best friend, but that’s not what today was about. And, sure, if Sam hadn’t just warned him, he might have tripped over the—what was it? Something gray and bulky. A trash can?—but then again, he might not have.

  Well, okay, he probably would have, actually.

  He’d been distracted by the sparkle of the sun on the Pacific and the fast, smooth-then-jerky motions of the people riding the jet packs and the thousand-and-one other distracting colors and shifting shapes and constant, never-ending movement…

  And fine. Yes. The truth was that he really hadn’t seen the trash can at all. Not this time.

  Micah nibbled his lip, cocking his head to the side as he eyed it. He’d get this. He would.

  “Trying to get rid of me?” Sam teased. “But yeah, I’m going already. You want me to stop by your place and walk Pippin before I come back and pick you up?”

  “No, but thanks,” Micah said, a wave of guilt hitting him as he remembered the sad sound of Pippin’s whine when she’d realized she wasn’t coming with him today. “I’ll take her out later. I don’t want her to think I don’t have time for her anymore.”

  “Dude, she probably appreciates having a break from all her hard work. Early retirement, right? Don’t worry about it so much.”

  Micah shook his head, laughing ruefully. Sam meant well, but he didn’t really get it. Pippin thrived on working and moped when she couldn’t, and in some ways, Micah knew that the last year had been even more frustrating for her than for him. She couldn’t understand why things had changed between them, and Micah knew that a part of her loyal heart felt like she was failing him.

  He still needed Pipp because he loved her… but he didn’t need her the way she wanted to be needed. Pippin had a heart of service, not the heart of a pet.

  From the moment they’d met, she’d been the ideal seeing-eye dog—ridiculously smart, incredibly well-trained, and totally fulfilled by being able to help. She’d been a godsend when he’d been blind, giving him a level of freedom and confidence—and a sweet, constant companionship—that had changed his life. Ever since Micah had regained his sight, though, he hadn’t been able to use her in harness, and it definitely took a toll on her happiness. At first, he’d assumed he wouldn’t need to use her anymore. Then, when it had become clear that his new sight wasn’t exactly all it was cracked up to be, he’d tried letting Pippin guide him the way she always had.

  But that hadn’t worked out so well… for either one of them.

  “You do still need more practice with the whole face thing, right?” Sam asked, nudging Micah as another herd of bikinis walked past.

  Micah laughed, Sam’s single-minded focus pulling him out of his guilt trip over Pippin for the moment. “You’re impossible,” he said. “Do you ever think with anything other than your dick?”

  “Not my fault,” Sam said, craning his head around to watch the girls as they passed. “Unlike some people, I like to take mine out and actually use it once in a while.”

  “Shut up,” Micah said, blushing hard. He definitely took his out and used it... he just hadn’t managed to find an opportunity to use it with anyone else quite yet.

  Sam made it all look easy. Micah had known him since first grade—they’d met a year after the accident that had blinded Micah—and even back then, Sam had never been shy around girls.

  Well, actually, Micah wasn’t all that shy around girls, either. Guys, on the other hand...

  Sam laughed. “Don’t you ever worry it’s gonna fall off if you don’t figure out what to do with it one of these days, Micah? I’d offer some tips, but dude, I’ve got no clue on the gay.” He tapped Micah’s camera, nodding after the group of girls he’d been eyeing. “Seriously, faces?”

  “Even I can tell that those aren’t their faces, Sam,” Micah said, grinning.

  In some ways, seeing was so much more than he could have imagined—so much more than he remembered—but in practical ways? Even though Micah had been able to see perfectly well at age five, once he’d gone blind, his brain had apparently found better uses for the parts that normally handled vision.

  After his successful surgery the year before, Dr. Schuster had confirmed that Micah’s eyes were back to 20/20 vision… the problem was that being able to see wasn’t entirely up to his eyes. In Micah’s case, once his eyes sent those 20/20 images to his brain, things went a little wonky.

  After seventeen years without sight, his brain simply had no context for the information his eyes streamed to it. He just wasn’t wired for vision anymore, so even though he had his sight back, he couldn’t always see.

  Movement and color were easiest. But depth? Objects? Faces?

  Not so much.

  Still, by context alone, he definitely knew the difference between faces and asses. The girls were walking away, after all.

  He grinned when Sam gave him what he was pretty sure was a pleading look and mouthed the word “faces” again hopefully.

  Micah shook his head.

  “You’re no fun,” Sam said, giving him a pitiful sigh. “But if you’re not working on faces today, what are you planning on getting pictures of?”

  “Well… I do want faces, actually,” Micah said, laughing when Sam muttered a few choice words under his breath. “But other things, too. The jet packs, maybe? I don’t know for sure. I just need to—”

  “Practice seeing,” Sam finished for him, having heard it a thousand times. “I know, I know. Even I can tell you’re getting better though, dude. Seriously. The world becoming a little less Picasso?”

  Micah nodded. Dr. Schuster had mentioned that other patients whom he’d performed the cornea replacement surgery on had compared their restored sight to “looking at the world through Picasso-like glasses,” but when Micah had looked up the famous painter’s work online, he hadn’t been able to make much more sense of it than of what he saw in the real world.

  Which, actually, had maybe been Dr. Schuster’s point.

  “Give me your phone,” Sam said, tapping something into it when Micah handed it over and then passing it back. “I set it to buzz at you in a few hours, mkay? I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

  “Sounds good,” Micah said, grinning. He might show up a little the worse for wear if any more trash cans got in his way, but the only way to get better at navigating the world on his own was to actually get out there and do it, right?

  Sam pulled him in for a quick, one-armed hug. “I’m out. Don’t trip over too many things, huh? And take some pictures of something good—” he nodded at the girls, or maybe a different girl, Micah couldn’t tell, “—so I can help you figure out your images later, ’kay?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Micah said, biting back a smile. “After all, you are saving me the horror of dealing with the San Diego bus system.”

  “Damn right,” Sam said, turning to walk backward through the crowds as he took his leave. “See ya.”

  God, Micah couldn’t even manage to walk forward smoothly half the time, but no point in being jealous. He’d get there eventually… well, hopefully. And he probably would take a few bikini shots for Sam. Faces, not asses, but still something Sam would enjoy looking
at.

  For all his teasing, Sam had been great about patiently poring over a million different photos with Micah over the last year, doing his best to explain what every expression—every subtle lift of an eyebrow or downturn of lip—actually meant. There were so many variations, and they were so darn hard to see at times. Just a fraction of an inch of movement could express an entirely different emotion, and while sighted people picked them up from a lifetime of familiarity, Micah… didn’t.

  He sighed, reminding himself for the umpteenth time that despite Dr. Schuster’s somewhat dire prediction that it might be too late for Micah’s brain to ever catch up—that brains worked on a use-it-or-lose-it basis, and Micah may have already passed the “lose it” stage—he’d never been one to give up hope.

  After all, practicing had already helped.

  Well… a little, at least.

  He’d started with old photos of family and friends, but somehow it seemed to work better when he took the pictures himself. That way, when he looked at them later, he could also remember other clues from what had been happening at the moment he’d captured the shot. Micah’s ability to make sense of what was right in front of him was less about instant recognition than it was a best guess, based in large part on context.

  Sometimes it was exhausting, but—he grinned—being able to see? It was also freaking amazing.

  Micah raised his camera, aiming out at the jet pack action on the water, but even with the zoom lens he was too far away to get anything useful. When it came to facial expressions, he needed to be close enough to capture details.

  Someone passed by right in front of him, and he lowered his camera, the zoom making them leap into a little too much detail. Not that Sam would have minded that shot, but even though Sam was right—Micah did take pictures of strangers without asking—he still tried to be respectful about it.