I make the drive to work just in time for the rain to start. It’s going to be that kind of day, I suppose.
The rain comes down in sheets, which keeps the phone pretty quiet and allows me time to get caught up on the paperwork. My shift ends with not one word from Ruben. We only have our van and his bike, so it’s not unusual for him to ride in the rain, but it’s really coming down today.
I try to call him to see if he wants me to pick him up from work since he’s just one building over, but he doesn’t answer. He’s either pouting like a child or working on a car. Either way, my day is done. I need to get to Pam’s to pick up my kids and get home to start dinner.
Rushing through the drenching rain, I get in my van and start it. I pull away, not giving any thought to the light on the dashboard, the one I took the time to look up online at work today. The light warning me of my low tire pressure.
The steering wheel starts to shake, and the road noise of the tires changes when I’m about five miles from home. Finding a safe place to pull over, I get out to find my tire is flat.
“No mames. I should have told him about this.” I look to the night sky, talking to myself. I’m on the side of the road, a road where people drive sixty miles an hour with a very small shoulder, and I have to sort out changing a tire. “Way to go, Jenna,” I mutter to myself as I try to call Ruby again, only to have no answer. Then I dial Pam to let her know I will be late getting my kids.
“Hey, Jenna,” she greets.
“I’m gonna be late. I have a flat on fifty-eight.”
“You need me to send Boomer?”
I sigh as I fight back tears. No, I don’t want her to send Boomer. I want my husband, the man who vowed to be by my side to do just that. Swallowing my pride because I need to get home to my children, I reply, “Please.”
Without hesitation, she gets my specific location and hangs up after promising Boomer will be right there. While I wait, I send Ruby a text, letting him know my situation.
No reply.
I see red—fire. I am burning hot mad.
The Question
“Thanks, Boomer.” I end the call, thanking my brother for getting my woman off the side of the road and home safely.
Vida didn’t answer when I called her back. I was working and didn’t take a break to call her like I usually would.
It’s raining cats and dogs as I make my way home. Pulling up, my clothes are drenched, and my eyes burn from fighting to see the road in front of me. Then I look into the front yard, surprised to see she hasn’t packed up my shit again.
I sit outside in the rain for a few minutes. I know there will be hell to pay when I walk in that door. Sure, I fucked up; I know that. I’m man enough to say I was a dick who pushed her buttons this morning. I was an ass to not call her back, too. I am a selfish prick for trying to provoke something out of her, all for me to find something I lost.
When she opens the front door so I can see the light from the house from behind our storm door, I know my time to sit in the rain is done. Her patience with me is done.
Climbing off the bike, I remove my helmet to make my way inside. At the front door, I’m greeted by Maritza holding a towel and RJ ready to take my helmet. I kiss my children on the tops of their heads before sending them off.
Jenna is in the kitchen, working on dinner. She says nothing. She doesn’t look up and give me the stare. No, she remains steadfast in her task.
“I’m sorry I missed your call.”
She turns away from me. “Boomer took care of it. Go and dry off and change your clothes for dinner.” She is calm and collected, as if nothing has happened. “The children are hungry, and I don’t want to make them wait any longer if we don’t have to.”
The woman I married, the woman I fell in love with, would have bitten my head off and threatened to serve me my balls for dinner for not being there for her. Who the hell is the woman in the kitchen?
I move to the bedroom where I remove my wet clothes, putting them in the hamper, hanging my cut on a hanger and on the shower rod, and then drying off and changing into some sweats. No shirt needed since, after dinner, I will watch some television before going to bed.
We move through dinner like every other night; only, she barely speaks to me and never makes eye contact. I don’t know what is worse: if she went bat shit crazy on my ass or this quiet acceptance.
The kids go to bed … along with my wife. Mariella wasn’t feeling well, so Jenna decided to lie with her until she falls asleep, but sleeping alongside her now is Vida.
What is happening to us?
Is there even an us left?
Frustration builds, leaving me tossing and turning all night. Morning comes and Jenna is in the kitchen, making breakfast for the kids like every other day. I fight the urge to throw my fist into a cabinet. Every day, it’s the same damn thing, and she has settled into it. She’s okay with losing ourselves to the suburban dream. Where is the passion? Where is the heat?
Where is the life between us?
Rather than taking off for work right after breakfast, I stick around to talk to Jenna. I won’t start something between us in front of our children. They haven’t had to experience us argue, and they damn sure won’t start now.
She gets the kids on the bus then comes home to find me still here. The surprise is in her eyes; but otherwise, she moves about her business as if I’m not even here.
When did it become okay to treat me like a roommate?
“Vida,” I call out to her, and she turns to me while braiding her hair for work.
“Yes, dear.” Her reply is cold.
“Yes, dear?” I smirk.
Patiently, she retorts, “Ruby, I have to get ready for work. I don’t have time to fight with you.”
Cockiness builds. “You got time to suck my dick?”
I was sure that would get a hair brush thrown at me, something. No, somewhere, the crazy reactions I have grown to get off on have disappeared.
“First, you must give in order to receive, and neither of us have the time for that. Go yank one out in the bathroom if it’s that bad.” She walks into the bedroom then comes out, carrying her shoes.
I’m angry. I’m lost. So I make a bad situation worse. That’s what men do, my mom always said.
“I’ll just grab a barfly and have her take care of what my wife won’t.” I grab my helmet and go to the front door.
Tossing a glance over my shoulder, I can see the pain in my wife’s eyes as they gloss over in unshed tears.
She swallows hard. “If that’s what you want, handle it. Just know what it’ll cost you.”
Walking out, I don’t know the woman in my house. Hell, if another chick had looked at me twice, she would have gone crazy in the past.
“I’ll cut a bitch, Ruben Castillo. You tell me how you don’t share; well, I don’t, either. You better tell that puta I’ll slice her like she was on the wrong end of a drug deal with Los Zetas.”
“Vida, I fucked her twice … before you.” I kiss her hard then pull away when she gives in to me. “It’s you. She’s got nothing on you. I’m yours,” I say, smiling.
It makes me feel good that she wants to fight for what’s hers. It’s how it goes when you are in the gang life. She watched it with all the boys growing up. You have to fight for everything: territory, your man or your woman, your family, your gang, everything. Every day is a battle. My woman wasn’t afraid of any of it as long as she had me.
Now, she’s almost daring me to step out.
My phone pings with a text from Vida before I climb on my bike. I’m surprised as I read when I don’t find her cussing me out or threatening to change the locks.
You’re on your own for dinner. I’m taking the kids clothes shopping.
Oh, no, it’s not going down like this.
I type my reply and hit send. Name the time and the first store. I’ll meet you there.
I provide for my kids. If they need clothes, I’m going to handle it. She knows th
is.
Putting my phone away, I crank my bike and take off for work.
I am drowning. I wish Julio were here to beat the shit out of Ruben for me. If he lets a barfly even touch him, I’m out. I do not have the time, patience, or energy to deal with this. We are married. This is supposed to be the time in my life when we are settled and we have trust and a life together.
Why is it all crumbling around me?
The day passes in a blur of me working while my mind fights my anger with Ruben.
Picking up our kids from Pam’s, I meet Ruben at the mall to go shopping. It’s easier with two girls and a boy to go to the mall where we can find shoe stores and clothing for all of them as well as dinner in one place.
“Pretzels,” Maritza cries out as we pass the stand.
Mariella pushes her sister. “No, the stuffed cookies.”
My frustration grows. “Enough. We will have dinner before we have anything.”
Ruben leads us to a Chinese stand where RJ starts to whine about wanting pizza. Taking my son by the hand, I guide the children across the way to the pizza line at the mall food court.
“Must you give them everything they want?” Ruben chastises me in line.
I blow out a frustrated breath and move up to place our order, ignoring him. Pick your battles; that’s my attitude. We have a night of shopping ahead of us, so why fight the food when I’m sure we will fight the clothing choices and the colors and shoes? When it comes time for the shoes that is a war in itself to find the right fit plus the look. It means trial and error of one pair after the next.
We eat silently as Ruby watches me. It’s like he’s looking for something, but I can’t figure out what.
The girls’ shopping is relatively easy. RJ needs new running shoes for school. Does he want running shoes? No. He wants boots like his dad’s.
There was a time when I adored the way my son idolizes his father. Everything for Ruben Jr. has to be just like his dad. In this moment, though, with all the turmoil around us, it’s hell. I need him to want shoes for recess and physical education class, not to ride on the back of his dad’s bike.
I get that Colt, Wesson, and RJ have aspirations to be the next generation of Hellions. I’m good with it. The Hellions are a good club. They are the family Ruben and I never really had. Right now, however, I just wish RJ would be a little easier going about the shoes.
“RJ, you have to have running shoes. Boots are not allowed in gym class.”
“So why can’t I have both?” my son asks as if this is the answer to all the world’s problems.
“We have to budget, hijo. We can’t just buy you boots when you don’t need them and you need tennis shoes.”
“Give the boy both,” Ruben pipes up.
I turn and glare. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”
When RJ grabs the box and heads to the register, Ruben pays without even giving me a second glance. In this moment, I feel like I’m losing control of everything.
After getting a few new clothes for the girls, we can finally leave.
Arriving home, I am exhausted. I go through the motions of getting the kids to bed and send up a silent thank you that tomorrow is Friday and we will have the weekend to relax at home. Ruben has a transport coming up for the club and leaves for the weekend.
Maybe the space is what we need.
Once the kids are in bed, I finally get to climb in my own.
“Gonna give your man some love before he leaves?” Ruben whispers into the space between us.
“I didn’t even make it into bed, and you’re already worried about your dick. Seriously, if you want love, do something to earn it.”
“There you go, Vida, trying to use the pussy power play. Fuck that and fuck you, too.”
Sitting up in the bed, I turn to face him. The light on the nightstand is on, showing me the cold features in his hard stare. I look at him. I stare, searching deeply. Where is the man I fell in love with?
There is a saying, don’t ask a question you aren’t prepared for the answer to. This is advice I should listen to. The nagging voice in the back of my head has been telling me to tamp down on what I’m feeling. I need to fight against the disconnect, but I don’t.
“Ruben, what are we doing?”
“Not taking care of each other,” he fires back quickly, too quickly. Things are on his mind, as well.
“Why?” I ask calmly. Somehow, even as I feel everything crashing around me, I find this strange calm in facing the unknowns that have been plaguing me.
He shakes his head. “We lost it.”
Tears fill my eyes and begin to fall. The words tumble out before I can stop them. “Do you love me, Ruben? Like, really love me? Not just as the mother of your children, but are you in love with me, Jenna Mariella Natera de Castillo?”
He hesitates, and in this moment, my entire world crashes around me. The train is barreling down the tracks to run me over, and I’m helpless to do anything except lie here and endure the pain.
It’s funny how saying nothing is sometimes more of an answer than speaking. That is, until he speaks, and what I thought couldn’t possibly get any worse does.
“You are the mother of my children…”
Oh, no, no, no, this isn’t happening. He’s not going to try to explain this away.
I hide my eyes and fight the tears, swallowing the sobs that want to escape.
“I will always love you, Jenna. In this moment, you asked, and I’m man enough to answer.”
Again, he pauses, and all hope of fixing what’s broken between us is gone. I know what he’s going to say before he utters the words, but it doesn’t make them hurt any less.
“I am not in love with you.”
Set Free
In pain comes healing. Sure, this hurts, but in the end, we will come out stronger for it. Maybe, now that she knows, we can find where we lost it all and rebuild.
I look to my wife and what I see cuts me deeply without her even touching me. I held the knife, and I stabbed us both figuratively.
The woman I thought would fight to the bitter end for our family is dead inside. In an instant, I did that. I said what I feel as a way to start over, doesn’t she see? I don’t want anyone else, but no, I’m not in love the way we once were. The relief in telling her makes me want nothing more than to hold her; only, the look in her eyes speaks volumes.
It’s the look of a woman who is crushed, and if I touch her, she’s going to crumble.
The woman I married was strong. Nothing could break her. Come on, Vida; find her again.
I extend my hand to her, and she looks at it like I’m a snake ready to strike.
I think I made a bad situation worse. We have always said, if asked a straightforward question, we would not hold back from one another. She asked the question; I was real with my answer.
Taking her pillow, she moves from our bed. “I need space,” she whispers to the wall, unable to look at me.
“I understand.”
She pauses at the door to our room. “I don’t think you do. I’ll sleep on the couch. Have a safe run, Ruben.”
Silence, darkness. She leaves me alone in our bed, the one we have made love in more times than I can count, the bed we made babies in. Now, it is the bed we lost it all in.
I lean back against the wall. What have I done?
Part of me thinks I should go out there and take it all back. The other half of me is so desperate for something to change I remain in place.
The night passes with me tossing and turning, still unresolved about my marriage and my life as a whole.
Is this a mid-life crisis? There are all the jokes of men going out and buying corvettes and motorcycles. Well, I don’t need a fast car, and I have every bit of happiness in my steel horse.
The ping of my phone reminds me I have a bag to pack and a transport to ride along on. Therefore, I grab a quick shower then toss clothing in a duffle bag, and I’m ready to go.
Walking out, I
am surprised to find Vida up and in the kitchen. It’s early … too early. Did she sleep at all? She has to work today. I don’t want her to be tired and then have the kids by herself tonight. Making a mental note to call Boomer to check on her later, I move to the living room and put on my boots.
She doesn’t speak, doesn’t leave the kitchen. She continues about her tasks as if I’m not even here.
Standing, I go to her, and she doesn’t move. She faces the wall with a half-made sandwich on the counter in front of her.
I stand behind her, holding her hips, and inhale, taking in the fruity scent of her shampoo. “Vida,” I whisper. My chest aches at the pet name I have called her for so long.
From the first kiss, the first moment we shared as more than friends, she changed everything for me. She woke up something inside of me I never knew I could feel.
Suddenly, the girl in my arms isn’t Julio’s sister. Jenna is a woman, a beautiful woman.
As she looks up at me, licking her lips, they call to me. I drop my head and brush my lips to hers. My heart beats faster as her mouth opens, and I seek entrance she willingly gives. Her tongue touches mine, and I see white, I feel heat. There is a hunger inside me that I have never felt before. I pull away and look into her eyes.
“Vida.” I brush my lips to hers. “You give me life, Jenna.”
I never felt anything before her. I was numb, simply existing, going through the motions. It’s funny how things seem to come full circle. Somehow, I lost my wife, my Vida.
I grip her more tightly, wishing I could go back in time and figure out where it all went wrong. However, my phone pings, and there is no time. Tank is waiting, and I have a job to do.
I kiss the back of her head since she won’t turn around. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Be safe, Ruben.” Pain is laced in each word as I sense her fighting back her own emotions.
I push away and head to the door, and my hand is on the knob when she speaks again.
Heated Ride: Hellions Motorcycle Club (The Hellions Ride Series Book 7) Page 5
