Chapter 4

EMILY

I shouldn’t still feel this affected by him, but there I was, locked in the car at the front of the house, crying and punching the steering wheel.

“Come on, Emily! You’ve got to take control of this,” I shouted to myself and got out of the car, determined to forget it all, to try harder to get my dad out of this town. I’d only been here a few hours; I couldn’t let myself fall apart and cry.

I quickly grabbed the bags from the trunk before any neighbors could come over to talk.

“So it was you who got me off the floor!” my dad’s voice caught my attention as I closed the front door. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to visit, and we need to talk,” I started, trying to sound resolute.

“Don’t give me that. I’m sure Janice opened her big mouth, and that’s the only reason you’re here!” he grumbled, not looking me in the eye once. But I couldn’t blame him when I was doing the same.

“I’m only talking to you after you take a shower and eat something,” I said, holding up the bags to show him. “Real food, not canned or frozen stuff.”

“I don’t need that. You can go back to your little life in the city and leave me here alone!” he shouted at my back as I walked to the kitchen.

This wasn’t going to be easy. He definitely hated me for not coming back home all these years. The last time we properly saw each other was at the end of the year at Fernando’s place. I could never bring myself to return here, not even when Mom passed. I drove straight to the cemetery for the funeral and left as soon as it was over. Even though Marcos didn’t show up at the funeral, the whole situation—Mom’s death and being back in this town—triggered a series of nightmares.

The bedroom door slammed, making me take a deep breath. I’d need to be patient with my dad. How I wished Fernando were here instead of me. He’d know exactly how to handle all of this. After all, he was the perfect son who stayed by our parents’ side the whole time, while I locked myself in my bubble, drowning in work and excuse after excuse.

I started preparing dinner, thinking about how to get my old man out of that room, when the sound of a car in the driveway caught my attention. The news of my return must have already spread, but I hoped it wasn’t someone unwanted—which, frankly, was most of the town.

“Emily? Are you there, sweetheart?” Janice’s sweet voice filled the living room, making me breathe a sigh of relief.

“Here!” I ran to her, throwing myself into her arms.

Janice was like a mother to me. That plump, tall woman had been helping my mom long before I was born, and I knew everything she did was out of love for her.

“Oh, honey, look at you,” she said, pushing me back to look me up and down. “You’re stunning, a real woman now.”

“Thanks. How are things going around here? I see the town’s still the same.”

“Of course not, dear. So much has changed, you wouldn’t even recognize it,” she said, which I found hard to believe. “What’s that smell? Cooking?” she asked, already lifting pot lids to inspect. “Don’t forget his high blood pressure—no heavy salt.”

“Oh, Nice, it’ll be a miracle if I can get him to eat anything at all,” I grumbled. “He barely looked at me and already told me to leave.”

“You’ll manage, girl,” she encouraged, patting my cheeks. “He’s just upset. It’ll pass quickly. Now tell me, how’s work going?”

We talked for hours. Even though Janice was part of the past I wanted to forget, she was also part of my present. All these years, she’d stayed close to our family and knew everything we’d been through.

When Janice left, I had to face reality again. It was time to confront the beast.

“Dad?” I knocked on his door twice, but he didn’t answer. “Dad, dinner’s on the table,” I said, stepping inside. I found him sitting on the bed, staring at the floor with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. “Let’s eat?” He stood, nearly falling back onto the bed but managing to steady himself, looking at me with empty eyes.

My dad, my great hero, had become a broken man who drank himself to the ground every day. Love was one hell of a drug!

He brushed past me before I could help him and stumbled to the kitchen, never letting go of the amber liquid in the bottle. I had to get him out of this town—this couldn’t go on, or he’d end up killing himself!

When he finally managed to sit on the kitchen stool, I waited for him to serve himself, but I regretted it immediately. He reached for the salad, lost what little balance he had, and fell off the stool, hitting his back and head on the floor.

“Dad!” I screamed, rushing to help him. “Are you okay? My God, we should go to the hospital.” He yanked his arms away from my touch and started crawling back, trying to stand.

“Don’t pretend you care!” he roared, startling me. “You weren’t here when she got sick! You didn’t stay by her side!” As he yelled, he grabbed the bowl of rice and threw it across the kitchen. “I don’t need you now! You weren’t here!” he kept shouting, hurling plates, cutlery, and food at the walls.

I cried, sobbing as I watched his outburst, powerless to do anything. My dad needed help, and I couldn’t help him, just like I couldn’t help my mom.

He was right about everything he screamed and said.

When he saw there was nothing left on the table to throw, he stopped and stormed off to lock himself in his room again. I was left to pick up every shard of glass and clean up the mess, tears and pain overwhelming me.

My uncertainty about whether to call Fernando only grew with every passing minute. How could I help someone who hated me? Who despised me, and rightfully so?

I took a long shower, hoping the hot water would help me stop thinking about what a complete disaster the day had been or at least offer some comfort.

But the shower didn’t help. I stared at the guest room walls for a long time, still the same pastel shade as when I left. At least it wasn’t my old room, full of memories and photos.

I threw myself onto the cold sheets, still wrapped in a towel, and squeezed my eyes shut, hoping no memories of the past would haunt me through the night. But the dreams chased me all night long.

**YEARS AGO**

“So, you and Mr. Bad Boy are friends now?” Bete shouted the moment she saw me on Monday. Not even a “good afternoon.”

“Friends? No. He just walked me home. Nothing happened. N.O.T.H.I.N.G,” I spelled out. “He dropped me off and left.”

“God, Emily! Why didn’t you grab him and plant a big kiss on him? I would’ve,” she said. I didn’t doubt she would, but I could never be like her. “How many girls do you think he walks home? Playing the good Samaritan? Come on, Emily!”

“I’d never grab him, for God’s sake. He’d think I was crazy. In fact, he said I’m like his sister,” I grumbled, remembering his words from the night before. “Any hope I had went down the drain there.”

“That was the perfect opening! You just had to say, ‘Your sister wouldn’t do this,’ and bam! Kiss him.” I rolled my eyes at Bete’s nonsense. She really did stuff like that. “That’s it!” she shouted. “You need to get closer to Bianca, and then you’ll get closer to him!”

Of course, Bete’s “brilliant” plan wouldn’t work, but what did I have to lose? And I didn’t lose. I gained an amazing friend. Even though I initially got close to Bianca because of Marcos, things changed.

After so many times of him pretending not to see me or treating me like a kid, I got tired of it. He was gorgeous, but he wasn’t for me. That crush was completely one-sided and would never change. Marcos liked older women! I had to move on, but it was hard.

“Good morning, Emy. Back here so early?” Marcos greeted me, walking into the kitchen that morning.

It was summer, and I couldn’t help but drool over him in that tight white tank top and loose shorts first thing in the morning. But it wasn’t mutual. Despite my equally tight tank top and tiny denim shorts, he didn’t look at me, not for a second.

“Bi and I are heading out,” I said, trying not to sound pathetic drooling over him in his own kitchen. All I got was a raised eyebrow—he was being overprotective again. “We’re going to the lake. Everyone’s gonna be there.”

“I won’t be there,” he commented, grabbing his coffee mug.

Unfortunately, he had to work at the auto shop while everyone else enjoyed the summer, but he spent his nights out of town—everyone knew that.

“It’s not like you’re not enjoying the summer too,” I blurted out without thinking, and even though I said it quietly, he heard me.

“What’s that? You guys gossiping about my life now?” he asked, that smug smile spreading across his face.

Just what I needed—him thinking he was the center of attention.

“It’s not gossip when someone makes a point of showing off the old ladies they’re hanging out with!” I muttered, irritated, exaggerating completely since the girls were only a few years older than him. “How do they manage it, anyway? Are you their pet or something?”

“Playing pet isn’t exactly what we do, but if they want, I’d definitely be up for it!” he exclaimed, laughing.

“Spare me, Marcos!” There went my attempt to act composed and not like a jealous lunatic.

“Come on, Emy, let’s go. See you later, idiot,” Bianca said, rushing out of her room and pulling me outside, saving me once again from making a scene and spilling everything.

“Your brother drives me nuts! He can wipe out all my patience in seconds!” I growled as we walked down the street toward the town center to meet the rest of the group.

“Look, I know you only started talking to me because of Marcos, but he doesn’t give you the time of day, and I don’t want that to ruin our friendship. Guys are idiots, and I don’t want to lose the only friends I have because of my brother,” Bianca confided, laying my feelings for him bare.

“You can bet nothing your brother does will ruin our friendship. I swear,” I promised, crossing my fingers in front of my lips.

Bi, Bete, and I had become inseparable. Nothing in this world would tear the three of us apart!