Chapter 8 Andrew

Rafael ended the call, unhappiness carved into his expression as he made his way back to the table. Andrew's heart sank.

"It was Gabriella. She wants to stay with me," Rafael said as he seated himself across from Andrew. Frustration was written all over his face. "My parents…they don't understand her, and now she's caught in the middle of this mess."

Andrew reached across the table, offering a supportive squeeze to Rafael's hand. "We'll figure this out," he assured him, though he wasn't at all sure how. Andrew was saddened hearing of Gabriella's suffering because of her parents' disapproval of the job he had given her.

"She's already at my house, so I need to get back." The sadness and disappointment in Rafael's voice were unmistakable.

"You're her big brother and she needs you right now. I'm disappointed, but I understand. I wanted her new job to give her some freedom."

"Hey, this isn't your fault. She needed a job and like you said, there's not much in Foggy Basin. She doesn't have a car, so she was stuck."

"I just feel bad for her."

"Let's get out of here. I'll drop you where you parked, so she doesn't see you."

Andrew nodded. There were no words to describe how disappointed he was.

The streetlights cast an orange glow on Rafael's Jeep as Andrew fumbled with his seat belt. The silence stretching between them was heavier than the summer air. Disappointment gnawed at him. He'd looked forward to spending time alone in the motel, a chance to finally get to know Rafael outside the bustling chaos of the diner and the confines of Foggy Basin. Now, their night was ending abruptly, thanks to Gabriella's tearful phone call.

"I'm so sorry about this," Rafael finally said, his voice full of apology. "She has never asked to stay overnight before. She's really upset, and I can't leave her alone right now."

Andrew forced a smile. "Don't worry about it. Family first, always." The words felt hollow. He'd hoped tonight might be the start of something real, something beyond stolen glances over steaming mugs of coffee.

Rafael sighed. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. How about we reschedule for next weekend? No family drama, just us."

Andrew wanted to believe him, to hold on to that fragile sliver of hope. But a part of him, the part that had grown wary after years of failed connections, remained skeptical. "Maybe," he said, the word hanging in the air.

Rafael reached out, his hand hovering over Andrew's for a fleeting moment before pulling back. "I'll message you when she's in bed," he said, his gaze intense.

Andrew nodded, saying nothing. As they stopped at his car, he stepped out of the Jeep, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth that had bloomed between them just moments before the phone call. As he prepared to get into his car, he couldn't help but glance back. Rafael was still there, watching him leave. The streetlight glinted off his dark hair, illuminating the uncertainty etched on his face.

Looking away, Andrew climbed into his car. He didn't know if there would be a next weekend, if Rafael's promise was anything more than a courtesy. All he knew was that tonight, the future he'd dared to imagine had vanished, leaving behind a hollow ache in its wake.

When he arrived home, he did a double take, surprised to see his father's gold Mercedes parked in the driveway. He didn't want to have a long discussion about why he'd hired a Duarte. Why else would his father visit for the second day in a row? He supposed it could be worse if he had made a scene in the diner. Then he'd have to deal with Gabriella's feelings.

Andrew pushed open the back door, the screen whining against its frame. He was beat. The date, though cut short, had been promising, and all he wanted was a cold beer and Joe's easy company. Andrew felt a prickle of unease crawl up his back. He knew that silence in this house meant an argument was on its way.

Inside the kitchen, the scene was as tense as he'd feared. His mother sat at the table; a half-eaten bowl of chocolate ice cream pushed to the side. Joe leaned back in his chair; his cell phone abandoned on his lap.

His father sat ramrod straight in a stiff-backed dining chair, anger growing in his blue eyes. Andrew could practically feel the low pressure that produced storms emanating from him. Miss Amelia, that nosy old bat, had wasted no time spreading her venomous gossip. Andrew braced himself for the fallout.

"Andrew—" his mother started. His father didn't wait for her to finish or for him to respond.

"You hired a Duarte?" he boomed, his voice vibrating in the small kitchen. His mother flinched, her hand hovering over her untouched tea.

Andrew flinched. Here we go. The Duarte-Star feud was as old as dirt in their small town. The disappointment from the date was evaporating. "Yeah, Dad. We needed help, and Gabriella seemed perfect."

"Perfect? A Duarte? You know the history!" his father roared, slamming his fist on the table. A glass of water jumped, sloshing onto the ceramic tiles.

"History doesn't matter," Joe muttered, breaking his silence. "Gabriella did a good job organizing a church event for orphans in Mexico. You can't deny that."

"This isn't about her work for her cult church, Joe!" his father bellowed, his face turning a dangerous shade of red. "It's about principle. Those Duartes…"

His mother spoke up, her voice firm but laced with worry. "David, please calm down."

"She helped us out and everyone at the diner loves her," Andrew added.

"Helped you out?" his father roared again, his voice cracking with fury. "She's a Duarte! She didn't just help today. You hired her. Don't you dare lie to me, Andrew!" He moved to the counter where Andrew stood.

Andrew took a deep breath. "Dad, can we just talk about this calmly? Gabriella isn't responsible for something that happened generations ago."

A vase on the windowsill toppled over with a crash, his father having knocked it off balance on purpose. His mother gasped, jumping in her seat.

"Calmly?" his father mocked, his voice a chilling, low growl. "This is about family, Andrew. You choose some Duarte over your own blood?"

Andrew felt a cold anger rise within him. "You're being ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous? This is what you choose? We raised you better than this." His mother's voice, though quieter, held a sharp edge.

Andrew opened his mouth to counter, frustration bubbling over, but Joe cut in.

"Look, this is getting us nowhere. Let's all just…cool down."

Andrew shot Joe a grateful look. His brother was always the voice of reason in their family's disagreements. But even Joe's usually calming presence couldn't penetrate the thick tension.

His father was not appeased. He walked over to the table and slammed his fist down in front of where Joe was sitting, sending Joe's Coke crashing across the worn linoleum. "Don't you take his side, Joseph! Don't you forget the Duartes stole our land, our livelihood! They're not to be trusted!"

"And we got it back," Andrew said.

His father moved away from the table and shoved Andrew against the wall. "You're nothing but a damn traitor to this family!"

Andrew flinched, his stomach churning. This was escalating way too fast. Joe jumped out of his chair and stood between them.

"That's enough, Dad. Leave Andrew alone. He made the right decision."

"Dad, please," Andrew pleaded. "It's 2024, not 1824. Can't we just move on?"

His father pushed Joe out of his way and sat down again.

His mother, tears welling in her eyes, reached across the table and grasped his father's hand. "David, please," she said, her voice cracking.

His father glared at her, then turned back to Andrew, his face a mask of fury. "This stops now, Andrew. You either fire that Duarte girl, or you don't get to see your family anymore. It's that simple." His father stood up again.

The ultimatum hung heavy in the air, and it was suffocating. Andrew felt his anger rise again, hotter this time. But before he could respond, his father knocked over his chair with a crash.

"Come on, Laura," he growled, his voice tight. "We're leaving."

His parents marched out of the kitchen, their footsteps echoing through the house. Andrew sank into a chair, the weight of their disapproval pressing down on him. He looked at Joe, who shrugged helplessly, a sympathetic glint in his eyes.

Andrew ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling over. He couldn't believe it had come to this over hiring Gabriella. Lose his family? It was the twenty-first century, for crying out loud. This whole feud was ridiculous. But he also knew his father. This wasn't just about Gabriella. This was about control, about tradition. And Andrew had a feeling this fight was far from over. What would it be like if his parents knew he had dated a Duarte?

Joe got up and grabbed two bottles of beer. "Want to get some air?" He handed one to Andrew.

Andrew fought back his tears and nodded. While they sat outside, he got a phone call and when he pulled his phone from his pocket, he saw it was Cedric, his roommate from the University of Southern California.

"Hey, man. Up for a drink?" Cedric asked.

"Always," Andrew said.