Chapter 22

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

SANTOS

M y sister and I sit outside the coffee shop at a green metal grate table. We tap our paper cups filled with warm liquid. Waiting is so awkward. This discomfort is doubled when you're waiting for your long-since absent, alcoholic father.

"If he tries anything, I'm punching him out," Santana says. "Just saying." She drinks and I snicker at her facetious tone.

"You'll have to get in line behind me." After taking a sip, I look at my sister. "Thanks for agreeing to this."

"Hey, knowing the shit he pulled at my wedding, he doesn't deserve us." She pats my hand. "But I'd like to talk to him, too. Adult to adult."

In my periphery, a lone figure has my back tensing up. Seeing how sheepish and tired my dad is as he approaches, I relax. His body language screams penitent, so that's a positive.

"Hello, kids. Santana…Santos." He gives us a wave, like we might bite. I'm glad Johnny knocked some fear into him. I shouldn't be happy that Natie's brother assaulted my dad, but he did it to protect everyone else.

"Hi, Dad," I say in a flat tone.

"We already got coffee. Go get some, we'll wait here," Santana says, pointing her thumb to the entrance of the shop.

Dad nods and disappears. Five minutes later, he's back with a drink, and I point to the bench across from us. This is my olive branch.

He drinks for a minute, and we quietly take him in. I interpret his face as an older version of mine, but his hair is lighter. "The coffee is good," Dad mutters.

"It is. How was the drive?" Santana asks.

"No traffic. Nice and uh…easy." The silence between us is deafening. Are we healing yet? "How was your…wedding?"

"It was great. I always wanted an oceanside wedding. We had a blast. It was everything for me." Santana eyes me, and I can tell she's holding back the bitterness.

"How's your head?" I ask.

"The pain is gone." He shrugs and gazes at his drink. "I'm restarting my alcoholic support program."

"Really?" Santana asks.

"Yeah." Dad plays with the rim of his paper cup. "I was part of the program a few years back. I graduated, thinking I had a handle on my…addiction. But hearing that you were getting married, and knowing that your brother was back in town. Something…broke in me. It was like you two were moving on, being happy, well-adjusted adults, and I was left in the dust."

I exchange a concerned look with my sister. Conflict clashes in my chest; he doesn't deserve forgiveness, but this certainly explains a lot, and a tiny seedling of pity grows in my stomach.

"I apologize. For all I said. And for being a shit dad." He looks up at me, then Santana, moisture pooling in his eyes. "I…shattered when your mom died…but I shouldn't have taken it out on you two."

He reaches his hands out, palms up on the table, and I stare at him skeptically. We are not that close yet, and judging by the matching dubious look on my sister's face, she agrees.

"You called me s-s-stupid," I mutter.

Dad flinches like I slapped him, then pulls back his hands. "Again, I'm sorry."

"Is that really what you think of me?"

"Of course not!" Dad replies, shaking his head. "I barely remember that day, and I didn't mean it."

I sigh. "I've struggled with my stutter all my life. And as an ad-d-dult no one calls me out on it. Not my co-workers, not Santana, not my best friend, and c-c-certainly not my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Dad mutters.

"But the first p-p-person to make fun of me for it in years…was you."

Dad sighs and looks back down at his drink. "I'm sorry, Santos. I don't remember―"

"Do you remember throwing bottles at me as a kid?" Santana's eyes water as she recalls the most terrifying part of our lives.

Dad gasps, then pauses and nods. "That was…not okay for me to do."

I nod at Santana, letting years of resentment finally air out. Dad sighs and wipes away a tear. "I apologize. I'm so fucking sorry that I was weak. I'm sorry I wasn't strong like you two."

My heart breaks for him. When I was young, responsibility hardened my soul, knowing I was losing both my parents in different ways. I didn't realize my father also had his struggles.

I've always wanted to hear contrite words from my good-for-nothing dad, but now what do I do? "Someone r-r-really close to me once asked for my forgiveness, and I gave it away freely." I fixate on my nearly empty cup. "But it required a lot of introspection, and I'm not ready to do that for you yet."

Santana nods at me. "Dad, we have to find out what part of our lives we're willing to share with you."

She stands up and I follow. Dad's shoulder slump, shame emanating from his body. "Goodbye, Dad," Santana says.

We take two steps, and Dad stands up. "Okay. Take care of yourselves, kids," he mutters, wiping his eyes.

I take one last look at him and say, "Dad, we'll contact you. For another…coffee date. If we're free."

Dad's eyes light up and he nods quickly. "Alright. Whatever you need, whenever you'd like. I'll be there."

I nod and wave, and Santana gets in the car. I'm proud to say I don't look back in the mirror once while we drive away. It's possible that our relationship can be repaired into something new, but we've all had enough parental bonding for one day.

After dropping my sister off, I drive on autopilot while a million thoughts buzz through my head. I'm so overwhelmed with conflicting emotions about my father that I don't even realize it when I pull into the parking lot in Newlantic. I stride up and knock on the cottage door, my pulse pounding.

Natie looks perplexed when he opens up. "Santos, what are you—?"

I cut him off with a kiss, holding his mouth in place. I needed this. The tumultuous tempest in my heart comes to a standstill when I'm holding Natie Shiba. When he's inside me, kissing me, or I'm simply holding him, my life gains clarity.

I pull off for air and notice Natie's dazed look and red, puffy lips. "Well, hello to you too," he says as he catches his breath.

"I…I don't know what to do about my dad," I mutter with my forehead on his. "But you uplift me, and I could never thank you enough." I cord my hands through his black hair. "So thank you, Natie. For being my rock."

"Santos—"

"Ahem." We turn to see Johnny, standing there, unimpressed, with his arms crossed. Hamadi, Dylan, and Firass have their heads poking out from behind a wall.

"Aww," Dylan coos.

"You guys…" Hamadi says with a grin and a wagging finger.

"Um, Natie, it's your turn," Firass says, exchanging glances with Johnny.

Johnny stares at me skeptically. Oops . Just because he's accepted me doesn't mean he wants to witness our PDA.

"Let's give them space," Hamadi says, pulling Johnny away by his tank top.

"That was dramatic," Firass murmurs.

When they disappear, I hear Dylan remark, "As if you and Johnny are any better…"

We laugh, and he drapes his arms over my shoulders. "Sorry about the peanut gallery over there." He grins against my lips, and I give him a quick peck.

"It's cool. My fault."

"You're always a welcome interruption, sweetheart." He winks and I laugh. How did I get this lucky?

"How do you manage to c-c-calm me down so quickly?"

"It's part of my irresistible charm. A blessing and a curse." He shrugs, and I smile.

I pull him into an embrace and rest my chin on his shoulder. I breathe in his scent, then the next few words slip out, almost silently. "And I love you for it."

Natie stiffens in my arms and tries to pull away. I lock up, afraid that when I see his face, he'll reject me. While we get along great, he may not be ready to say he loves me yet. Stupid Santos, divulging excessive affection when we haven't even been together six months.

"Santos, did you say…?"

"Um…" I finally relinquish my hold, but I don't look at him, opting to stare up instead. His crew is chatting a few yards away, and I hope to heavens they can't hear us. "That's like…an expression…that everyone says sometimes," I mutter, playing with my thumbs.

"I love you, too."

My breath hitches, and I meet his gaze. He looks so sincere, and his eyes pool with a mixture of hope, trepidation, and adoration. I'm sure I reflect those warring emotions.

"Really?"

He snickers. "Yeah. We've been dating and sleeping together most nights. Somewhere between chatting books, going on dates, and waking up with you…" He takes my hands and squeezes them. "I fell hard. So yeah, Santos Hand, I'm in love with you."

An unfamiliar warmth burns across my chest. No words can encapsulate how much Natie Shiba means to me. So instead, I lean in for a kiss, holding his head still. After we pull off for air, I hug him again, just because I can.

"So, now that you've admitted that I'm irresistible and you couldn't help falling for me…" he says on my shoulder. I tickle him, and he squirms while giggling. "How can I help you decompress tonight?"

"Anything." I peel myself from him, then shrug.

"We're playing Aeon's End right now, but afterward, we can talk. Or I can ask Firass to take over my character and we can—"

"No, no." I shake my head. "I don't want to interrupt. Truthfully, sitting next to you and watching you boys play a board game sounds delightful at this moment."

Natie smiles, then wraps his arm around mine. "Then let's go sit together on the couch, Hand."

And so we do. I spend the evening laying my head on Natie's shoulder as the boys play as battle wizards saving the world. Their presence brings me tranquility, and I'm honored I get to call this group of nerds my family now.

I can take on whatever happens in the future. Because Natie loves me, an honor I'll cherish for the rest of my days.