Island Affair (Keys to Love #1)(97)

The moment Luis’s footsteps hit the wooden deck at the foot of the back stairs, his brother called out, “Oye, Papi, I don’t see—”

Enrique broke off when he glanced back to find Luis, not their dad, behind him. He frowned at Luis’s chin jut of a hello.

“Mami and Papi are finishing breakfast.” Enrique gestured toward the house with the fishing poles, then continued moving to Papi’s pride and joy.

The Salvación, Papi’s older-model Everglades fishing boat, had witnessed countless significant Navarro familia moments over the years. Luis and his brothers learning to navigate the channels in search of the best fishing and dive spots. José and Ramón reeling in their first fish. Carlos proposing to Gina at sunset the day after high school graduation.

Like its name implied, the 24-footer had also offered many of them salvation in the form of time spent soaking up the serenity of the water after a tough shift at the station. Now Luis hoped the old fishing boat could help him salvage his relationship with his brother.

“I’m not looking for Mami or Papi. I came to talk to you.”

Enrique’s boat shoes squeaked on the fiberglass deck as he climbed aboard the Salvación and stepped to set the gear by the center console. “I’m a little busy. We want to get out on the water before an afternoon storm rolls in.”

“This won’t take long.”

“Look, I had a crappy shift.” Enrique spun to face him. Tired lines bracketed his mouth. Dark shadows half-mooned under his hollowed-out eyes. “We lost a fifteen-year-old. Kid overdosed on fentanyl after his girlfriend broke up with him.”

Co?o. Luis grimaced, empathy burning in his chest. It was never easy losing a victim. But when the call involved a kid, that stuck with you. Long after your shift was over.

“Lo siento.” Condolences rarely helped, but Luis uttered the words out of respect for his brother’s obvious distress.

Enrique shrugged off the sentiment.

Like every Navarro, Luis knew his brother prided himself on believing the invisible Teflon body armor they mentally strapped on at the station made them invincible. Without it, or the ability to compartmentalize when shit went bad, no firefighter lasted very long on the job.

Or they wound up getting put on forced time off.

Luis winced, reminded of his own culpability in his current predicament.

“It is what it is. I’m fine.” Enrique’s dull voice was drowned out by the grating noise as he slid a blue and white chest cooler into the far corner of the boat’s stern. Then he bent to peer at the engine nearby.

Luis recognized his brother’s game. After a tough shift, keeping busy, especially with mundane activities, helped dull the troubling images, sounds, and smells that were hard to forget.

“Did the chaplain stop by the station this morning?” Luis asked. Not that he had availed himself of those services too often over the years.

“I bugged out before he showed up. I’m good, just feel for the kid’s parents. It was senseless. Avoidable. Same as that college girl texting while driving a couple weeks ago.”

“Same as Mirna.”

Busy inspecting the bait prep area, his brother froze at Luis’s calm mention of his ex’s seldom-spoken name. Chiseled jaw stiff, lips a thinly pressed line of stark anger, his brother straightened and faced him. A small shake of Enrique’s head warned Luis that his brother edged closer to the fighting line. Luis knew exactly how that felt. He’d toed that line for years.

It drained a man. Made him lash out at the wrong people. Like the woman he loved.

One hand outstretched in entreaty, Luis stepped toward the Salvación. “I don’t want to argue. Or rehash the past.”

Enrique’s body stiffened. His fists tightened at his sides, but he remained silent.

“Mistakes were made on all sides. Including mine,” Luis admitted. He scraped a trembling hand over his head, gripping his nape as the truth finally broke free. “Mostly Mirna’s. But I should have caught the signs. Part of me knew something was off.”

Antsy and uncomfortable under his brother’s sharp scrutiny, Luis paced along the edge of the concrete seawall, his gaze drawn to the Gulf at the end of the canal. He’d spent innumerable hours out there seeking solace. Sara had taught him he had to work for it. Peace of mind and heart wouldn’t magically find him.

“I wanted to think I could save her from her messed-up life,” Luis went on. “But ultimately, I couldn’t save her from herself.”

“Or my spiteful threats that day.” Enrique’s gravelly admission drew Luis back to the boat.

Regret battled pain in Enrique’s dark eyes. “My bitterness, mostly aimed at another woman who wasn’t even there that day, pushed Mirna too far. I’ll live with that responsibility, that guilt, for the rest of my life.”

“Mirna made her own decisions. Good or bad. That’s on her.”

Enrique’s harsh scoff frightened the neighbor’s tabby sunning itself on the ledge separating the two seawalls. “And yet you easily forgave her. But not me.”

Shame soured Luis’s stomach. “That’s the problem. I didn’t, couldn’t, forgive any of us. Especially her, though I gave Mirna the words before she died. I couldn’t forget her betrayal. And it was easier to be mad at you than admit my own shortcomings. That kept me rooted in the past. Until . . . until now.”