Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(75)

Aw. Don’t hurt my feelings, little dude.

Come on, just come in for a little while . . .

The door slamming shut and locking behind me made me jump. I knew I was in trouble, just like I am now.

Lopez catches me with a kick that sends the air shooting through my lungs in a pained rush. More blows, more kicks, pain pouring out of me, just like it did that day.

Lopez is on me again. He’s not letting go.

And neither did Norman.

Something in me snaps. It’s not rage. It’s not misery. It’s not fear. It’s vengeance.

And I take it all out on Lopez.





CHAPTER 29


Sol



I hurry into my dark house, flicking on the light in the hall, my hands shaking with nervousness. Tonight is Finn’s fight. And, against my better judgment, I’m going to watch. I’m only hoping that the late hour doesn’t mean I already missed it.

The keys make a little clinking sound as I drop them on the tiny end table. I’m glad my father is at work. If he was here, the match would be that much harder to watch.

It’s not that Papi hates Finn, actually that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s more like I’d be proving to him how much I miss Finn.

Papi . . . he’s been asking a lot about Finn lately. But it’s what he told me yesterday morning that really touched my heart. “You lost your smile when you lost that boy,” he said.

I can’t deny that’s true. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep my distance. God, I’m so messed up. In accepting that my mother will never recover, I tore open wounds bred from guilt, sadness, and everything I managed to suppress all those years I lived in denial.

“You’re mourning the loss of your mother,” Mason explained to me during this afternoon’s therapy session (after I admitted there are days I can’t seem to stop crying). “You know she’s gone, and that she’s not coming back . . .”

No, she’s not.

I shrug out of my coat and hang it in our tiny closet, trying not to think about the tears that hard truth brought, or how difficult it was to function in the hours that followed. Acceptance is supposed to be a path toward healing, but that’s not where it feels I’m headed. Everything hurts so much more: my mother’s rapid decline, watching my father say goodbye to the woman he loves, and every ounce of pain I’ve felt being without Finn.

The epiphany Mason helped me realize triggered so much more than just my mother’s loss. It triggered the sense of loss I felt when I walked away from Finn, the man I’m still crazy in love with.

I find the remote beside an old photo of my mother, set to the right of our T.V.. I slump onto our old couch and flick on the tiny flat screen, trying to find Fox Sports One, and not focus too much on the picture of my mother. This is Finn’s moment, so for the time being, I want to keep my mind on him.

I’m sure I’m being masochistic, but I can’t not watch tonight. This match will determine who’ll meet the reigning Lightweight champion and Finn has worked so hard to get here. I know what this can mean for him. Watching is my small way of sharing this moment with him.

My body gives a little bounce when I find the right channel. I don’t see much, just an overhead shot of the octagon before the program cuts to commercial break. My heart sinks a little. I didn’t even get a small glance at Finn. It’s pathetic, I know, but I miss his face.

My phone beeps in my purse, announcing that I have a text. I rummage through it, hoping Finn is performing well. I know he’s not attending counseling, even though Sofia told me his family has urged him to return. That doesn’t stop me from hoping he’ll change his mind, especially now that I’m interning at the center again.

Based on my past work performance, Mason convinced his partners to make it a paid internship. That was generous, especially since it’s the only way I’m making money. Come fall, I’ll need every dollar I can spare to pay for the costs of grad school not covered by my grants and scholarship. Mason, being the awesome boss he is, sweetened the opportunity by providing me with pro bono therapy sessions once a week.

I can’t say these sessions are easy. But I also can’t deny I need them.

I scroll through my messages. One is from Tía, telling me she made tamales and that they’re in the fridge. Three are from my girlfriends, begging me to go out with them tomorrow night, and a few are from Sofia.

It’s the ones from Sofia that hold me in place.

If you’re there please call me.

Are you there? Are you watching?

Call me. Please call me now.

My throat goes strangely dry. I don’t know what’s happened. I only know it’s happened to Finn. I tap the screen to call Sofia when the television cuts back to the fight and I catch my first look at him.

Every inch of his face is swollen and blood is pouring from a gash above his eye. But it’s his stare that makes him unrecognizable. There’s no familiar intensity, no warmth I’ve known so well. He’s angry. Yet there’s something there that goes beyond rage, and Jesus Christ in heaven, the fear it stirs threatens to stop my heart.

“Unbelievable,” the announcer barks as the camera zips to the stupid ring girl lifting the Round 2 card above her head. “Finn O’Brien went from The Walking Dead to the Terminator.”