Santiago
Iwas up with the sunrise, mainlining coffee, getting ready to drive to New York. I hadn’t had much sleep, not with Maeve gone, her phone off, and her pictures popping up all over Yael’s Instagram, looking prettier than ever—and drunk. So very drunk. Eyes droopy, cheeks shiny, smile crooked. Some bartender bastard with his arms draped over their shoulders.
I’d texted Yael, desperate, asking her if everything was okay. She texted a picture of her middle finger back.
So…I’d been up all night, trying to figure out how to fix this and spending some time plastering the wall in the kitchen. When I saw her note, the hoodie, the fucking spice cakes, I lost my mind and tried to launch the plate they were on through the nearest wall.
All I got was ruined spice cakes, cracked plaster, and a brother who pretty much demanded to know why I’d gone ballistic.
Diego hadn’t even blinked when I told him Maeve and I were together.
“I knew something was off when we wrote “Eighty Nights.” You were mighty inspired by a girl you barely knew,” he’d said.
“Yeah. There are some things you should know…”
Which had led me to confess every damn thing. The entire summer. My asshole rejection. Making her hate me. Convincing her to trust me again. Getting her to fall in love with me. Losing her.
God, she wouldn’t even tell me I’d lost her.
As I was standing in the kitchen, my front door open, my pops stepped inside. He tucked his key in his pocket, slipped off his work boots, and made his way over to me. I wasn’t too surprised to see him, but I wanted out of this house and on the road.
“Son.” He nodded.
“Hey, Dad. Diego’s sleeping.” I jerked my chin toward the ceiling. Despite all the shit going down, nothing had ever felt better than having my brother back.
Nothing besides falling in love with Maeve O’Day.
“I came to talk to you. Got a call from your brother. He said you’ve got woman trouble.”
Dad helped himself to a cup of coffee, filling it to the brim. “Talk to me.”
I dumped the rest of my coffee in the sink and rinsed out the cup. “I was headed out the door.”
He didn’t budge. Just stared me down. And no matter how old I got, getting stared down by Eli Garza would always be intimidating.
“I’d say you can spare me a few minutes. Haven’t seen you in a couple months.”
“Yeah.” I exhaled, drawing in some patience. “I’d planned on coming by today, but plans got a little screwed up.Igot screwed up.”
“I think Alicia’ll understand if I tell her you’ve gone to get Maeve back. First you have to tell me why you lost her. What’d you do?”
My old man had never minced words in his life.
“I denied her in front of Diego. Dropped her hand. Said she was staying in the guest room.” Guess I didn’t mince words either.
He winced, scowled, gave me a look that said he thought I was a real fuck up. I’d seen that look plenty of times, but not in a decade or so. Couldn’t say I didn’t deserve it.
“You put Diego’s feelings over hers?” he asked.
“You always say family first.” My argument was weak as hell. Even I didn’t believe it.
He set down his coffee, crossing his arms. “Is the band not part of your family? Is the woman you love not part of it? Jesus, Santiago. You don’t hurt one person to spare another’s feelings.”
I rubbed at the ache in my chest that hadn’t abated since the second I’d let go of Maeve’s hand. “But Diego—”
He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Since the day Diego came to live with us, you saw him as your responsibility. Maybe you didn’t trust me to be up for the job, Lord knows I wasn’t up for it with you.”
“He needed more than just you.”