Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I clutched my chest as I flew upright in bed. I gasped, needing to breathe. Reaching to the table beside me, I shakily opened the drawer and took out my anxiety pills. I swallowed two dry and tried to calm down. The memory of Garcia in my nightmare still clung to me like a rash.
I raked my hands over my arms, slicing at my skin as if I could somehow scratch him from my mind. I closed my eyes, but his beautiful face was there. I opened my eyes and felt his dark brown ones watching me from across the room, like he always did. The light was on. I could only sleep in the light.
I knew the room was empty, but my mind liked to play tricks on me. He was on the chair in the corner of the room, smoking his Cuban cigar, tequila in hand. He stood, his black suit and silver tie as pristine as I had ever seen them, and moved to me on the bed. I was frozen as he sat down beside me and smiled. “Mi rosa negra,” he purred and kissed me. My eyes clenched closed. When I dared open them again, I was alone in the room.
Fleeing from the bed, I snuck out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. I poured a large glass of water and leaned against the counter. Outside, the sky was turning from black to a dusky pink.
Sunrise.
Keeping silent, I stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind me. I walked to the rail and took a deep breath. When the scent of tobacco hit my nostrils, I snapped my head to the left.
“Sia,” Ky said from the porch swing. He was dressed only in jeans, his long blond hair hanging haphazardly over his bare shoulders. He ran his hands through the strands.
“Ky.” I laid my hand over my chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” He took a sip of the amber liquor in his glass and stared out into the distance.
I sat beside him on the porch swing, wondering what was wrong. I wrapped the blanket from the back of the swing over us both; the night chill had made my bare arms break out in goosebumps. Ky didn’t even seem to notice I had covered him too. Following his gaze, watching the first embers of dawn begin to flare, I asked, “What’s going on, Kyler?”
He didn’t react to my question. When I turned to look at his face, I wasn’t sure there was any fight left in him. It scared me more than anything. Because my brother was a foghorn; he was loud and obnoxious. But right now, he appeared broken.
“You couldn’t sleep either?” he asked, his voice graveled and rough.
“No.” I lowered my eyes to my hands on my lap. “Just the usual shit. Dreams of Garcia. Michelle . . . Of that time.”
Ky took a sip of his drink. We sat in silence for minutes. Just when I believed he wouldn’t speak, he whispered, “She’s pregnant.”
I blinked, unsure I had heard him correctly. My head lifted, and I saw what could only be described as raw pain etched onto his bearded face.
“Ky . . .” I whispered. Knowing he needed it, I reached over and took his empty hand in my own. He tensed, but then held on so tightly to my fingers that it hurt.
It took me a moment to pull myself together. “Is this not a good thing?” I checked no one was around. “She had surgery to make this a reality for you both. It’s a miracle, Ky.”
His head dropped, but I caught a small nod of agreement. “It is,” he said softly. “But she’s high risk.” He turned to me, and I almost broke when I saw a tear fall from his eye and track slowly down his cheek. “We always knew she would be if we ever got pregnant, but now it’s here, I just . . .” Ky gazed back into the distance. I squeezed his hand tighter, letting him know I was still there for him.
“Now that it’s here, she has to rest all the time, take it easy, just so she can have this kid . . .” He shook his head. “It makes the thought of . . .” He took a deep breath. “Losing her—” His voice cracked and his head slumped. Hair hid his face, but I knew tears were falling. Tears fell from my eyes too. In all of my days, in all the time I had spent with my brother, I had never seen him like this. He was always strong, rarely cried. Always covered his emotions with jokes or threats.
“There’s Grace too.” He held tightly to my hand as his began to tremble. “I love that kid to death, but if anything happened to Li . . . I . . . I wouldn’t be any kind of father.” Ky leaned his head back against the swing. His skin was pale and blotchy from crying. His eyes were squeezed tight, as if he could escape all of what he was feeling if he just closed them. I laid my head on his bulky shoulder. “I get it now,” he said. I looked up, unsure what he meant. I met his tormented blue gaze with my own. “Poppa,” he said, and I felt my stomach flip over. “I get why you hated him like you did.”