The words hang heavy between us, and I shake my head, not understanding.
“Sebastián told me a long time ago that Warwick’s jaw needed to be reconstructed because his father broke it too many times. It cut short his military career.”
Inhaling quickly, I feel dizzy and sick all at once. Joaquin tightens his grip on me, and my brain serves up relief that the damn glue worked, and we didn’t have to force the issue.
“He’s been to therapy. He’s put himself back together as much as he possibly can. He just doesn’t want to explain it to people, and that’s valid.”
I nod. “But we’re not just people.”
“I know, cariño. And so does he. When you were getting the glue, I had to stop him from calling to curse out Sebastián. This was so long ago, I’d forgotten I even knew, to be honest. Sebastián was having lunch with me and his mother, and we could tell right away that something bad had happened.”
“Having met Ofelia, I can’t imagine Warwick would think she’d let that go without comment.”
“Yeah, that made him put the phone down. Sebastián didn’t want to say anything, but we got it out of him. Prior to Renée’s death, I don’t think I’d ever seen my son cry so hard. He was horrified that a father could do something so terrible to his own flesh and blood.”
I think again about how my first impression of Sparrow was not a very good one. Imagining a younger version of the man bawling his eyes out for Wick’s pain brings tears to my own.
Joaquin continues, his voice breaking on the words, “It’s hard to see Warwick still so self-conscious about the scars. He just…he can’t talk about it.”
“Dammit, Joaquin. I wish we could just love on him and make it all better for him. Why—”
Joaquin pulls back, holding up his hand. “He’s fighting it right now, but did you hear that one question he asked?”
I shake my head, dragging a knuckle under my eyes.
“He said,‘If you two are in a relationship, where does that leave me?’Sounds like—”
“Like he knows he belongs with us.”
Joaquin nods, his eyes wise. “He’s close, Colt. It is hard to see him in pain, but he can taste it. We just have to be patient.”
We kiss, both of us emotional and exhausted. Joaquin takes me by the hand and leads me back to his bed, and we hold on to each other, the acute awareness of his absence like the phantom pain of a missing limb.
20
WARWICK
Breakfast this morning is…fine. I’m not too hungover, and coffee fixes most of the rest of it. Joaquin and Colt look exhausted as they make their way down. I nearly read Sparrow the riot act last night, but Joaquin’s gentle explanation gutted me.
I’d been so flippant when I told Sparrow. He was a young guy, a greenhorn, really, and I don’t think I’d ever seen someone so upset about my pathetic little story.
I’d be a damn liar if I said that watching Joaquin and Colt walk out of Joaquin’s room together doesn’t stoke that jealous ember in my chest, but they’re sweet to me this morning, not even bringing up last night.
They take off, and I stay behind, not yet able to face the day, Joaquin’s words ringing in my ears—to think about the advice Renée would give me at this moment.
What a cruel joke.
Her voice has been silent in my head for weeks now.
Where's my fucking magic letter,Renée?
No response.
Well,fuck you.
Still nothing.
I loved you with everything I had.Everything I was capable of.
