Family. Stability. A love that actually lasts.
I never had that with my own parents. The Diaz family is the closest I have ever come to something remotely similar.
Leo looks up when he hears the truck door close behind me. “Well, shit. You look like hell.”
“Feel worse,” I mutter, stepping closer towards them.
He squints. “You drunk?”
“No.” Leo lifts a brow, not fully convinced. “Just… restless,” I add.
He shifts Mia to the other hip. “What’s up, man?”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “I need your help.”
He studies me for a moment, a suspicious look taking over his face. “With?”
“The yellow house. I want to help fix up a few things.”
Leo stills. “You serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“Why?” He asks bluntly.
Taking a step closer, I fumble with some lint in my jacket pockets to keep my hands from fidgeting as I speak. “Because she shouldn’t have to fix that place up alone. She deserves something solid to come home to. I can’t fix everything, but I can help fix this.”
He tilts his head. “You think you can earn your way back in her life with elbow grease and a paintbrush?”
“No,” I admit. “But it’s a start.”
He eyes me carefully, his expression a mix of concern and slight amusement. “You love her?”
A simple “Yes” is all I say in return.
Leo sighs, looking down at his daughter. She’s got paint on her nose, completely content in her own little world of chaos.
“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you. Slowly.”
“Fair enough.”
He nods in response. “Alright. Let’s get to work.”
Over the next week,we pour everything we’ve got into that old, yellow house.
We clear out the overgrown front yard and backyard. We fix the broken porch steps and repaint the front door the same soft yellow it has always been. I know Emma loves the color, even if she used to pretend she didn’t when we were kids, teasing her mom about it looking like a giant lemon.
Leo shows me how to patch up the places where the siding is falling apart. I replace rusted hinges, install new light fixtures, and scrub years of grime from the wooden floors. We even install a brand new clawfoot tub, the same one she mentioned wanting, claiming that stand up showers were exhausting and she just wanted to relax.
Some days, Leo brings Mia to the house. She sits in the middle of the living room with coloring books while we tear apart and rebuild everything around her.
It’s brutal, exhausting work, but it doesn’t faze me. I sleep better those nights, because I’m actually doing something meaningful. Because I’m actuallytrying.
And every morning, I still go back to the hospital. Every morning, Cam still doesn't let me in. Every time, those words dig a little deeper inside me, feeling more permanent. And every time, I say the same thing: “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
It’s torture.
I should’ve fought harder all those years ago. Maybe if I had, she wouldn’t have felt like she had to walk away.
