“Can I share something with you? Something I haven’t shared with anyone else?” he asks.
I frown. What kind of weird-ass time is this for therapy? But I nod.
“I’ve been thinking about going to see my family when we get back. I miss them. I miss the connections we had. I know they feel guilty about what happened and that guilt ate at them and ate at what we had, but it’s been years. Family is important, Jocelyn. It’s the most important thing. And I have one with all of you, but…it doesn’t mean I don’t have a gaping hole in my chest from what I had before.”
He pauses, and I frown.
“Why haven’t you gone to speak to them before?” I ask.
“It’s not that we don’t talk. We do. I see them at Christmas or occasional family events, or if they need me for something, but…it’s just been…” He pauses again as he considers his words. “It’s like my injury is the elephant in the room. Everyone is always thinking about it, and no one wants to talk about it. It got easier to just not talk about it, for me to separate myself from them, so they wouldn’t be constantly reminded,” he explains, and my heart hurts for him.
I take my hand and brush his jaw with my thumb as I cup his face. His eyes close a little at my touch and I don’t know what overcomes me, but I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips.
He stops breathing as our mouths fuse. And then, like a dam fracturing, the kiss becomes wild. His giant hands grip my face. My arms wrap around his neck. Our mouths open, and our tongues explore. The world melts away, and all my senses are filled by Hutchinson Cromwell.
It takes a minute for me to pull myself away. I shove back and we sit staring at each other, breathing hard.
“I…I…shouldn’t have…I don’t know what…I’m sorry,” I manage in between breaths.
He opens his mouth to speak, but a tap at the window has us turning to see a little old woman. A woman who has my eyes and cheekbones. A woman who looks kind and caring. She’s wiping her hands on an apron.
“Hola. Necesitas ayuda?” she asks.
“Uh, no, gracias,” I answer.
“Are you Señora Martinez?” Hutch asks as he looks from her to me.
“Oh, yes, I am,” she says with an accent, her brows knitting together in confusion or surprise or perhaps both.
I open my car door and stand. We’re about the same height. “Do you have a son named Marco Martinez?” I ask.
Her eyes widen, and her hand flies to her mouth. “Dios mio! It can’t be,” she says as tears well in her eyes.
I feel tears falling down my cheeks. “I’m Jocelyn. Marco’s daughter.”
She pulls me into a tight hug, nearly knocking the air from my lungs. A second later, she pulls back, and a wrinkled hand comes up and pats my cheek.
“You look like him,” she says as a tear escapes her right eye. She shakes her head and takes my hand. “Come in. Come in. I’m calling Natalia.” She turns to me as we walk inside her yard. “Your tia.”
And just like that, I meet my grandmother. Every fear I had vanishes. I look back toward Hutch, and I see tears in his eyes. He smiles through them.
“See. She already loves you,” he mouths.
I nod and turn back. Afraid to let him see that I already love this old woman too. For the first time in my life, I feel at home, complete and whole, except for my missing dad, my life is nearly complete. Oh, and the fact that I just kissed the hell out of my best friend. Holy fuck! I have no idea how to even discuss that with him. I decide not to think about that until after I meet my aunt and cousins.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hutch
I sit and watch Jocelyn get to know her grandmother, aunt, and even her two cousins, who are in high school and arrive home not long after our arrival. She’s at home with them, talking and laughing as if they’ve known each other her whole life. Her grandmother pulls out photo albums; they discuss the family. Jocelyn’s smile is so big, it nearly splits her face. I feel like a voyeur, but she keeps glancing over at me, and I can tell she likes having someone there with her.
Jocelyn learns that an argument over her father attending school in the Midwest caused a rift between him and his parents. His younger sister, Natalia, sided with her parents, and Marco never came back home. His mother blames his pride, but I can tell from her questions that Jocelyn thinks there is more to that story.
After a lovely day with her family, including lunch, I drove us back to the house. The others have spent the day hiking in the nearby rainforest and are all now lounging around the pool, except for Kasen and Piper, who decided to go snorkeling at the beach.
We don’t speak much on the drive. I let her watch the scenery out the window. I’m sure she has a lot to unpack from what just happened. I want to say something, but in the end, I just let the music from my phone fill the silence in the car. I park the car in the driveway and start to get out, but Jocelyn grabs my arm. I glance over at her. Our gazes lock, and I’m suddenly tongue-tied. What do I even say?
“So…we should talk about…you know,” she says, her cheeks turning a dark shade of pink.
