They never felt complete.
Not to me.
Pedro finally speaks. His voice is quiet. Controlled. But I can hear the emotion underneath.
"Carlos's right. About all of it."
I turn to look at him, surprised. Pedro doesn't usually get involved in emotional discussions.
"She never belonged with Callum," he continues. "We didn't want to rock the boat." He uncrosses his arms and shoves his hands in his pockets. "I'm a doctor. I'm trained to see things other people miss. And I saw the way she looked at him sometimes. Not like a woman in love. Like a woman waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"So what do you want me to do?" I ask, and I hate how helpless I sound. "March over there and tell her we've been in love with her for years? Destroy our friendship with Callum? Start a war? I'm trying to do the right thing here. Help me out, because I don't know what the right thing is anymore."
"No." Nacho stands up from the chair. Moves to stand beside me. "We stay away. For now. We give her space to figure out what she needs. And we give Callum a chance to explain himself."
"And if his explanation isn't good enough?" Carlos asks.
Nacho's jaw tightens. "Then we'll deal with that when it happens."
It's the right answer. But it feels like giving up. I look around the room at my brothers.
"Okay," I say softly. "We stay away. We don't contact her. We don't go to her mom’s house. We give her space." I swallow hard. "But if she needs help. If she reaches out. If something happens and she's in danger... all bets are off. Okay? I can't just abandon her. I can't."
Carlos nods, relief crossing his face.
Pedro nods too, stiff but understanding.
Nacho watches me with that knowing look of his. The one that says he can see right through everything to the mess underneath.
"Meeting adjourned," I say quietly. "I need a minute."
I head for the stairs, and this time my legs are shaking. Every step takes me further from the conversation but not from the thoughts circling in my head.
Jessica's back.
She ran from her wedding.
She's in Largo Waters, probably crying, probably scared, probably wondering what the hell she's going to do next.
And I'm supposed to stay away.
I make it to my room and close the door. Lean against it. Let out the breath I've been holding.
My phone buzzes. Another text.
From my mama: Sergio, I know you boys were close with Jessica before she left. That poor girl looked absolutely devastated. Someone should check on her.
I stare at the message for a long time, and I feel tears burning in my eyes.
Then I turn off my phone and head for the shower.
The water is scalding. Hot enough to burn. I stand under it and let myself fall apart where no one can see.
I remember the Fourth of July barbecue the summer before she left. She'd been wearing cutoff denim shorts that hugged her hips and a tank top that showed off her curves. All soft stomach and thick thighs and full breasts that I tried so hard not to stare at. She'd challenged me to a hockey bet and won, laughing that bright, genuine laugh that made my alpha sit up and take notice. Made me want to pick her up and spin her around. Made me want to kiss her.
I remember watching her play with the kids at the town fair, patient and kind, her curvy body moving with an easy grace as she lifted them onto the carousel horses. The way Callum had made some comment about her "letting herself go" and I'd had to walk away before I said something I'd regret. She wasn't letting herself go. She was perfect. Full and lush and soft in all the right places. Beautiful.
She stared at Carlos when he talked about his carpentry projects, her hazel eyes bright with interest. The way she'd fall asleep during movie nights, her head on Nacho's shoulder, her legs tucked under her, completely at ease. The way she'd ask Pedro about his cases at the clinic, genuinely caring about the answers.
