That's all my brain can manage. That's all it can hold onto without falling apart completely. The words sit there on the page, simple and brutal, like they've been waiting for me to admit them.
And maybe that's the truth of it. Not that I'm sorry. Not that I regret everything. Not that I miss her, even though I do.
I need her.
I need her in a way I can't explain without sounding weak, without sounding desperate, without sounding like the kind of man who has nothing left to give except honesty. I need her like air in a room that's been locked too long. Like something I didn't realize I was drowning without until I finally surfaced.
The problem is, need is dangerous. Need makes you selfish. Need makes you say things you can't take back. Need makes you reach for people who already had the good sense to step away.
So I stare at the page, at the one line that tells the truth better than anything else I've managed to write, and I hate how much power it has over me.
Because if I send this, I'm not just admitting I want her.
I'm admitting I've never stopped.
I close the notebook after staring at that line for too long.
I need you.
My chest tightens. Simple. Pathetic. Honest enough to hurt.
I press the heel of my hand into my eye, then shut the notebook like that'll somehow shut the whole feeling down with it. It doesn't. Olivia's name is still there. Her voice is still there. The shape of her absence is still there, sitting in the room with me like something alive.
CHAPTER 14
RAUL
…19 years old
Dad and I have been working almost every day of the week.
Aunt Val was in a car accident a few months after graduation night, and it was the second time I'd seen my father that scared. Almost as scared as he'd been when my mom got sick.
Aunt Val stayed in the hospital for weeks. Diego barely left her side. We practically had to force his smelly ass to shower. So Dad and I stepped up in every other way we could. We picked up every job, every gig, every extra shift. Nothing was off the table.
We make more running with Uncle Ernie's guys, obviously, but sometimes we pick up extra cash doing security for events, bars, and clubs around town. We're always easy choices. Builds like ours make people think twice before testing us. Most nights, that's enough.
Those are my favorite jobs.
Dad and I throw on matching black button-ups, or black shirts with SECURITY printed across the back depending on the event. Half the time, we run into more trouble doing those jobs than we ever did selling drugs. The thought makes me chuckle.
Tonight is no different.
We've been hired for security at a new downtown club called Scarlet. The place is themed head to toe in black and scarlet red.
Dad and I park a ways down the road and walk up together. The sun is still up, but we've been told to arrive early for a walkthrough and to get any extra gear we might need.
We approach the check-in desk side by side.
"Name?" the woman asks us with a warm smile.
"Ernesto and Raul Alvarez," I say flatly.
I appreciate the kindness, but I'm not here to make friends.
"We're cousins," my dad says with a wink.
"Clearly." She laughs.
