"From the first day, I knew it was you. It was always you. But what about this mess?"
"The plea deal's moving forward. Manslaughter charge if it sticks. My aunt's tangled in another lawsuit that loops my case right into it. Since no firearm was used, they'll push for ten years maximum, maybe seven with good behavior. It's the cleanest exit I can claw out of this hole."
She stares at me across the divide, her eyes sharp and searching, almost like she's weighing every word, every consequence, turning it over in her mind.
"Olivia, I won't ask you to wait through this shit. If you meet someone else…"
"Shut the fuck up." Her voice cuts clean, fierce. "I've waited years already. We'll burn that bridge if we ever get to it."
"You sure?" My voice cracks raw, splintering at the edges. I don't deserve her. Never will.
"I've never been more sure. I love you, Raul."
"I love you, Liv."
The words hang in the air between us, simple and true, finally free after years of choking them back. For the first time since the bars slammed shut behind me, something inside my chest loosens. Not all the way, but enough to breathe. Enough to feel human again.
I stare at her, her face still streaked with tears but glowing now, fierce and unbroken. Telling her was like lancing a wound that's been festering since the day we met. All those nights I pushed her away, convinced myself she deserved better thanmy poison, my chaos. The guilt that's been rotting me from the inside starts to lift, slow at first, like fog burning off under the sun. Regret still lingers. The sharp edges of every cruel word I spat, every time I made her feel like nothing. But it doesn't crush me anymore. Not with her here, choosing me anyway.
I finally said it. Out loud. No more hiding behind "just friends" bullshit or half-truths about the life I dragged her toward. She knows everything now, or she will once that letter hits her hands. The cartel ties, the hits, the storage units full of shadows. And she's still sitting there, loving me through it. That hits harder than any plea deal, any sentence. It's redemption I never earned, but fuck if I won't spend every day of these seven to ten years making it right.
For once, the chains feel lighter. The future doesn't look like a grave.
CHAPTER 28
RAUL
…8 years later
Today's the day. The eight years dragged on far longer than I ever imagined, endless delays from appeals and bureaucratic bullshit piling up until I was convinced those concrete walls would swallow me alive and never spit out the bones. Prison carved me hollow at first, stripping sixty pounds of soft bulk until I was raw angles and sinew, rebuilt through punishing workouts in the yard, nights of fractured sleep haunted by what-ifs, and journals crammed with regrets that clawed at me like living things, etching permanent shadows under my eyes. But now freedom tastes real. I ache for a home-cooked Cuban spread, arroz con pollo steaming hot, the kind Aunt Val used to make before everything went to hell.
My 30th birthday came and went behind bars, but it wasn't the nightmare it could have been. Olivia and the family showed up full force, their love cutting through the gray. They're all here now too, waiting just beyond the gates as the buzzer signals my release.
Dad stands tall among them, sober three years running. The lifestyle's poison finally flushed from his system after watching it nearly bury me. He looks sharp, healthy, the lines around his eyes softer. Almost peaceful. A new tattoo covers his right arm — a portrait of Mom, her smile captured forever in vivid detail. No more numbing the grief with bottles or business; facing it head-on changed him.
Aunt Val's thriving too. That lawsuit payout let her breathe for once. Her frame's filled out healthy, no more hollow cheeks from the grind and pain. She's clutching a Tupperware of food, and I can't help but hope it's her empanadas. Her grip's steady from physical therapy three times a week. She's focused on sticking around to witness it all.
Diego and Harvee eloped quietly six years back, holding off the big wedding bash just for me. Their toddler Lincoln perches on Harvee's hip now. His dark curls are a wild mop, framing eyes full of mischief. He's the spitting image of little DJ at that age, adventure sparking wild. They've carved something solid from the wreckage.
And Olivia. Fuck. Time hasn't touched her. Timeless, breathtaking, curves poured into jeans that hug like sin. Her dark red hair has warmed to auburn over the years, experimenting with shades that catch the light just right. Each new color becomes my favorite on sight. Every freckle scattered across her skin pulls me in like stars. I can't wait to get her alone tonight, feel her under my hands without glass or guards between us.
She has no clue yet, but I'm proposing tonight.
We're kicking off with family dinner at that upscale spot perched over the bay. Crisp linen tablecloths under candlelight, waves lapping below like a private soundtrack.
Harvee and Olivia grew inseparable over the years. They bonded like blood sisters through shared scars.
Diego and Harvee made pulling the proposal off seamless. Harvee played it sly and borrowed some of Olivia's jewelry to nail the ring size without a whisper of suspicion. Diego hauled thick catalogs during visits and flipped pages until my eyes locked on the perfect one for her.
The ring features a 2-carat solitaire emerald-cut diamond, set on a delicate rose gold band twisted with tiny accents. He scooped it up under the radar and stashed it in his safe in preparation for tonight.
Everyone I love is gathered close, front row to the moment she says yes, and somehow every piece of this has fallen into place exactly the way it was supposed to. It feels impossible and inevitable at the same time, like the entire last stretch of my life has been bending toward this single night.
After freshening up in the restaurant bathroom, I stop in front of the mirror and adjust my dress shirt, smoothing the fabric over my chest.
For a second, I barely recognize the man staring back at me. He's not the scared little boy who used to flinch away from every chance at something better. He's not the version of me that thought he had to stay small to stay safe. This man looks like someone who's lived through the fire and come out the other side with scars, yes, but also with the right to want more.
The truth lands hard and clean in my chest.
