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“We’re not getting out of the truck.”

He scoffs as he pulls up to the little dilapidated park. “Well, that’s something, I guess. You ready to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“I need a second,” I whisper, closing my eyes. A wave of nausea washes over me and I suck in a breath as I let the memories fill my mind, taking me back to a time in my life that almost killed me. A knot forms in my belly and tears sting my eyes as I let myself fall back into the pain that made me who I am today. Finally, I meet Diego’s gaze. “You still want to know what happened to me?”

He nods. “Yes, but not while you’re over there.”

“Diego, I’m thirty-one weeks pregnant and this cab is not that big. I don’t think I can climb into your lap right now,” I protest and while it might be true, it’s not why I won’t go to him like every cell in my body is begging me to do. I just know if I let him touch me, if I let him hold me, the floodgates will open and I won’t be able to get them shut again until I’ve cried my weight in tears. I promised myself I would be strong through this, that I would put on a brave face and battle my demons with all the courage I pretend to have most days but I’m not sure I’m going to make it.

“Like I give a shit,” he growls, scooting closer to me when he realizes that I’m going to be defiant. When he gets to the middle of the seat, he reaches for me and I know he’s going to try to lift me into his lap so I back away from him and shake my head.

“Please, Diego… I’ll sit next to you but I can’t get through this if you hold me.”

His brows knit together. “Okay, baby.”

“Okay,” I answer, turning in the seat to face him as I suck in a breath. God, I don’t know where to start…

I glance out at the park as the memories bombard me, dragging me down into a well of pain I tend to avoid like the plague.

“Hey,” he whispers, grabbing my hand and lacing his fingers through mine, dragging my gaze back to his. “You can do this.”

I nod, looking down at our hands. “My mom met my dad when she was waitressing at this crappy little diner over in New Orleans. He was a musician and he came in one night with his band after they got done playing a show. Mom said the chemistry between them was explosive and… well, I’m sure you can guess what happened next. He had the whole rock star personality and she said being around him was like staring at the sun. His life was crazy but she jumped in with both feet and fell head over heels in love with him.”

I look up at the park again as pain swells in my chest.

“And then she got pregnant. It was an accident and not something either of them wanted at the time but my mother refused to get an abortion which left my dad with two options - walk away from the woman he loved and his child or man up and do what needed to be done. He chose the latter and they got married a month later.”

“That sounds like a good thing, Iz,” he whispers, pressing his free hand to my cheek and I nod, wishing that were the case.

“You would think but this is just the beginning of the story, Diego.”

He nods for me to continue.

“I think they were happy, at least for a little while, but becoming a husband and father wasn’t a path my dad saw for himself. He couldn’t accept that his life had changed and his dream was gone so he became bitter. All of my early memories as a child involve him getting so drunk that he couldn’t even stand just to deal with the disappointment that his life had become and he never missed an opportunity to tell me or my mother how much he hated us and how much we had ruined his life. That’s all I ever knew from him - hatred. My mother… she tried to make up for his behavior, tried to be the best that she could be so that maybe I wouldn’t be so messed up but she was just as broken as I was.”

As I glance up at him, I squeeze his hand and he nods because he can see how history is repeating itself for both of us as I reveal more of my past to him.

“Shortly after my second birthday, my father got drunk one night and forced himself on my mother - something she revealed to me when I was older - and she got pregnant again with my sister, Alexandria. Things got a whole lot worse after she was born. My father was even more bitter than he’d been before and he started throwing things around the house and smashing his fist into walls when his vile words weren’t strong enough to express his rage.”

“You were so young, baby,” he says, his hands twitching to reach out and pull me into his arms but I appreciate that he is holding himself back. “You can’t possibly remember all that.”

I shrug. “It all kind of blends together, honestly, and I couldn’t tell you at what age things happened but I do remember a lot - the yelling, the fighting, the sounds of things shattering but most of all, I remember knowing without a doubt that my father hated me.”

His body tenses. “Did he ever hit you?”

“No. I guess that was the one line he wouldn’t cross so he could still convince himself that he was a decent man.”

Though, I don’t know how he was delusional enough to manage that.

“Where is he now?” he asks, his voice filled with malice and I shrug, looking over at the park.

“I’m not sure. When I was six, my mother decided that she’d had enough and filed for divorce. The fighting got worse then but my father never once tried to fight for my sister or me and I guess that shouldn’t surprise me after everything else. The last time I saw him was at this park on my seventh birthday.”

“You haven’t heard from him since?”

I shake my head. “No. He wasn’t interested in being a father so once he was free of us, he took off and he’s never resurfaced.”

“God, baby,” he rasps, reaching out for me to pull me into his arms and I shake my head, giving his hand a squeeze.