“Am I?” he raises a brow.
I plop down next to him, my hand on his shoulder. “What’s the real reason you’re not going?”
He sighs deeply, looks at me, places a kiss on my cheek, then bows his head.
“I was engaged a few years back.” That takes me by surprise. “Aurora and I met in high school, and I joined the SEALs while we were together.” He frowns, looking down at his hands.
“Is she still back home?” I feel a tinge of jealousy at the thought of someone else with Brax.
“I wish.” That kind of stings, but the look on his face tells me that he doesn’t mean it like that.
“She died in an accident, a year before I was scheduled to come home. That was five years ago, and I haven’t been home since.” I play with the hair at the back of his head, my heart aching for this man I’ve come to care so deeply for. “It’s just hard to think about going back there, seeing my family, hers. Staying away is easier.”
He stands and walks over to the fridge, grabbing a beer and knocking back half the bottle. Returning to the couch, he sets the bottle on the table.
“I’m sorry, Brax.” My voice is soft, my hands rest on his thigh.
He nods and runs a hand over his face. “Bryce is my only sibling, and I feel like shit that I’m not there, but the thought of facing them alone… it’s too much, even for me.”
“What if you weren’t alone?” I ask. “I could come with you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” he tells me, his wall back up again. Just when I think I’m cracking through it, he thickens the glass.
“You didn’t. I’m offering. I’m tired of these four walls, and work is pretty much the only other thing I do.”
He smirks. “I can think of a few other things you do.” He tugs me closer.
I smile at his naughty humor, but I won’t let him off the hook. “I want to do this.”
He thinks about it for a few seconds, then finishes his beer. “My family aren’t like most people.”
“Are mine?” I ask seriously. “It’s settled then, we’re going.” I stand, and he follows behind me, giving my ass a smack.”
* * *
Before my father became the Diego Hernandez, he was almost human, and finding out that Brax is from the same city my father was born in feels surreal. Encinitas is beautiful in general, the flower capital of Cali. We pull up to Braxton’s parent’s house which is on a small cul-de-sac. It’s a charming, beach-style home with the most stunning view of the Pacific Ocean.
We walk up the driveway and Brax opens the door without knocking. “Mom. Dad.” I hear a shriek and footsteps barreling down the stairs before a woman, who looks to be in her fifties, stands at the foot of the staircase, her hands over her mouth, tears in her eyes.
“Marshall!” she shouts as a grumbling, older version of Braxton makes his appearance.
Braxton’s mother rushes toward us, her arms flinging around her son. “Oh, God, you’re home.” she sobs, holding onto him tightly.
“Hey, Mom,” he says, his arms enveloping the petite woman, and when she lets him go, he plants a kiss on her cheek. She has a stylish silver bob cut, and eyes as blue as the ocean on a sunny day. The colorful bohemian style dress is stunning on her.
“About bloody time,” Brax’s dad complains, a bright smile on his face as he pulls his son into a hug.
“Good to see you, Pops.” Brax smile makes my heart skip a beat.
“Mom, Dad, this is Eliana, my –”
“Friend,” I finish, not wanting him to feel awkward.
“It’s so lovely to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Olivia, and this here is my Marshall,” she says, her cheeks flushed as she takes my hand in hers, squeezing it.
“Welcome, Eliana, we’re glad to have you,” Marshall adds.
“Thanks, Mr. Hayes.” I say shyly.
