second.”
I did, but my heart sank as I sat in the chair across from his desk, knowing what was coming.
“We’re obviously having a hard time with Andrew,” Mike said. “He’s getting into a lot of fights, and it’s very disruptive to the center.”
“It’s d...d-disruptive to him to be t-teased all of the t-t-time,” I said, trying to keep my knee-jerk anger in check.
Mike held up his hands, half in submission but half in exasperation. “What am I supposed to do, Javi? Other than you, we only have one other ASL interpreter, and she’s part-time. We can’t cater to all of his needs. He needs help with homework, some emotional management help, and someone who can translate for him socially, like on the playground and in the art room. That’s a lot of support that we can’t afford.”
I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes. It wasn’t Mike’s fault that the center couldn’t support Andrew’s needs. Hell, I knew he tried as hard as he could to help Andrew and any other kids with special needs feel welcome. But it was so goddamn frustrating that it was something as simple as money that was going to keep Andrew isolated and unable to get the help he needed.
If he didn’t have the center, I didn’t know if there was anything I could say that would keep him from getting into more and more trouble.
“Don’t give up on him,” I pleaded, dragging fingers roughly through my hair. I wanted to explode. It felt so fucking unfair—there had to be something I could do.
“What am I supposed to do, Javi? I’m trying my best over here.” And the thing is, he was. Mike worked his ass off for the youth center. I knew he wanted to help and he wasn’t trying to reject Andrew. “I have to have more resources, and even with the rebranding and the relay, I don’t know if it will be enough. How am I supposed to get our name out to donors who don’t need our services?”
I sucked in a deep breath. I wasn’t ready to tell him about the Get Ink’d fundraiser until everything was finalized, but I needed him to know I was working on it. “I’ve got an idea. Don’t give up on Andrew yet. I just need s...s-so-so-so...a little time.”
“You know I’ll give you and Andrew as much time as I can,” Mike said, and I knew he meant it.
My mind was racing as I left. There was so much that I needed to sort through, to help myself regain control. Telling Andrew about how I’d assaulted that boy when I was younger had left me shaky and reeling, a little too close to how helpless I’d felt so constantly when I was younger, wildly emotional.
Gordo was in the parking lot, leaning against my truck, because of course he was. Fuck, after my conversation with Andrew, I’d totally forgotten that Gordo had been here at all. But he’d helped separate the boys, after all. He was probably interested in hearing the outcome.
He also looked ashamed to see me. Which, really, he should, but I didn’t have the emotional space to be petty at the moment.
“Javi! Could I talk to you a moment?”
His voice, rich and pleading, was a hook and I was caught. There were times when the way Gordo made me feel was exciting, how just a look or a word from him snagged hold of me and didn’t let me go for days. But with the outburst at the hospital, I saw that his power to make me feel attractive and desirable also came with the ability to make me feel like shit.
And since he was working so many things out in his own life, he was so often hot or cold with me, when I desperately needed warm and safe.
“I’m headed out,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint.
“This will only take a second,” he pleaded, and fuck, I couldn’t keep walking. He pushed off my truck to close the difference between us, and his nearness made my fists clench from wanting to touch him—but to push away or pull closer, I wasn’t sure. “You did me a huge favor by driving me and Giuliana to the hospital, and I was a dick to you.”
“Yes. You were.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he reached out like he wanted to take my hand, only to drop it.
So he was feeling hot today. Jesus, Gordo was a mindfuck.
“I really am sorry, Javi,” Gordo