Heartbeat Repeating - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,16

and their child, when life made sense for a while, is trapped in that little digital universe.

His mother has boxes of photos from when he was growing up, he has files on his MacBook. They feel less tangible that way—less real, but they also feel safer because a well-timed fire would only ruin the device, not the immortality of the cloud.

Being home relieves some of the weight he’s been carrying, though, and even more lifts when the front door opens and his mother steps out. She’s old—because he’s old. She has more of a hunch to her shoulders, and he swears she’s lost a few inches since the last time he was home. Her hair is still mostly black though, and her face round, and her smile is stretched from ear to ear. She holds out both arms, and somehow, he doesn’t feel a foot and a half taller than her. He finds a way to curl into her embrace, and as much as he doesn’t trust himself to be able to survive the softness, he closes his eyes against her kisses and just lets himself feel.

“Mi cielito,” she says, stepping back to give his cheek a firm, painless slap, “you look terrible. I know your flight was just you and your brother. Why didn’t you sleep?”

He groans softly and lets her thread her arms through both his and Louis’ as she drags them up the steps. “I hate sleeping on flights. I can’t relax.”

She tuts but says nothing as she drags them into the sitting room. Their father is there—looking older than her. His hair is almost entirely iron grey and he’s got a pipe in his mouth that’s unlit because their mother put a stop to that ten years ago. But he only agreed to crack the habit if she let him keep all the paraphernalia, and he sometimes wonders if his OCD was just a culmination of both parents’ quirks dumped into their firstborn so it allowed the two children that followed the freedom from all that heaviness.

He finds it in himself to smile when his dad grins around the mouthpiece of the pipe then pushes himself to stand. He kisses both of Alejandro’s cheeks, then Louis’, then he sits back down and reaches for his paper until his wife slaps his elbows and swears at him in Spanish.

“Tonto del culo. Not while the boys are visiting.”

Roberto rolls his eyes and drops his hands into his lap. “They’re not visiting. This will always be their home—you can’t visit your own home.”

His father remained such a good man—kind and generous to a fault, and there are times Alejandro wonders how the hell he’s done it because in order to keep the business running, he’s had to make decisions that make him feel less and less human. His father had worked until the doctor told him he was putting his health at risk, and he retired with more money than their entire line of ancestors had seen.

And it’s not the first time that Alejandro wonders what the fucking point is.

Money buys comfort, and it makes people happy. But it can’t raise the dead, and it can’t stop the inevitable from happening. It couldn’t save his daughter, it didn’t save his marriage. And, as Louis had pointed out, it hasn’t even made Avery happy. A single year with this bright, beautiful man with big dreams and no leg up—and Alejandro has done nothing but add to his bitterness and pocketbook.

“Do you want some lunch?” his mother asks.

He shakes his head, but Louis interrupts and begs for tea, so she gets up and shuffles out of the room. She walks slower, and Alejandro feels a familiar ache in his chest because he’s all too familiar with the reality that nothing lasts forever. His parents will die.

Maybe soon.

“Do you want to go rest, mi hijito?” his father asks.

He turns to him, bristling at the endearment because he’s so so many decades beyond being a child. But his gaze is sluggish because everything’s starting to feel a lot again. He hasn’t looked around because there are photos of their grandchildren everywhere, and Gabrielle’s presence has never been banned from this room nor this house. He takes a breath, then he nods because he might as well get some semblance of sleep while he still can.

He’s meeting Connor at the park in the morning for their own private moment—the one thing they promised each other wouldn’t change. He has no faith that Connor will