a hero put me in one of your perfectly labeled boxes and finally solve the fucking mystery of who I am to you?”
“Gabe—” Nat gasped just as his father’s palm smacked his cheek.
The point of impact burned. Funny how a father’s slap felt like a knife to the heart.
It was surreal. It was as if he were leaning against the wall in the corner, looking in at the unfolding del Toro family drama. He knew his words had stung. Likely just as much as they had pained him to think or admit.
He had tried damn hard to be honest and true, to himself and to others. He had pushed himself to be better, stronger. He wanted to be the good son. Scratch that…he wanted to be the best son. The one who would make a father push his chest out as he slung his arm around his son’s shoulders and paraded him around to all his friends as he declared…“that’s my son.”
Instead, he had been a disappointment to his father. For a million different reasons. And likely a few more for good measure.
He closed his eyes, reluctantly accepting things wouldn’t change regardless of how many times he tried to rewrite their story.
He ducked his head as his vision blurred.
His skill of assessment was a quality he had undoubtedly inherited from his father. And deep down, he knew the root of his father’s frustration. His father was structured, methodical with his tasks, and had the gift of dissecting things to the smallest of details. It was a trait that drove Mom up the wall, especially when Dad agonized over something he believed defied logic…his logic. He rarely accepted things he couldn’t understand.
And he couldn’t understand his son.
Bull wouldn’t deny who he was in favor of appeasing his father. He was finally at a point in his life where he was happier than he had ever been, with a man he loved more than life itself. He had fought, sacrificed, negotiated, and compromised far too much in life to be where he was at that very moment.
It had taken him thirty-eight years, but every morning, he now smiled back at the man in the mirror.
If his father couldn’t accept him—all of him—then he needed to leave.
And yet, he couldn’t will his body to move.
He sat there, hands clasped together under the table, frozen.
If he walked out that door, deep down, he sensed it would take a miracle to return. Maybe there’s still a chance?
He desperately wanted to rekindle the father-son relationship they once had. But if his father didn’t try meeting him halfway, it was pointless to keep pushing. Especially when he chose to attack. It was physically and emotionally exhausting to keep hitting that iron wall and always landing on his ass, bruised and battered.
He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. With his fingers numb from the tight clasp of his hands, he knew he needed to leave.
His heart and head were in sync.
He just wished his body would listen.
= ♥ =
The physical similarities between Gabriel and his father were striking. Ben could easily see Frank as the age-progressed version of Gabriel.
But they couldn’t be more different. There was an air of life, confidence, and happiness around Gabriel that always shone in his eyes and smile. Frank was stoic, intimidating, and commanded attention. Ben imagined few would dare challenge or question him. Gabriel had. And the battle scars were now evident in his slumped shoulders. The weight of the world bore down on him, beating him within an inch of his life.
And Ben refused to sit and let that happen for another second.
He slid his hand under the table and over Gabriel’s clasped hands, drawing his attention. The pain staring back at him pierced his heart. He stood and tapped Gabriel’s shoulder, urging him to follow. It seemed as if it were the nudge Gabriel needed. Something inside him told him Gabriel needed the contact—as comfort, support, or reassurance. With a hand on Gabriel’s back, Ben guided them to the door.
He stopped when a firm hand gripped his forearm. He whipped around, giving Frank a hard stare as he yanked his arm free. “He doesn’t know what he wants,” Frank said while signing. “You’re going to get hurt when he figures it out.”
Oh…now you decide to start signing? Ben scoffed. He glanced over to Gabriel, the life had sparked again in his eyes and his jaw muscles tightened.
“Don’t you fucking dare touch him like that again!” Gabriel said, his chest heaving