“Maybe being here with your family triggered it? It must be so bittersweet to see your aunt and uncle.”
He nods. “It is. My Uncle Luis lost his brother. Yaya lost her son. I look in their eyes and I see my father. It’s inevitable. But at the same time, I need them. Being around them feels like being around my father. When he was sober, of course.” He sighs and leans back into the bed. “It’s complicated. I wish…I wish for so many things.”
“Have you ever thought about going on medication?”
“Sí,” he says carefully. “But I have, how you say…coping mechanisms.”
“Such as?”
“The game. It’s always been the game. Maybe for a while there it was drinking and women and driving fast, I don’t know. But the game has always been there for me. It’s a way to lose myself, to channel things. And sometimes, I feel like it’s the only way I’m close to him” He gives me a sad smile. “He knew I would do great things, that I was born to play. Until his other vices claimed him, all he cared about was me out there on the pitch. So here I am. Out there on the pitch. Doing what he believed I could do, doing what I love to do. And it’s all because of him.”
He picks at the lint on the embroidered bedspread, eyes now downcast. “Sometimes, I do feel a little guilty. Like…had he not died, I would have not put everything I had into playing. I wouldn’t have felt the pressure to provide for my family. I would not have worked so damn hard to get into the youth academy and beyond. Sometimes I worry…he died so I could succeed.”
“You can’t think like that, Alejo,” I tell him, my fingers trailing over the side of his face. “It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to your father. We don’t know why things happen in life. Why certain tragedies happen and whether they put us onto different paths, for better or worse.”
“Then how do you make sense of things?” he says, eyes going to mine.
I feel lost in them, the sense of almost drowning, barely keeping my head above water. I’m so close to going under and losing myself completely to him.
Body, mind, and soul.
Heart, too.
I swallow hard. “A few months ago, I couldn’t tell you. Because nothing in my life made sense at all. I was just floundering, grasping for a second chance at life.”
“And now?” he whispers, gaze dropping to my lips.
“Now? I think I need to let my heart tell me what makes sense. And what feels right.”
He moves in an inch, his fingers slipping into my hair, this thumb pressed along my cheekbone. “Does your heart make sense of us?”
I nod, smiling faintly. “It does.”
The relief in his eyes is visible before he closes them and pulls me into a kiss.
It’s passionate and strong, leaving me wanting so much more.
Just like he does.
Chapter 24
Thalia
The next day I wake up bright and early, the sun coming in through the window panes. Alejo is still sleeping. I suppose that nightmare really knocked him out.
I get out of bed and go over to the window and gasp at the sight.
It was so dark last night that I had no idea Maya and Luis’ house was right above the rocky coast, waves crashing not too far below the window. A little stone staircase leads into a flat area of a boat launch, a couple of small fishing boats bobbing on the water. The color of the water itself is stunning in the morning light, a bright turquoise that leads to a deep, vivid cerulean blue.
I can’t believe I’m here.
Not just in Tenerife, this volcanic Spanish island floating off the coast of West Africa, but that I’m here with Alejo, surrounded by his family.
I put my fingers at the bottom of the window and push it up, fresh salty air flowing into my face, moving my hair.
I can’t help but let out a little laugh and turn my head toward the sun, letting the rays beat down on my face. It’s been so gloomy in Madrid that I’d forgotten how much I missed the feeling of sun on my skin, even if my skin tends to go pink during the summer.
“What are you doing?” Alejo mumbles from the bed.
“I’m soaking this all in,” I tell him, scampering back to bed.
I get under the covers. It’s warmer than Madrid, but