Vera

Chapter 29

Santiago
5 years later

I hate Florida. It's so people-y and hot. I rotate my jaw. I can still feel that hit I got last week. I know he still feels his, I made sure to break a couple bones.

I have some questionable—dangerous, if you want—hobbies but they help get my mind off things. So does work which is why I'm in Florida. Negotiating a new deal about shipments. There's even more people here in Florida seeing as it's a vacation spot, especially since school just finished for the year.

I'm walking back to my hotel, as quickly as possible I will add. It seems the older I get the more 'grumpy'—as Cameron says—I become. But that's normal, the more I live the more stupid people I have to deal with.

As I'm walking 3 women come out of Starbucks. Each of them is holding a drink which all seem to be coffee. I hate coffee it tastes like dirt water. They are walking towards me, and they bat their eyelashes. They pump out their chest and butt, hoping I notice them. I do but not in the way they intend.

They're fine women. Pretty to the eyes, but no woman will ever be as beautiful as Vera. Mi luz. She lit up a room without pumping out anything. Mocha brown hair, sky blue eyes, pink, soft lips. I miss you, mi todo, so much.

No, I have business later tonight and I will be out of here and back home with Matteo, Cam, Alex, Mila, and Jasper. They're here focus on them.

...

I stand and shake each man's hand before leaving the club's private room. I'd stay and celebrate the business deal we hashed out, but I just want to get home. I don't really know why.

I count each step I take, just something to busy my mind. I used to look tired from all the work. Mila would tell me all the time. I've gotten good at hiding it. She doesn't worry about me as much anymore, but I haven't gotten less tired.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6- A guy runs past me, hitting my shoulder. "Sorry, man." He waves me off but continues running. A roll my eyes, a little tempted to shoot him, but everything stops when my eyes catch on a woman in an ice cream shop. She's seated at the back, in a booth, mocha brown waves fall around her face and disappear down her back. Blue eyes, sky blue eyes.

What the hell are you doing stopping in front of a speeding car like a dumbass?

Everything slows like I'm in a fucked up movie. I can't breathe. I can't move. I feel like I can't move, but I am. I'm walking to the door. I see a bell on it but don't hear it ring. I see a waitress talking to me but I can't hear her. I see families discussing something, but I don't know what about. I see my hands shaking, but I can't feel them. I hear my heart thudding and in my ears. Over and over and over. Then I'm in front of it. The girl that looks like Vera. I scan her face and land on what I'm looking for.

A scar. Smaller than the tip of my pinky, through her eyebrow. I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Vera," My voice comes out as a whisper. It wouldn't even be heard in an empty meadow, but she hears it. My lungs freeze, my heart stops. She looks at me, but it's like she sees someone else. Someone not worth looking at, then—plain as day—fear. Terror. She stands slowly, completely composed. She walks towards me till we're a foot apart. And says her words with deadly precision.

"Leave." I go rigid. Leave? Why would I leave? How is she here? What is this reaction? I feel something hard press against my torso when I'm distracted trying to find the answers to my questions in her eyes. I look down and it's a gun. She digs it harder against me.

"I will shoot you, right now, in front of all of these families, Desoto." Desoto? Before I can open my mouth, out of the corner of my eye, I see a head of mocha brown hair pop up from the booth where Vera was sitting. Brown eyes match Vera's hair, brown like Matteo's eyes when he was a kid. Mocha brown hair, paired with brown eyes, on a small boy. A boy who looks about 5 years old. 5 years old.

The pressure of the gun digging into my stomach falters when Vera sees what I'm seeing.

A boy, about 5 years old, with Vera's mocha hair, and Matteo's brown eyes which were once my brown eyes and Antonio's when we were kids. Every boy in the Desoto family once had those brown eyes.

"Please," I break my eyes away from him and look at Vera. Her eyes are full of tears, barely sitting on the rim of her eyes. She's breathing heavily, every emotion is clear on her face. She's scared, terrified. I take a step back then another and another. I'm out of the door, down the block, in a car, in a plane, and while I sit on the plane I come to a realization.

Vera wasn't just scared, terrified. She was terrified—of me.

...

I'm banging on Mila and Alex's door at 11 pm. I don't feel bad. I haven't felt much of anything for 3 hours. Alex opens the door with a gun pointed at my head. I push it away from my face and walk past him.

"Where's Mila?" I choke out. Alex furrows his eyebrows, but Mila is coming down the stairs before he can answer.

"Santiago, what's wrong?" She ties her robe and comes to stand in front of me.

"Your stupid breathing exercise isn't working." I say, trying to keep the shakiness of my voice at bay. In that entire flight, I haven't been able to stop shaking, to catch a steady breath. She grabs my hands and brings me to the couch. She waves over Alex and he kneels by her, ready to do whatever she says. She extends two of my fingers and presses them against Alex's pulse.

"Match yours with his." Normally I wouldn't listen and I'd complain, but I don't have the fight in me. I match my breathing with Alex's and after 5 minutes I'm not shaking anymore. I'm trembling but not much.

"Tell me what happened, Santiago." Mila uses a calm voice. She's a really good doctor and was the person I really leaned on when Vera—

"I saw her. In an ice cream shop. She was wearing black jeans and a blue long sleeve shirt." I look up at Mila and she nods.

"You had another dream," I start breathing hard again.

"No, Mila. This was real. She was there. Her hair it was longer, and she had the same scar." She looks over at Alex, and he nods. He knows when people are lying. "But when I confronted her she pulled a gun on me." Mila looks at me in disbelief.

"Tell me more. What happened?" My leg starts to bounce another distraction I picked up.

"She told me to leave, and there was a boy. A boy who looked 5 and like me and Matteo when we were kids." Mila's lips part in shock, even Alex is surprised. "Mila, listen," I grasp onto her wrist, trying to make her focus. "She looked at me like she was terrified I'd hurt her. Like I'd kill her."

"But that doesn't make sense," Mila's voice becomes unstable now, a quiver shakes it.

"I need you to go. I need you and Alex to go and—" Do what? What can they do?

"You should come with us," Mila pulls at me to get up, but I sit like a boulder.

"No-" I choke back my emotions, there's no time now. "I can't see her fear me again. I can't," She nods and runs upstairs, changes in about 30 seconds, then they're gone. And I'm left alone in their home which has never felt more cold and empty.