Fight For Me

by Claudia Burgoa

Fuck, we need real furniture in this house.

  I link my hands together behind my neck. How did this happen? I let a harmless woman knock down every protection I’ve set to keep anyone at bay. This just shows how great she is at infiltrating and conquering.

  Also, at destroying.

  She touches her neck. “No. Actually, I didn’t touch your heart. I handed it back to protect it, Harry. This is what’s best for us—for you.”

  Dropping her gaze, she almost hits her chest with her chin. “I can’t fall for you. We can never have that happen.”

  I can feel my heart shatter even more.

  It doesn’t get much clearer than that. We’re done before it ever began.

  I mask the pain with rage. “I’ve no idea what your game was, but you won. Congratulations.”

  “There’s a pattern in my family,” she blurts, her voice wavers. “Have you ever heard that history always repeats itself?”

  She stares down at her palm, a look of pain crossing her face. My breath catches at the fear and pain that dims her light.

  She walks up to me, palm out. “This is called the line of life.” She traces the squiggle mark that goes from her index finger to the middle of her palm. “Do you see how short it is?”

  She takes my hand and does the same, though mine goes all the way to my wrist. “Mine is too short in comparison to yours or anyone I know. It tells you how long you’re going to live.”

  Luna chews her cheek, keeping her eyes on my hand. “I’m going to die soon.”

  Luna’s shoulders slump. She turns my hand to the side and traces the three faint lines next to my pinky finger. She sighs, pressing her fingers tight. I think I hear a sob, but maybe it’s just my imagination. “You’re going to have three children. I bet they’re going to be beautiful. Blue-eyed, blond, and smart like you. If you have boys, they’re going to be dynamite. But with the biggest heart. The Everhart heart.”

  A tear runs down her cheek.

  “Luna,” I whisper, swiping my thumb across her cheek.

  “I’m okay.” She forces a smile, finally looking at me.

  She’s not fine. I want to hold her against me and convince her that everything is going to be alright. Instead, I listen patiently. “Death doesn’t scare me. I made my peace with it a long time ago. Like my grandmother, my mother, and my sister, I won’t live long. Though, I hope I can say that I live long enough to make a mark in this world.”

  “You’re sick?” I take each hand, looking at them closely. I check her eyes next, but I can’t find anything wrong with her. But I’m not a doctor.

  Once she tells me everything, we’re leaving for Seattle, and I’m calling Anderson. His fiancée has to know every doctor in the area, if not, she can help us find a specialist.

  “There’s a cure for everything,” I say desperately.

  I kiss the back of her hands, cup her chin, and kiss her softly.

  “We will find it, together. I can quit my job, and we can travel the world as we search for the best doctors. Or we can just travel, take you to your favorite places as you enjoy your last days.” I swallow hard. “Together.”

  I want to ask her not to leave me, beg her to stay by my side. I just found her. First my parents, now her? This can’t be fucking happening.

  “Don’t leave me just yet,” I beg her, taking her into my arms. “I just found you. What is it?”

  “I’m not sick.” She shakes her head, and now I’m lost. “I don’t know when or how it’ll happen. I just can’t be with you.”

  She’s quiet for a few minutes, and I start processing what she just said.

  “Sorry, but you’re not making sense.”

  “It probably sounds crazy, but that’s what my father and my abuela have told me ever since I can remember. That I’ll die young.”

  It takes time to piece each word she has said together. This woman bases her life on horoscopes. She doesn’t cross the street without verifying that Zodiacs Dot Com, Your Daily Horoscope Dot Com, and Astro Signs Are Us have something good to say about the day she’s going to have. Or that she has a contingency plan for the rest of her day to counteract the bad luck.

  Like the stamp of the Virgin Mary in her wallet. The rosary blessed by the pope. That rabbit foot she carries around like a security blanket. The one her grandmother bought in some obscure town close to Mexico City thirty years ago. And as a contrast to that irrational behavior, Luna doesn’t think twice about fighting a dangerous, armed man twice her weight and a foot taller than her.

  Her father’s words make sense.

  You’re thirty-one, you don’t have much time left.

  He believes that just as she does. That’s some messed up shit that he’s been telling his daughter, and how do I convince her that they’re wrong?

  She can’t quit on us because of some stupid superstition. Okay, maybe that’s unfair. It’s not superstition, it’s something that the one person she trusts the most has been telling her since she was little. I feel my sadness leave me as I realize the implications of what she’s telling me. I’m going to regain control of this situation and my emotions, and I’ll be damned if I let her fears ruin what’s going on between us.

  “I get it, things have been crappy for you. Your mother died, your sister died—I’m sorry about your grandmother, too. What happened to them?”

  I know about her mother and her sister, but I want her to repeat it out loud and realize that she’s not making any sense. She can’t compare herself to them.

  “My grandmother had lung cancer. She died at thirty-three,” she answers, frowning. She’s wondering if she had told me this before. She did, but I want her to repeat the circumstances. “Mom was killed, well, you uncovered the story. Sammie overdosed.”

  “Your lungs are healthy. You have a dangerous job, but you know how to defend yourself. Also, you don’t use drugs.” I rub the back of my neck.

  “But anything could happen,” she says, resigned.

  Her conviction is infuriating, but I keep myself calm because she doesn’t need me to be an asshole. She needs someone who understands her—and loves her.

  I nod. “Anything could happen to you, or me, or either of us right now.”

  “If I stay and die soon after—” She shakes her head sadly. “You already lost your parents.”

  “You lost your mother,” I counter. “Life happens, just like death. We aren’t meant to live forever. Life is full of unknowns. You can’t predict what’s going to happen, but you can predict how you live it–how much you love while you’re here, and how you’ll be remembered when you leave.”

  “I know that, and I’m ready for this unknown. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then don’t hurt me. Let me love you, let yourself fall in love with me.” I push my fingers through my hair, walking around the foyer. “I have trouble understanding your quirks, but surprisingly, I’ve learned to live with them in such a short time. This one though, I can’t accept.”

  “No one believes me.” She huffs. “I don’t expect you to validate me.”

  “It’s not about validation, Luna,” I say, frustrated.

  “I’ve seen the jarring reality of war. I lived in rivers of blood, watched innocent people die for the past two decades. It hurts, and I accept it. I’m not affected by death. I’m in tune with my mortality after everything I have lived through.” I sigh. “Nonetheless, your news fucked me up, and I won’t lie, I almost cried, thinking I’d lose you.”

  Rubbing the heel of my palm against my chest, I continue. “But I’m aware that one day you’re going to leave me, or that I’ll leave you.”

  I tap my foot, choosing my words carefully. “Just don’t give up on what we can have because of your superstitious beliefs.”

  “You think it’s that easy?” She insists. The bravado is back in place, the fire ignited. “Some things can’t be ignored.”

  “How about you live your life hoping to beat the odds?” I retort, ignoring her feisty tone. “I wonder
if my parents would’ve changed anything if they had known that they would die the way they did.”

  I smile thinking of Mom and what she’d tell Luna. “Tomorrow is never guaranteed. So, live the best you can today, don’t wait,” I say with a smile, quoting my mother. “Charlotte Everhart always had some lesson to teach us or a quote that would help us through any problem we gave her. I miss her.”

  Swallowing the rock inside my throat, I look at Luna. “She loved everyone with all she had. She was messy, wild, and put her heart into everything she did. She helped everyone, and she touched the hearts of everyone she met.”

  “She sounds amazing.”

  “Mom would’ve loved you. She never stopped living. During our last phone conversation, she told me to keep going, to remember everything she’d taught me and teach it to my brothers.” I twist my mouth. “She lives in this place, in my brothers’ hearts. You can’t just close yourself up because your father thinks it’s better if you stay under his roof.”

  Her eyes widen. I don’t know if it’s that I dare to insult her father or something that I said. Right now, I hate the man. He brainwashed her, and the worst part is that her grandmother agreed with him. And Luna believes them.

  “He fed you fear. And still, you fight it hard because you’re a warrior, but you keep pushing everyone out around you.” I sigh. “I bet that if he hadn’t done that, you would have fallen in love a few times. You pretend to have an open heart, but you keep it under lock and key.”

  She taps her temple several times. “My father and grandmother have repeated to me that I have to be careful. That I’ve been given a gift, this life isn’t mine. That I have to care for it because it’s going to end soon. I’ll end up like Mom.”

  She shakes her head, stroking her arms with her hands. “And I was okay with everything until you barged into it and now, I don’t want to leave. Not without you.”

  “Come with me.” I head to the terrace, open the door and walk to the wind chimes.

  “Mom was a lot like you,” I say, changing the subject, letting her think about what I said. “She drove me crazy, but I adored her. There are two things I miss the most: her chocolate chip cookies and her wise lessons. They seemed useless at the time, but they’ve helped my brothers and me for years.”

  “I didn’t have the chance to know my mom.” Luna hugs herself. “I only have her words, her letters.”

  “What’s that?” I angle my head perking my ear as if listening to something. “Mom says that your mother is proud of you. That your father is wrong, and she thinks you have to delete those useless horoscope apps from your phone. That you’ll live many years, and you’ll have five children because that’s what Charlotte wants. Unless, you only want to have one, or none. It’s your choice.”

  She chuckles, pressing her lips together.

  “Hey, I’m just telling you what my mother is saying. We have that kind of relationship.” I give her a lopsided smile. “She doesn’t care that she’s in heaven, or that I’m almost forty. She meddles and looks after us, just like your mom does from heaven.”

  She gives me an amused grin. “You think so?”

  “Are you calling my mom a liar?”

  She shakes her head and says with a serious voice, “What if we continue this and one day we have a child, and she grows up without a mom?”

  “What if we have a daughter who is as beautiful and smart as you?” I touch the place on my hand that she touched earlier, where she had concluded that I’d have three children. “Or three of them. And we just love them without thinking about what can happen to them, to us. What if you let yourself think beyond what you believe is inevitable?”

  “It’s scary,” she whispers. “Mom’s journal will end and what will I do without knowing what to do next?”

  I’m partially confused by this turn of events. Luna seems like a woman who doesn’t need anything or anyone. She’s independent and appears to know where she’s going and how to accomplish it. But underneath the façade she shows to everyone, there’s a person who still needs her mother at night, and who hasn’t found what makes her heart beat fast. And I hope that as she finds herself, she can see how good we can be together.

  “You live your life the way you think is best,” I say.

  Mom, don’t fail me. I need all those lessons you taught me to help this woman.

  “You have to find your purpose and your place in the world. The scariest part is learning how to live once you stop doing what you believed was your purpose. Sometimes, you grow out of people, places, or careers. Staying is easy. Deciding to move on is the hardest, bravest thing to do.”

  “Like a divorce?”

  “Or a change of careers,” I add. “When my parents died, I decided to enlist. I had to avenge my parents. Not the best reason. I’m not proud of that logic, but that was the way I grieved.”

  I rub my neck, remembering the day we met. “I don’t know why you decided to become an FBI agent. You are good at analyzing data, at finding patterns, and at fighting. But you’re also good at healing and giving.”

  She furrows her brow.

  “I’ve seen your face while you’re handing out those Ziploc bags you carry with you. You spend your money on people who need it more than you. And that bright smile while you’re doing it, fuck, that’s food for my soul. I imagine doing it might be the same for you.”

  She nods enthusiastically. “I love it.”

  “What if I tell you that you can do more?” I ask. “You have a lifetime ahead of you, whether it’s two years or a hundred, to find what makes you happy.”

  “My grandmother thinks I will only be good at marrying and having children.”

  Though I love the idea of marrying her and knocking her up, I’m willing to bet that she has a bigger purpose in life.

  “It doesn’t matter how long you have,” I insist, closing my argument. “Just live. Let yourself love.”

  “You take it lightly, Harrison, but I can’t imagine leaving the man I love so soon. It would make everything so hard.”

  My heart stops when she says the man she loves. I am about to confirm if she’s talking about me when she says, “Look at my father. He’s a zombie. I would hate myself if I did that to you.”

  I’m fighting a smile because she just confirmed that she loves me. Me. Yes, love me.

  Fight for me.

  Fight for us.

  I cup her face, bending down to kiss her like it’s the first time—slow, deep, searing, like there’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do but have her writhing in my arms. This is the prelude, a promise of what’s to come. The fire begins with this kiss, but once she’s blazing, I’ll take her to my room and finally show her the fervent love that’s growing inside me, inside us.

  I’m throwing away Hazel’s advice about how to make her fall for me. This is how it’s done.

  “Hey, we’ve been looking for you two.” Hazel’s voice feels like a bucket of ice and cold water.

  “Fuck, I’m going to kill her,” Luna mumbles.

  I start laughing—she never uses the f-word.

  “You’re not ready.” Hazel accuses us, her eyes wide.

  Ready? I arch a brow, not getting her.

  “It better be important, Beesley,” I warn her, turning to look at her. “We’re busy, and her fuse is too short. You don’t want to see Luna when she’s pissed.”

  Giving her a glance, I say, “Why are you all dressed up? Are we going to the opera? Because if that’s the case, pass.”

  “Dinner at Willow and Hunter’s.” She taps her watch. “Did you forget?”

  I slam a hand against my forehead.

  Fuck.

  “How important is it?” I ask, already annoyed. I can’t go, simple.

  “Very important. You should dress up, and expect a ceremony. I think it’s…” she looks around and whispers, “… a wedding.”

  “How do you know, nosy?”

  “Willow has been avoiding me all week, but kept asking
about caterers, flowers, and quartets.” She shows me her phone. “Either she’s organizing a funeral or a wedding. I choose the latter.”

  “You better be right, Beesley.”

  “Luna?” Please say you don’t want to go.

  “I might have a dress or two for the occasion. But I have to go back home.”

  “The car is waiting for us, Luna,” Hazel says with a bright smile. She has a knack for micromanaging everyone’s life and fix last minute fuck ups.

  Checking my watch, I realize that we only have about an hour to get ready. We can’t fool around. I have to be there for my brother. “I’ll pick you up in an hour. We have to finish this conversation.”

  “I’m looking forward to witnessing how you build your case, Harry.” Her voice is sultry.

  I give her a challenging gaze as she leaves. Oh, I plan to bring my A game.

  Chapter Thirty

  Luna

  Hazel guessed right. Willow and Hunter organized a surprise wedding. Their patio is decorated with twinkling lights, volcano color roses, and candles. It’s beautiful, simple and romantic. The atmosphere is peaceful.

  Everyone is ready for Willow to make an appearance. When the string quartet starts playing “Vivaldi’s Spring,” she and her grandfather walk out to the patio and toward the gazebo at the end of the outdoor room. She wears a classy, strapless white gown.

  Hunter waits for her with a big smile on his face and love in his eyes. He sports a tuxedo; his shirt is unbuttoned on the top. He’s not wearing a tie. Harrison and Scott are by his side as his best men. Hazel is her maid of honor, and I’m a bridesmaid because, according to them, I’m already part of the family. And although it sounds crazy that they’ve opened the doors to someone who they just met a couple of months ago, I love it. Looking at the small bouquet, I wonder if I’ll ever take this step. I never contemplated it, but with Harrison…

  When Willow reaches Hunter, she hugs her grandfather and kisses Hunter on the cheek.

  “This is my first time officiating a wedding, so be patient.” Fitz stares at the paper that he’s holding.

  “Hunter, Willow. You two are the perfect couple, and I couldn’t be more thankful that you chose me to be the one performing the ceremony.” He looks to the left, then to the right and smiles.