Every Wound We Mend

by J. E. Parker

  “Baby,” he whispered, deep baritone soothing, “talk to me.”

  Free hand reaching out to grip his lapel, I tugged him closer. “Tell me he’s here,” I begged, sounding more like a mental patient with each second that ticked by. “Tell me he’s here and that I haven’t completely lost it.”

  My shuddering breaths hitched when James slid his eyes to the man beside me, his strong arm no longer twined with mine after he pulled it free, then wrapped it around my lower back.

  “He’s here, Pixie.” His face studied mine. “Alejandro is here.”

  In an instant, my legs buckled.

  Only, I didn’t hit the ground because two muscular arms, each belonging to a different man, grabbed me, stopping my culos descent to the ground. But it was my little brother, my hermanito, that captured most of my weight and pulled me into his embrace.

  It was a move I was surprised Guapo allowed, but knowing that I needed this moment, he did just that.

  “Hermanito,” I cried as Alejandro turned me in his arms, our eyes meeting for the first time since the day I was dragged from Melendez’s estate by a demon whose name I no longer spoke.

  For years, I’d thought he’d hated me because that day, he’d been cold, unfeeling. But right then, while staring into his eyes, I knew I’d been wrong. He never hated me. He’d only acted that way to protect me.

  To protect us.

  “You’re alive.” My hand wrapped around his neck, feeling the beat of his hammering heart against my palm. “And you’re… h-here.”

  The words I spoke sounded just like the ones Chiquita had cried the day that Little One and I had reunited with her, our bodies crashing into a heaping pile of flesh and bones in her front yard—a moment that was only made possible because of Anthony.

  Just as I suspected this one was.

  ‘I’m alive,” he whispered in reply, “and I’m here.” Hand going to my face, his calloused thumb swept across my cheek, brushing away one of the many tears that had fallen.

  And that continue to fall.

  “I can’t stay long”—fresh panic clawed at me—“but I intend to walk you down the aisle before I go.” A smile, one that I could tell he’d worn little, if at all, since our lives had been torn apart, lifted the corners of his mouth the slightest bit. “Let me, si?”

  “You can’t leave me.” My hand gripped his lapel, just as it had done James’ seconds before. “Not now and not when—”

  “I’ll be back.” Another swipe of his thumb. “Maybe not tomorrow or the day after, but on Mamá and Papá’s graves, I swear I will return.” That smile stayed in place, neither growing nor faltering. “And when I do, I’ll tell you everything that’s happened.”

  That momento couldn’t come soon enough.

  “After that, you may never want to see me again, but I won’t speak a single lie about who I am or what I’ve done.”

  “Hermanito, I—”

  “I’m not a good man, Carmen. I haven’t been good since I was twelve years old, and I never will be again.” Lifting my hand from his tux, he kissed my knuckles. “But with you, only with you, I’ll try to be. Even if I have to pretend.”

  I didn’t know what to say, what to think.

  “I don’t want you to pretend.”

  His eyes, perfect replicas of mine, stared down at me, unblinking.

  “No? Then what is it you want?”

  “I just want my little brother back.” It was the truth. He may have been a bad man, but he was still Alejandro, and that meant something. “Demons and all.”

  His smile disappeared, and an expression I couldn’t read slid across his face. “You have me, so let’s focus on getting you married.”

  Pulling his gaze from me, he stared at James, an unspoken conversation passing between them. “Take care of my sister, James Cole. You don’t, and there will be consequences.”

  The arctic chill that possessed Alejandro’s voice sent chills racing down my spine.

  “I would hope so,” Guapo replied, ever the smartass. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have my woman back since I’ve been waiting all my life to marry her, and every bit of patience I had is gone.”

  I scoffed, the anxiety and panic that had gripped me minutes before nowhere to be found as I pulled out of Alejandro’s hold and steadied myself on my white stilettos, somehow managing not to topple over.

  Turning and bringing myself face to face with my soulmate, and the man whose wedding ring I was about to wear, I stepped to the side and looped my arm back into Alejandro’s, not bothering to fix my hair and what I suspected was smeared make-up.

  “Now I’m ready.”

  “You sure, Beauty?” Brantley asked from where he stood next to a bawling Clara. “Because we can wait another hundred years if you need us to. I mean, it’s not like we haven’t been standing here for a decade or two already.”

  His breath whooshing out of his lungs thanks to a well-placed arm to the stomach from Clara was audible from where we stood.

  I bit back a smile as everyone chuckled.

  “Guapo,” I whispered, feeling my heart grow light as my chest burned, mending my last remaining wound. “Get your culo back down the aisle so I can walk to you, si?”

  Closing the space between us, he rested his forehead against mine, eyes sliding shut. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Pulling back the slightest bit, he brushed his lips against my temple, then turned and headed back toward the flower-covered arch, where the minister we’d hired stood, waiting.

  Then, the music started to play again.

  When it had stopped, I wasn’t sure.

  Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin into the air like the proud beauty queen I’d always be and bumped Alejandro’s side with my arm. “Let’s go, hermanito.”

  Doing as he was told, my little brother, and the first best friend I’d ever had, walked me down the aisle and straight into my soulmate’s impatient but waiting arms.

  Where I was always meant to be.

  I was now Mrs. James David Cole.

  And I couldn’t have been happier.

  Wrapped in Guapo’s warm embrace, we swayed to the soft music that floated through the speakers surrounding the dance floor as husband and wife, lost in one another.

  Cristo, we might as well have been the only two people in the world as we stood there, my head on his broad chest, his brawny arms surrounding me, the love we’d fought tooth and nail for cocooning us.

  I only wished the momento had lasted longer.

  But it didn’t, because seconds later, Alejandro’s voice broke through the spell that I’d been under ever since James descended on me at the altar, his lips tentatively brushing mine before taking my mouth in a scandalizing kiss that only left me craving more.

  “Carmen,” he said, tone cloaked and leaving me unable to read him. “I have to go.”

  The tenderness he’d shown me before while holding me in his arms and making promises I prayed he intended to keep was now gone, leaving iciness in its wake.

  Right then, he reminded me of Ari.

  Pulling my arms from around James’ neck, I took a small step back.

  “You can’t stay for cake?”

  He shook his head, the rigid set of his jaw bringing back memories of Papá when he got upset, usually over something that had happened at work.

  “Not this time.”

  I wanted to scream, wanted to demand that he stay and eat cake, or at the very least, dance with me one more time.

  The single song we’d spent in each other’s arms hadn’t been enough.

  Not after all the time we’d spent apart and the memories we’d missed out on making.

  Swallowing around the softball-sized lump that had formed in the base of my throat, I slid my hand into Guapo’s, taking the comfort that he always gave me.

  “When will I see you again?”

  He looked toward the open back fence, eyes scanning the area. “It won’t be long.” I opened my mouth to ask him for
a more specific answer, but I never got the chance before he added, “I have business in Charleston that I’ll need to return for. Sooner, rather than later.”

  Next to me, James froze.

  “Charleston?” A deaf man could’ve heard the unease that lined his voice. “Hell, this is going to be a clusterfuck of epic proportions.”

  Admittedly, I knew nothing about Alejandro’s current life, only what he’d told me before walking me down the aisle. But even I knew that him going into Charleston, which belonged to Ari and the Kings, would cause trouble.

  The kind that could get him killed.

  “Hermanito, you can’t—”

  “Everybody, get your doggone butts to the front of my house!” I sighed and looked to the left when Grandmama started shouting, waving an arm—at least it’s not her swatter—toward the open fence gate. “We’ve got pictures to take before we cut the cake!”

  She chuckled. “Hey, that rhymed.”

  Leaning forward and tearing my attention from the Crazy Old Biddy, Alejandro kissed my cheek before pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “You looked beautiful today, princesa.” His gaze moved to James. “Take care of her.”

  His stern words weren’t a request.

  Still, Guapo nodded.

  “I will. You have my word.”

  And just like that, Alejandro turned his back on me and walked away, once again disappearing from my life like a ghost in the night, only this time it had been his choice.

  I just prayed he’d be back soon.

  If he isn’t…

  Feeling a tear slide down my cheek, I turned to face James, pushing away the dark thoughts that threatened to take hold away.

  This was my wedding day.

  Pain had no place here.

  “So, Guapo,” I said, looping my arms around his neck and kissing his jaw. “Are you going to carry me to the front of the house, or do I need to—”

  I squealed as he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder, his arm banding over the back of my thighs, securing me in place.

  “You’re mine now, Pixie.” His hand came down on my culo, playfully swatting me. “And that means I get to carry you whenever I want.”

  Reaching down, I slapped my hand against his rear, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

  “Newsflash, pendejo,” I said between bouts of laughter. “I’ve always been yours.”

  Making it to Grandmama’s front yard, he stopped and removed his arm, letting me slide down his front, the beads and lace of my dress scraping against the softness of his tux.

  Once we were face to face, he sunk his hand into my hair and pulled my head back, lips hovering just above mine. “Say it again.”

  My hands slid into his jacket, stopping to rest on his sides. “I said,” I whispered, inhaling his minty exhale. “That I’ve always been yours. Just as you’ve always been mine.”

  The grin that tipped his lips was beautiful.

  And it was all mine.

  “I love you, baby.”

  My eyes slid closed, nose brushing against his. “Y te amo.” And I love you. “With every healed piece of my heart and every mended wound of my soul.”

  I always would too.

  Until my final day.

  James

  My cheeks hurt from smiling.

  Looking back, I don’t have the slightest damn clue how many pictures Grandmama took as the entire family sat on the front porch, Carmen and I center stage, but by the time it was over with, my face felt cracked, and my grandkids were in meltdown mode.

  Hell, I couldn’t blame them much.

  They just wanted cake, same as I.

  And don’t even get me started on Ty, who was in full-blown pout mode. When cake was involved, he was worse than any of the kids.

  “Guapo…”

  I smothered a growl when my wife whispered my name.

  The sensual sound of her voice, combined with the fact that it was my ring that rested on her finger, was nearly my undoing. I was thankful for my family, and I was even more grateful they’d spent the day celebrating our marriage, but all I wanted to do was take my Pixie home.

  To our bed.

  Unfortunately for me, I’d have to wait.

  “Talk to me, baby,” I whispered, hoping to keep our words just between us, however unlikely that may be. “You ready to be done with pictures? If so, I’ll tell the Crazy Old Biddy to wrap it up.”

  My woman looked tired.

  But after the day she’d had, that was understandable. Not only was it our wedding day, but she’d been reunited with her long-lost brother as well. I’d known it was coming and had mentally prepared for it as much as I could.

  But seeing her with Alejandro, a man who was nothing like I’d expected, was a gut punch I never saw coming.

  He just better bring his ass back.

  If he didn’t, it would tear my woman up.

  “I’m perfect. I just need to go use the—”

  The sound of an idling engine caught my attention, pulling it from my wife. When I looked toward the road in the direction it had come from, I spotted a black SUV parked next to the curb in front of Anthony and Shelby’s house.

  “Who the hell is that?” Hendrix asked, speaking the question my mind was already asking. “I’ve never seen that car on this street before.”

  Anthony stood just as a young woman climbed out of the vehicle, shutting the driver’s side door behind her. Hand shielding her face from the afternoon sun, she stared at Shelby’s front porch for a few seconds before turning and looking in our direction.

  “I’m sorry to bother, y’all, but can you tell me if this”—she hooked a finger and pointed back at my daughter’s house—“is 1743? There isn’t a street number on the house or mailbox.”

  Grandmama chose that moment to chime in. “You looking for somebody, darling? ’Cause if you’re one of ‘em door-to-door salesladies, then—”

  “I’m not a saleslady.” The girl’s dark brown hair blew in the slight breeze that stirred. “I’m actually looking for Shelby.” She paused. “Shelby Moretti. Do you know her?”

  Making his way down the steps and through the herd of kids that had gathered on them, Anthony headed toward his house as Shelby stood, her unblinking eyes never deviating from the girl.

  “Shelby is my wife, sweetheart,” Anthony told her, glancing back at his Sunshine. “What’s your name, and what do you need with her?”

  Dropping her hand, the girl pushed her wind-blown hair from her face. Nervously shifting her weight between her feet, she looked from Anthony to Shelby, following the visual path Anthony’s eyes had just taken, where they then stayed locked on my daughter.

  “My name is Hadley.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “And I’m her sister.”

  She scrunched her pretty face.

  “Well, one of them.”

  Series Epilogue

  Grandmama

  Fifteen Years Later

  This is unacceptable.

  Absolutely un-dang-acceptable.

  “Why in the name of sweet baby Jesus is there a layer of dust half an inch thick on my pictures?” Eyes narrowing, I glare at each of the photos that hang along my hallway, all housed in fancy-schmancy frames, as I continue to talk to myself. “Lord have mercy, I just dusted last week!”

  Reaching into the tote that hangs from the side of my motorized chair, I whip out my fluffy new feather duster. “Guess I’m just gonna have to do it again then.”

  So that’s what I do.

  After popping my earbuds in and hitting the music app the Behemoth downloaded on my phone, so I can listen to Elvis and Johnny Cash whenever I fancy, I do my chores, getting my house downright spiffy like the proper southerner I’ve always been.

  After all, I never know when company might pop in, hankering to be nosy and sit for a spell while sippin’ on some of my famous sweet tea.

  Or my prized white lightning...

  I’ve dusted almost every pictu
re while Jailhouse Rock blasts in my ears when I stop at the very last frame. It hangs by the entry door, front and center.

  When I see it, my old ticker jumps.

  Securing the brake on my chair, I kick the footrests outta the way and stand. I may be older than dirt, but I can still get around; I just need some help from time to time.

  Weathered hands shaking, I trace a fingertip over the stained wood and glass that protects one of my most prized possessions—a family picture I’d taken at Superman and Beauty’s wedding.

  Standing here and seeing each of my grandbabies’ smiling faces as they sat on my front porch all those years ago, surrounding James and Carmen, is just the ticket I need to take a trip or two down memory lane.

  And before I know it, I’m crying.

  Just like a baby.

  I may be prouder than a peacock over the strong and capable adults my grandbabies now are, but it kills me they suffered to get here. Each time I think about all the hurt they’ve had to endure, my ol’ stomach twists and turns.

  Life being that unfair just ain’t right.

  Though, I suppose it all worked out in the end. Especially since all of ‘em got their happily ever after.

  And it all started with Hendrix and Maddie.

  If you’d have asked forty years ago if I could see those two as married with three kids one day, I would’ve told you yes.

  You see, I’d been standing on the porch being my usual nosy rosy self the first time an eight-year-old Hendrix ever laid eyes on my sweet Maddie.

  When he did, I knew…

  I knew I’d one day lose her to him.

  And I did.

  Course, it hadn’t been as bad as I’d expected since Maddie had never abandoned me like I’d feared. Oh no, instead, she’d done the opposite by giving me a family so big I couldn’t fit ‘em all at my supper table anymore.

  Which, speaking of, I guess you might want an update on all of ‘em. Well, I suppose I can do that since I ain’t got nothing but time. So grab ya a fresh drink, maybe a slice of your favorite pie, and come sit with me for a spell.