Page 31 of Decked By The Grumpy Golem
Ernesto's expression doesn't soften. If anything, it hardens further. "Maybe the problem isn't what you did. Maybe it's what you didn't do."
The words hit because they're probably true. I should have told her how I felt before she had the chance to run. Should have explained everything, laid my heart bare instead of assuming she'd somehow understand through osmosis.
"Then let me fix it," I say, my voice rough with desperation. "Let me talk to her. Please."
"No." The word is final, absolute. "My daughter will see you if and when she wants to. In the meantime, you’ll just have to stay away."
"You're right," I say quietly, and Ernesto blinks in surprise. "I don't deserve her. I never have. But I love her, Mr. Reyes. I've loved her since we were kids, and I'll love her until the day I die. That has to count for something."
For a moment, his stern expression wavers. Then he shakes his head and turns toward the door.
"Love isn't enough if you can't fight for it," he says over his shoulder. "Good night, Gideon."
The door closes with a soft click that sounds like a death knell. I stand there for a long moment, snow falling around me, feeling like the biggest failure in the history of mankind.
He’s right. Lucia has every right to stay away from me. She owes me nothing, not even an explanation. But then I remember the way she looked at me last night. The way she whispered my name like a prayer. The way she fit perfectly in my arms, like she was made to be there.
I walk down the porch and back to my car, then turn to take a last look at her house. My eyes stray to the window at the back left corner of the house on the second floor, where a warm light glows behind familiar curtains. The window is barely visible next to an ancient oak tree we used to climb as children. I know that window. I’ve climbed up and down that tree hundreds of times.
That’s Lucia's bedroom window. The same window I used to throw pebbles at when we were teenagers, the same tree I used to climb to sneak over and see her.
Before I can think about how utterly insane this plan is, I'm trudging around to the back of the house, scooping up a handful of snow as I go. The old oak tree still stands sentinel beside her window, its bare branches reaching toward the glass like gnarled fingers.
I pack the snow into a loose ball and lob it gently at the window. It hits with a soft thud, leaving a white splatter against the glass.
Nothing.
I try again, this time with better aim. The snowball hits dead center, and after a moment, the curtains twitch.
Then the window slides open, and Lucia appears, her dark hair falling around her shoulders like a silk curtain. Even from here, I can see that her eyes are red-rimmed from crying, and the sight makes my chest ache.
"Go home, Gideon," she calls down, her voice sharp with hurt and anger. "I don't want you here."
"I'm not leaving," I call back, my breath forming clouds in the cold air. "Not this time."
She shakes her head, starting to close the window, and desperation makes me do something spectacularly stupid. I grab hold of thenearest branch and start to climb, just like I used to when we were sixteen and the world was full of possibilities. I’m vaguely aware of her sounds of concerned protest as I shift my weight on the large branch that hovers right outside her window.
That branch holds for exactly three seconds before it snaps with a crack like a gunshot.
I go down hard, landing in a snowbank with a thud that knocks the wind out of my lungs. Snow explodes around me, and for a moment I just lie there, stunned and winded, staring up at the dark winter sky.
"Gideon!" Lucia's cry cuts through the night air, and I hear her window slam shut.
Within seconds, the front door bursts open. Ernesto and Mateo storm out, their faces thunderous, while Martha and Mara follow behind, shepherding the wide-eyed twins. Lucia runs straight to where I'm sprawled in the snow, her expression torn between fury and worry.
"Are you insane?" she demands, dropping to her knees beside me. Her hands flutter over my chest, checking for injuries. "What were you thinking?"
I struggle to sit up, snow sliding off my shoulders. "I was thinking that I'm tired of being a coward," I say, looking directly at her. "I'm tired of letting fear make my decisions for me."
"Gideon."
"No," I interrupt, getting to my feet with her help. "Let me say this. All of it. In front of everyone. And if you still want me to leave, then I will leave and I’ll never come back."
I turn to face the assembled crowd. Lucia’s parents, her brother and sister-in-law, the twins peeking out from behind Mara's legs. Taking adeep breath, I let the words I've been holding back for ten years finally spill out.
I tune them all out. All that matters is Lucia, so I focus only on her.
"I knew you were my mate since we were seven years old," I begin, my voice carrying clearly in the cold air. "When we were kids, I thought I had all the time in the world to figure out how to tell you. Then my father died, and suddenly I was responsible for everything. The business, my mother, the legacy he left behind."
