Page 58 of Before the Storm

I nodded, grateful for their understanding. It felt so good, finally having said those words out loud. “Thank you.”

“Lu.” I turned my body towards the window. Sonia was peeking the upper half of her body from the door to thenurses’ lounge, a wild smile on her face and her eyes doubled in size with mischief. “Come here.”

I blinked at her, logging off of the computer and walking in her direction. I was sure I looked confused, my brow furrowed and my gaze narrowed in suspicion. If she was smiling like that, it couldn’t be wholesome.

There were a few nurses and two doctors huddled around the lounge’s TV, watching the screen like it was feeding their soul. I didn’t blame them—long hours in the hospital and dealing with such complex cases made you cherish every drop of information fromreal life.It was the same in Tres Fuegos.

I’d started work the week after I spoke to Dr. Varela, easing into the job and only taking two twelve-hour shifts a week, with the intention of ramping up into a full-time position by the spring. I still had to figure out what to do with the practice back home, but Dr. Martín had agreed to open the office for me a few times a week, and I was going to start looking for a doctor to take over. Maybe a recent grad from the small towns surrounding Tres Fuegos.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my teeth trapping my lower lip. Sonia tipped her head over in the direction of the TV, the image becoming clearer with every step I took. Francisco was on the screen, smiling sadly and having a conversation with someone I didn’t recognize. I snapped my eyes to Sonia, and she nodded, stepping to the side so I could get closer. One of the nurses was shushing the rest of us, as if we were in a movie theater instead of a hospital lounge.

“He’s doing a live interview,” Sonia whispered, her excitement barely contained. “Just watch.”

I focused on the screen, and Francisco’s voice filled the room. The reporter was asking him about what had happened outside that house the other night. I’d seen the pictures—they were calling it the Gómez Downfall. His responses were measured, thoughtful, and surprisingly sincere.

“I understand that people are curious about my family’s situation,” Francisco said, his face conveying a mix of sadness and resilience. Or at least that was what I thought. Not exactly the man I thought I knew but the most recent iteration, the one dragged down by his own grief. Real, raw. My favorite version yet. “But I want to make it clear that this is a very personal matter. It’s painful, and it’s something we’ve been dealing with privately for over three years.”

The nurses in the room exchanged glances, and Sonia nudged me, her eyes wide with admiration. Francisco’s composure under the scrutiny of the public eye was impressive. It was that switch he turned on, the one that screamed politician. It was probably the same thing his father saw in him, grooming him to follow in his steps. The interview continued, with the reporter trying to dig deeper into the details of the scandal.

His jaw ticked. He looked annoyed at the million and one questions the woman was spewing, his eyes burning with a fire that I didn’t recognize.

“Oh shit,” she said. I had zoned out, focused moreon the sad man on the TV rather than on what he was saying. “She brought up Jazmín.”

“How do they even know?” I asked. Sonia shrugged, then turned back to the TV. Someone found the remote and turned the volume up, his voice clear through the speakers.

“Yes, she was my sister.” Confirmed. “But you’ll have to discuss it with Eugenio because I obviously don’t know the details,” he continued. He swallowed, then glanced to his left, eyeing the reporter cautiously. “I ask that you respect me during this time, that’s all.”

“Oh my god,” I whispered under my breath. The tension in the room escalated as Francisco’s admission hung in the air. The nurses exchanged wide-eyed glances, their hushed whispers forming a background hum to the ongoing interview. Sonia gripped my arm, her excitement now replaced with a mix of shock and anticipation.

“The one thing I’m going to say is that he is not the man he claims he is. He’s selfish and self-centered, and he used his children as pawns for his own personal gain. I’m glad my mother is able to get out of that relationship, and I wish her well,” he added. The reporter opened her mouth but closed it quickly, her hand frozen on her lap, clutching her notecards tightly.

“Anything else you’d like to add?” she asked, blinking rapidly in his direction.

“We can all agree his career is over.”

Mierda.

“Lucía,” Sonia whispered, her tight grip on my forearm. She wore a round-eyed expression, still staring at the TV. “Dios mío,poor kids.”

35

LUCÍA

“Dr. Williams?”Sonia called from outside the attending’s office. Her voice was soft and hushed. Patients were already sleeping right across from where I sat, looking at patient files. The bright screen was hurting my vision. It had been a grueling shift, dealing with two new intakes from the emergency department during the first few hours. We were finally settled, and everything was under control. “There’s a Francisco Gómez Alcorta here to see you.”

She waited for me to look away from my computer, then smiled and winked, moving to the side to let Francisco stand in the doorway. My heart threatened to jump out of my body at the sight of him.

Late last week, Sonia and I had scoured the patient files to see if we could find a note somewhere with Francisco’s phone number. It was hidden deep in one of the doctor’s notes from Jazmín’s first chemotherapysession, probably when she was in her early teens. So Sonia texted him and asked him to come to the hospital. Maybe she had told him I was back or that we found some of Jazmín’s personal effects, but whatever it was, it had worked. I’d been on the lookout for days to see if, ever, he would come back. Like he promised the last time I saw him.

I smiled at him, and his face softened in a way that made my whole body go warm, the color reaching my cheeks. I had never been so happy for the darkness.

“Were you expecting me?” His voice was laced with uncertainty, despite his body saying otherwise. His hands clenched.Open, close. Open, close.I stood from my seat, the chair rolling with the movement and hitting something behind me with a thud. He looked like shit, almost like that day he showed up in the pouring rain with a fever and helped me look for the cat. His eyes were sunken, deep purple rings around them. The scruff on his jaw was proof that the past few weeks had been a shitstorm for him and his family.

I took a deep breath and smiled, taking a tentative step towards him. My body was itching to touch him, to feel the beat of his heart against my ear once again.

“Hi.” It came out shy, like the first time we’d met each other years ago in this same hospital. “How are you?”

There was apprehension all over that handsome face. He rapped the fingers on one hand against his thigh in a loose pattern.Tap, tap tap, tap.But then he smiled, one of those smiles he saved for me. The smile that had saidfuck yeswhen he told me he would be coming back to Tres Fuegos after figuring his things out. The smile that made him look elated. Like nothing else mattered.

---