Page 55 of Nocturnal Sins
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Santana
It felt weird walking into the house after being banned for a week. I’d already begun to feel like an outsider. I still went to the restaurant with Pop during the day and at night but we avoided talking as much as possible unless it was about the business.
Sammie locked her slender pinkie with mine and squeezed. With that one tiny gesture, she managed to leach the reluctance from my body. She was magic.
“Sam, is that you?” Pop called out. It sounded like he was in the kitchen so we headed that way. It was one of the rare times he was home in the middle of the day and not at the restaurant.
When we swung around the corner, side-by-side, I saw him stiffen a bit. My hackles rose immediately. Tension pulled my muscles tight until Sammie squeezed me with that perfect fucking pinkie of hers. I exhaled and sat at the kitchen table.
“You said help you understand, right, Papa?” Sammie said, her chin jutting out in a silent act of defiance. I watched her big olive green eyes sear into Pop. His shoulders drooped a bit then he patted his pockets until he retrieved a pack of cigarettes.
Haze filled the air once the flame from the lighter died. “Yeah,” he said somberly. “Help me understand this shit.” His eyes darted to mine.
“We’re in love. What is there to understand?” My words leaped from my mouth without permission but I wasn’t mad at it.
“I need to understand how the fuck you can grow up with Samira and call her your sister, treat her like blood and then sleep with her!” Pop’s voice was a single note of anger and frustration.
“Because shit changes. People change and so do relationships, Pop.” My voice joined in the chorus, deep and gravelly. “We’re not little kids now. We’re also not blood siblings.” I pointed out for maybe the hundredth fucking time.
He rolled his eyes at my declaration and threw in a scoff for good measure. The tension in my muscles was back, sinking in like liquid cement. I stood to my feet and stalked back and forth while Pop took pull after pull from his cigarette until it was nothing.
Sammie slid her hands down her thighs and shook the nerves from her hands before speaking. “Can we all just calm down?”
“I’m calm,” Pop lied, popping the joints in his neck. I watched him through narrowed eyes. I was on high alert.
“No you’re not, and neither are you, Santana,” Sammie chimed in. I knew that sharp tone in her voice, she wasn’t about to let either one of us leave that damn kitchen until shit was patched up. It didn’t have to be pretty and seamless but it had to at least stop the hemorrhaging.
The kitchen felt like it was littered with landmines. All three of us were doing an intricate dance so we didn’t blow ourselves to pieces. Sammie’s eyes flitted over my body when I folded my arms and I saw a lingering spark there. Honestly, I was lingering on her too.
Her smooth tawny skin and shiny golden hair made her sparkle and even in the midst of the heated conversation we were wrapped up in, I wanted to be near her sunshine. My feet subconsciously moved a few inches closer.
She smelled like sunbeams and fresh water.
“Papa, I know this isn’t how you want things.” She took a single step toward him and her very presence thawed the old man’s icy exterior. “We all need to figure out how to respect one another. You don’t have to like our relationship but at least respect it.” I watched her slender throat dip when she swallowed back her nerves. I was proud of her though because even when she was scared and nervous, she spoke her mind. She stood up for what she wanted and didn’t cower under Pop’s heavy expectations.
My girl was coming into her own and it made her even more stunning than she already was.
“You have to understand that this isn’t what I wanted for you. For either of you.” His nostrils flared out as his eyes turned to steely points.
“Papa, this is not about what you want for me or Santana!” Her voice squeaked on the way out but she still held her ground. I latched on to her pinkie and she steadied her breathing. “For once, this is about what we want. WhatIwant. I want Santana. I love him so fucking much my chest feels like it wants to split open because I’m incapable of housing so much love.
I don’t want you to condone or give permission or any of that. I want your respect. You can hate the thought of us together all day but that’s the thing, Papa…you don’t have to love us being together. We do.”
“Mija…” Pop’s voice was pained. He reached out to her and scooped her hand into his, pressing his lips gingerly to her knuckles.
“I’m serious,” she said. “I don’t want us to be at odds but if you won’t respect what I have with Santana then we’ll have to be at odds.”
“Mijo, how can I still call you my son if you’re with Samira?” He asked me like he was genuinely trying to wrap his head around it all. I didn’t have a concrete answer for him because all of it was new for me too. I shrugged my shoulders and raked my fingers through my hair.
“I can’t give you the answer to that Pop. If you want to put our family back together then we have to take things one step at a time.” It was the only thing I could think to tell him. Pop massaged a spot on his chest as if he was trying to rub away the heartache.
“I want to make my own decisions, Papa. Not just about Santana but everything. School too. I want to choose what I do…good, bad, or indifferent. If I make mistakes, so what? They’re mine to make. I just want you to respect that. To respect this…” She gestured between herself and me then moved to my side, nestling perfectly beneath my arm.
After a long, tense silence that seemed as if it would never fucking end, Pop bowed his head and nodded. “Okay. I hear you two. I don’t understand it but I hear you. Being stubborn might feel justifiable but it hurts like hell when the consequence is being shut off from your family. All I really want is us back.”
“Me too,” Sammie sniffled.
