Page 100 of Resisting Isaac
There’s a lot of emotions and testosterone filling my parents’ cramped living room.
Whatever else it is, Isaac Logan and I are having a baby. We’re going to be a family in our own way. Maybe not the way my family would like or in the chronological order they’d prefer. But our child won’t be any less loved because of it.
My entire life, I’ve taken the brunt of whatever my family and Diego dished out. Alone. Having Isaac here is like having a human shield, or at the very least, a teammate who has my back. It’s a nice feeling, one I can’t help but appreciate.
Without thinking, I slip my hand into Isaac’s large warm one. He gives me a gentle squeeze that would make me smile if not for the circumstances.
Diego tilts his head like he’s been challenged and is contemplating making a scene. But then he looks at me and I give him the most pleading glance I can manage. I’ve had enough drama for one day and I’m tired. Feels like I’m always tired lately.
Diego’s stare drops to my hand in Isaac’s and he takes a step backward. Accepting this for what it is. Finally.
My mother, not so much.
She scoffs loudly. “You think this is real? This baby, this—whatever this is between the two of you? Acting isn’t a career and playing house isn’t a marriage. What you do for a living, it’s a hobby for people who want attention. It doesn’t last when your looks fade. You’re having a baby, mija. Do you have any idea what that will do to your body?”
I open my mouth to argue that plenty of actresses have childrenandsuccessfulcareers, but Isaac beats me to it.
His voice is louder, deeper than before. Thunder rumbling through the house.
“I’ve heard about all of this nonsense that I’m going tolisten to. With all due respect, ma’am, your daughter is a beautiful, brilliant, and resilient young woman. She’s built a career she’s proud of, and I’m proud to know her, to have the privilege of raising a child with her. If you can’t be supportive of her when she needs it, then that’s a damn shame,” he says, voice dropping lower. “Because this woman is stronger than anyone I know. She doesn’t ask for help. She doesn’t even want to take it when it’s offered. And I won’t stand here and let anyone—especiallythe people who claim to love her—tear that down or take any of what she’s accomplished away from her.”
Silence drops like a hammer.
Even Diego doesn’t dare speak.
My father clears his throat. “I am very proud of you, mija” he says, his voice gravelly.
And just like that, I’m five years old again, craving that one line like oxygen.
The visit doesn’t last long after that. Diego excuses himself to make a work call. My father hugs me. My mother pouts on the couch, sniffling like she’s the wounded one.
What’s broken between us can’t be fixed in a day. But when we leave to board Isaac’s plane, my mother’s face softens long enough to hand me a casserole dish, so we at least have dinner on the flight home. She mutters something about herbs and prenatal vitamins, and I hug her despite the hurt between us.
She hugs me back so that’s a start.
The return flight to Montana is quiet. Sky bathed in sherbet pinks and purple hues, the hum of the engine steady. Like the man beside me.
He doesn’t say anything derogatory about my family.
Doesn’t brag about putting anyone in their place.
Doesn’t gloat or make jokes. Doesn’t poke fun at my family or our culture or even give me a hard time when I admit that I did, in fact, hook up with Diego one disastrous time.
He just flies me home like I’m precious cargo.
And it’s then that I realize, the place I consider home has changed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
isaac
Triple Creek Ranch
Paradise Valley, Montana
Elena has been quiet since we landed.
Not the guarded kind of quiet, like when she first got here. Not the kind that keeps people out.
