Page 3 of Hearts to Mend

CHAPTER 2

RICO

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“Did the school finally reach you?”

“The school?” I blink at Gloria, the Krause Gazette receptionist for the last fifteen years.

She looks frazzled, as usual, with two different colored pins sticking out of a messy bun on the top of her head. “About Mateo’s accident.”

“Mateo had an accident?” Now I’m frazzled. My blood runs cold, my heart plummets to my feet, and my head spins with panic.

Fumbling for the phone in my pocket, I remember the requirement to put it on silent during the new-employee orientation session with human resources. Getting it out, I glance at the screen, and my panic worsens.

Eight missed calls. Fuck.

I listen to the first message, time-stamped from almost an hour ago. “Hello, this message is for Ricardo Rodriguez. This is Principal Delores Strahan calling from Navarro Elementary School. At recess today, Mateo fell on the playground, and we fear he may have broken his arm. We’ve called 911, and they are—”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

Gloria frowns at me, but I don’t have time to concern myself with her delicate sensibilities. In a matter of seconds, I’m out the front door and across the blacktop, practically sliding over the hood of my Charger like I’m in an episode of The Dukes of Hazzard. Once I’m in, engine revved, I gun it out of the lot toward the hospital.

I can’t believe I didn’t check my phone. What kind of shitty father doesn’t regularly check his phone? My boy needed me. He’s hurting and alone, and I’ve neglected him. Jesus, I’m no better than his mom.

Parking quickly at the hospital, I jog inside to address the woman at the front desk. “My son came in from the elementary school. His name is Mateo Rodriguez—”

“Oh, yes, such a little sweetheart and cute as a button,” the woman says.

I wait for her to say more, trying to remind myself this isn’t the city—every conversation takes a little bit longer here—but when she still doesn’t tell me where to find Mateo, I ask, “Can I see him?”

“Sure. Just need to see some ID.”

I hand over my license, bouncing impatiently from foot to foot as she inspects my identity. Finally, she calls over a nurse to escort me to Matty’s room.

Matty startles, mid-laughter, as I burst through the door and come at him, touching every inch of his head and shoulders, checking for injuries behind his ears. He doesn’t seem to have a scratch on him except for the red plaster cast coating his left arm from knuckles to elbow.

“I just got the message that you were hurt. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, big guy. Are you okay?”

Matty lets me smother him in a hug, but eventually he wiggles free and points across the room. “I’m okay, Daddy. Dee kept me company. She’s funny.”

I nod—glad he wasn’t alone—then stop. Everything stops. Inside me, my heart, my lungs, my brain… It all stops. Did he say Dee? As in my Dee?

Someone clears their throat, and before I can fully process my thoughts, I hear her voice for the first time in eight years. “Well, kiddo, now that your dad is here, I’ll get going. You take care, buddy.”

That voice. God, I’ve missed her voice.

There were times when the sound of her voice—soft, sweet, and a little raspy—was the only thing that could soothe me. Of course, there were other times when she could cut me to the quick with a single word.

I’ve missed it all, both her soft words and her sharp ones. I’ve missed everything about her, from her laughter to the way she butchered Spanish to the sound of her sighs when I touched her just right. I miss the taste of her—

“Bye, Dee, I’ll see you tomorrow.” My son waves at the person behind me, and only then do I muster the courage to turn and look.

There, standing in front of the chair in the corner of the room—which I’d passed without notice on my way to Matty’s bedside—is the first woman I ever loved. By most measures, the only woman I’ve ever loved.

All the air rushes out of my lungs as I take in the sight of her. Dee was hot in high school, with long blond hair, gorgeous green eyes, and legs for days. But now, all grown up, she takes my breath away. Even in her work pants and fire department T-shirt, she’s stunning.

I stand there staring at her like an idiot. I should probably say something, but what?

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