Page 25 of Hearts to Mend

“Because I have something to say.”

Dee grumbles, but she gives me a moment to talk.

I use my moment efficiently, saying what’s at the top of my mind. “I never stopped loving you.”

Dee groans. “You married another woman.”

“I fucked another woman and got her pregnant, so we got married. There’s a difference. She hates you, by the way, calls you ‘the ghost’ because you haunted our marriage.”

Now she’s really frowning. “Don’t blame me for—”

“I’m not blaming you for anything. It was all me. I fucked it all up. I left my heart with you. I was the one haunted by you. I still am. I could never stop thinking about you, missing you. Every single morning since the day I shipped out, your face is the one I want to see when I wake up. But you’ve never been there because… I’m a stupid fucking idiot, and I’m filled with regret.

“And worse than any of that, I hurt you. And I can’t take it back. I can’t undo it. You were my person, you know? From the time I was eight, you were the person I cared most about in this world, and I hurt you. And I hate myself for that. I regret it with all my heart.” Shit. I’m tearing up. I sniff and tuck the emotions away as I say what I need to say. “I know I don’t deserve anything from you. I don’t deserve your love or your friendship. I don’t even deserve your time. But I’m begging you for it. I just want to be in your life again, in any way you’ll have me. If all you need is a friend, I can be the best fucking friend you ever had—”

“Shut up!” she yells as tears wet the corners of her eyes. She rubs them away, and her voice turns to an angry whisper. “You weren’t just my best friend, Rico. You were everything. I had no one but you. And then you were just…gone.”

Fuck. I hurt her, so much. And I hate myself for that. I broke both our hearts, beyond repair. Rubbing my eyes and wiping my nose, I try to maintain eye contact as she stares at me, her eyes peering through me.

After a moment, she speaks again, saying, “I want you to leave. And I want you to leave me alone.”

Feeling raw and ripped apart, I wipe more wetness from my eyes and turn to go.

“Your mom and Matty can stay though.”

I nod, grinning just a little at that. Out in the hall, I worry that Matty and mamá, who look concerned, heard some of our conversation. I crouch and give Matty a hug. “I need to go to work today, buddy. I have to write about last night’s fire. But we’ll hang out tonight, okay?”

Matty searches my face with worried eyes.

I give him a wide smile, trying to hide behind it as I nod over my shoulder toward Dee’s room. “Take care of her, okay, big guy? And don’t forget to sign her cast.”

Mamá encourages Matty to go into Dee’s room while she stays out in the hall with me, that stern-Mom-look on her face. “What are you doing, mijo?”

“I love her, mamá. I always have. Last night cemented that for me.”

“Don’t you hurt her again, Ricardo Ignacio CastroRodriguez. ¿Comprendes?”

“I’ll do everything in my power not to. If anyone’s going to get hurt this time, it’ll be me.”

“Which worries me too.”

I’m not sure what to say to her. I can’t promise anything. I broke two hearts with that awful letter home from the front. Is there still a chance to mend us both, or are we broken beyond repair?

CHAPTER 11

DEE

* * *

Every Sunday, the Krause Gazette publishes their weekly paper. Thick with coupon inserts and local news, it’s the only print item they put out. Like most small-town newspapers these days, the Gazette can’t afford to print more than once a week, but it’s a “weekly with a website”—as they like to call themselves—and I’ve been on that website every day for the last two weeks, reading every single word Rico writes.

Earlier this morning, the print edition hit my door with a thump, and I unfolded it over the kitchen table so I could read Rico’s headline story as I ate my breakfast. It was another installment of his in-depth exposé into negligence and fraud at the Stonehaven Court apartment complex. In the two weeks since the fire, he’s managed to uncover countless incidences of mismanagement, as well as neglect of safety concerns and maintenance. Turns out, the fire that resulted in nearly two million dollars in damages and displaced seven residents was caused by ants. I’ve known for some time that ants can be a major fire hazard when they swarm electrical equipment, but I’ve never seen it so spectacularly illustrated before the Stonehaven fire.

I’ve learned a lot about the fire from Rico’s stories. Like, how the landlords ignored multiple complaints from tenants experiencing electrical problems, some even reporting ants coming out of their wall sockets for months before the fire. Calls to exterminators and electricians could have avoided the near-fatal incident, but those calls were never made. And for their negligence, the building’s owner and manager now face criminal charges and multiple lawsuits.

Rico is a superb journalist. He manages to convey information about complex legal matters and archaic building code bylaws with efficient, clear language without boring his readers. I didn’t know he had such a talent for writing. Sure, his letters home from the front had proper spelling and grammar, but he’s grown into quite the eloquent wordsmith since—

“Ricky Ricardo sure is a talented writer, ain’t he?” Dad elbows me in the side, and I try to surreptitiously fold The Rusty Bucket’s copy of the Gazette back up and push it away from me.

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