Wrecked (Dirty Air Series Book 3)

I wake up and get dressed so I can visit Abuela. The new facility I put her in when I started working with Jax is only a few minutes’ walk away. Everything about the place is convenient, and I’ll miss it when my funds run out and I have to move her. Consistency is essential for people like Abuela, and it kills me to disrupt her life yet again.

I walk into the building and greet the staff. One of the managers calls my name, asking me to come to his office.

A bunch of scenarios run through my head as to what he wants from me. Year after year I received disappointing news about Abuela, and I’m afraid this is no different. He points me in the direction of an empty chair as he takes a seat across from me.

“So, Ms. Gonzalez, I’m sorry to call you in before you could see your grandmother, but I didn’t want to miss you.”

“Is she okay?”

“Oh, yes. I didn’t mean to cause you any alarm. She is doing fine and is rather happy here. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

I relax in my seat as my heart rate slows down. “Oh, good. I was worried something happened.”

“If anything were to happen, we would give you a call and have you come down here right away.”

Right. Way to jump to conclusions. I nod.

“I know we discussed the breakdown of fees before you had to travel. I wanted to let you know that the remainder of your grandmother’s stay has been covered.”

My jaw drops open. “The remainder? But I don’t know how long that is.”

I do the math in my head, wondering who would donate that much money. The only person I deem sneaky enough to do this plan is one of London’s richest non-royal citizens.

The very one who broke my heart only a few weeks ago.

I run a shaky hand over my mouth, processing the breakdown of fees the manager shows me. When I ask who donated the funds, he replies that he can’t say.

Why would Jax do this? Why would he want to help me after he said he wants nothing to do with me? This type of donation is not what someone does when they don’t want to see someone again.

The only type of question that keeps popping up in my head is why.

Why this?

Why does he still care?

Why did he let me go?

Why didn’t he love me enough to share his burden with me?

I say goodbye to the manager and walk up the steps to visit my grandma. Her frail body sinks into the bed. It pains me to see her shallow cheeks and sunken eyes as she looks over at me with glossy pupils.

I take my usual seat next to her and tug her hand into mine. “Hola, como te andas?”

“Marisol, no me gusta la ultima doctora. She poked me with a needle. I want to go home.”

I shake my head and sigh, wishing Abuela would remember me once. Tears fill my eyes as I take on the role of my mother. Every painstaking minute drains my energy, but I hold true to my promise to visit her.

Even when she doesn’t remember me.

Even when she gets angry because of her situation and yells that I’m leaving her to rot in some nursing home.

Even when my heart breaks day after day when I visit, hoping she might remember me, even for a second.

I do my family duty, carrying the burden. My parents would have done the same and tenfold. Shelving my sadness, I enjoy the time I have with Abuela until the nurses tell me visiting hours are over.

I rise from my chair and stretch my aching legs.

“Marisol, are you coming tomorrow?”

“Si, como no.” I lean over and kiss the top of her head before exiting her room.

My heart stops. My feet stop. Everything around me stops.

Vera leans against the wall, tapping her cane to the beat of the clock above her. She offers me a tight smile. “Elena.” The skin around her eyes wrinkles, reflecting the sadness etched in her gaze.

“Vera?”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I look over her glossy blonde hair and porcelain skin. “You’re pale and all, but no. I’m shocked you’re here. How did you even know I was here?”

“I have my sources.”

“Are you the one who paid for my grandma to stay here indefinitely?”

Vera smiles. “I prefer my donations to remain anonymous. Showing off is so passe.”

“Are you behind my new job and bonus check, too?”

She shakes her head in disagreement. “I can only assume that was because of another Kingston. I may be fabulous, but even my power has its limits.”

An unrestrained laugh escapes me.

“Come, let’s take a walk.” She offers me her elbow.

I interlock my arm with hers as I fist my sweaty palm. “As nice as this surprise is, what are you doing here?”This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“I’m doing my motherly duty.”

“For Jax?” My words reflect the confusion no doubt etched in my face.

“For you.” She remains silent after that.

I process her words as we exit Abuela’s facility. The late October sun shines down on us as we stroll toward the coast. Vera picks a spot near the jagged shore, giving us a good view of the Mediterranean Sea.

We both sit together on a bench, similar to our chat in London all those months ago.

“I’m here both for my own selfish reasons and because I think you could use some motherly advice. Your mum was taken from you at such a young age. I can’t imagine the kind of pain you’ve dealt with, and the struggles you have now with your grandma. To be young yet carry such a big responsibility on your shoulders must be exhausting.”

I nod. “The selfish part of me is so tired of it.”

“It’s not the selfish part, it’s the human part. And that’s what makes you genuine.”

I drop my head and focus on my hands fisted in my lap. “Some days it’s hard to visit her.”

“Because she thinks you’re her daughter?”

I swallow to combat the dryness in my throat. “You heard?”

Vera grabs onto my hand in a motherly gesture I crave, reminding me of her trembles. “I didn’t know her condition was this severe.”

“It is what it is.” I shrug.

“Oh, cut that toxic positivity out. You don’t need to be strong all the time. Tell me how you honestly feel.”

“Lonely. So freaking lonely I cry myself to sleep some nights.” With Elías traveling and Abuela in the state she is in, I feel deprived of affection to the point that it suffocates me like the dark I despise with everything in me.

She shakes her head and pats my hand. “My son is an idiot. A selfless idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.”

The mere mention of Jax has me bristling.

“I want to tell you a story, but you have to promise to listen until the end. Don’t interrupt until I’m finished.”

My brows pinch together as I consider what kind of story she wants to share. Probably something about Jax that will tempt me to break down in front of his mom. But Vera deserves my respect and time, so I nod in agreement despite my brewing emotions.

“I found out about my condition a few months after I gave birth to Jax. When my grandfather was diagnosed with Huntington’s Disease, my parents sent me a courtesy letter about it. No phone call, no greeting, no congratulations on giving birth to a child. Only a basic letter wishing me well and suggesting that I should get tested in case I carry the gene.” Vera’s voice cracks.

She continues, clutching onto my hand harder. “I couldn’t wrap my head around that kind of diagnosis. I was newly married and just had a child. But when I found out about my grandfather, it was as if my world paused. Zack was my only support system as I navigated through the process of meeting with a genetic counselor. The only reason I went through the testing in the first place was because of my son. I could have lived a happy life not knowing about something I wouldn’t encounter until an older age, but I knew my son deserved to know. That he deserved to enjoy every moment I could offer him before my disease started taking its toll.”

She lets out a ragged breath. “It was the hardest decision I ever had to make. When I found out I carried the gene, I got angry and then I got depressed. Zack was there for me every step of the way, ensuring I had someone on my side. And oh God, Zack was barely an adult himself. His career was starting to pick up in the boxing scene, and here I was, a new wife and a new burden for him. The news of my diagnosis and the post-labor hormones caused me to fall into depression. A deep, dark, lonely place filled with self-doubt and hatred. For myself, for my situation, for the odds I stacked against my newborn son without knowing it.

“I was barely living. Barely even breathing, but I made sure to carry out my basic motherly duties. One day Zack held our son out to me and, dear God, I still remember his speech to this day. I swear his words wrote themselves on my heart and never left. Zack said, ‘The sun might seem as if it stops shining from time to time because of a cloud or a rainstorm or the nighttime, but it’s still there. It endures everything to nurture the lives that depend on it. You’re my sun. I don’t care if you’re hidden because of a storm or the end of the fucking world. I can’t live without you, and I can’t imagine a world where my son would want to either.’” A couple of tears escape Vera’s eyes. I wrap my arms around her and give her a hug, still not speaking like she asked because she needs to get this out.

“I stopped shining. I stopped living. I allowed a diagnosis that wouldn’t affect me for years to suck up my happiness like a vacuum. But Zack’s kindness and my love for Jax got me out of it, along with therapy. And you might be wondering why I’m telling you any of this, but I swear it is important.”

She lets out a deep sigh. “I understand my son more than anyone else. He might be built like his father, but he has every ounce of my heart. He pushed you away rather than keep you to himself. It took him years to agree to a genetic counselor the first time, but after less than a season with you, he was willing to do the process all over again. A light I hadn’t seen in him since he was younger was finally lit again. He wanted a future that was different than the one he made up in his head about him living by himself for the rest of his life.”

Everything in my body tightens. I’m afraid of what she will say next, but I wait with bated breath for her to continue.

Her voice cracks. “As his mother, I was worried when he asked about testing again. How could I not be? I prayed day after day he would receive the news he so desperately needed and craved. Except he didn’t get the news we were all hoping for.” The few tears Vera shed turn into a waterfall down her cheeks. My face mimics hers, and I don’t try to brush them away. “It kills me to know my son has Huntington’s Disease because of me. Him destroying his future with you stole a bit of my soul because of the pain he experienced doing it. I hate seeing my son devastated over not being with the person he loves. I don’t want that for him.”

Jax has Huntington’s Disease? My heart doesn’t ache, it explodes in my chest like a bomb. Everything around me drains of color as I stare at his mother, desperate for this to all be a joke.

“He was diagnosed?” The words leave my lips in a whisper.

She bobs her head up and down. “God, I wish it weren’t the case.”

We cry together, hugging one another. Tears run down my cheeks as I think of everything Jax did to push me away. I cry for him and for his future he desperately wanted to escape from.

She pulls out of my arms, only to clutch my hands in hers. “I love my son with everything in me, so I came here to ask you to forgive him. He wasn’t in a good place when he said those things to you, and he only said them to make you hate him. I can’t sit back and watch him become a shell of someone I barely recognize because he denied himself his chance at love. He deserves the sun, no matter how much he hides from it and lives in the shadows. Be that for him. Get him out. Have it in your heart to fight for him even when he believes whole-heartedly, he doesn’t deserve it. Love isn’t easy, and I’m not here to tell you that your love story will be like that. But I can promise you that my son is single-handedly one of the best men I know, and it’s not because I raised him. The actions he took to protect you after pushing you away speak more about his character than anything I could say. He’s loyal to you, even when apart.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” I brush the tears off my cheeks.

Pain grips onto my chest like rusty claws. The fact that Jax will shoulder another burden in addition to his anxiety…I can’t bear the thought of him being in agony.

“My son did the hardest thing I think anyone can do. He broke the heart of the woman he loves to protect her—to give her a chance at her own happiness, no matter how much it deprived him of his. And while I feel guilty he upset you, I won’t deny how I’m proud of him. I raised him to care more about other people than himself, and that to me is a win. So, please, have it in your heart to forgive him. Fight for him like my husband fought for me. Show him that the sun doesn’t stop shining, even on the worst of days.” She squeezes my hand before letting go.

“What if he rejects me again?”

“He might.” Her lips press together in a thin line. “But I think the second question you should ask yourself is, ‘What if he accepts you, screwed up future and all, because he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it?’”

And like that, Vera and I stare out into the ocean, both in our own worlds.

I come to the realization that not every love story is written the same way. From the start, Jax and I were never meant for any basic ending with the boy chasing the girl into the sunset. In our story, I’m the one who needs to embrace the dark to pull him out and save him. From our past. For our future. And most of all, for the love I know is stronger than any shitty diagnosis or anxiety.

I don’t need a happy ending. I need our ending. The one that might be messy and imperfect, but exclusively ours.

And it’s about damn time I go and fight for what I know is rightfully mine.