Cherish Hard
Page 67

“Hey,” she said when he went quiet, “don’t think you’re done yet. Keep on talking.”
God, he was crazy about her. “After Dad came into our life, I never really felt the need to look at photos of Brian. Dad was the one who was there for us, the one who did my homework with me, the one who held my hand when we crossed the road.” Joseph Esera had shown Sailor what it meant to be a real father, what it meant to show up and do the job with love and a quiet strength that told Sailor it was okay to lean on him when he needed it.
“But,” he continued, “then we did this family-history class in high school, and I decided to open up that can of worms.” As far as life decisions went, it hadn’t been one of his best. “I found a picture of Brian from when he and Mom first got married. It was like looking at an older reflection of myself.”
Sailor could still remember his dawning sense of rage. “Gabriel has the black hair, but he’s got our mother’s eyes. As for my brother’s build, I don’t know where that came from.” A grin born of old memories. “I used to say he took all the good food in the womb, leaving me the scraps.”
Ísa wrinkled up her nose. “You’re not exactly small.” Her hands on his shoulders, massaging with a proprietary touch that gave him hope. “What are you? Six two?”
“Good guess.” Only next to Gabe’s six five did he look in any way short. “I guess from your point of view, shorty, I’m a giant.”
Ísa poked him in the arm. “I’m a respectable five six, I’ll have you know.” The words were followed by a scowl. “So you look like him. It doesn’t mean you’re in any way who he was.”
“It’s not just that,” Sailor said. “I remember a lot of things from my childhood before he left. More than usual when you consider I was only five when he took off.” He’d never told anyone else the depth of his memories, not even Gabe.
“Not surprising.” She kissed him, tender and affectionate, his Ísa looking after him as she looked after all her people. “That was a dramatic time in your life.”
Sailor decided that if it turned out he had to fight dirty to keep her, he’d fight dirty. Even if it meant admitting to his most pitiful emotions and stripping himself bare. “Sometimes I feel like I’m picking up the memories brick by brick and looking at them. And what I see is that I have so many pieces of him in me.” He began to play with a lock of Ísa’s hair. “I almost didn’t become a gardener.”
Ísa’s eyebrows drawing together over her eyes. “But you love it so much.”
“He didn’t work much—Gabe remembers more, tells me Brian was always more interested in get-rich-quick schemes, the next big score,” Sailor said, wondering if Gabriel truly had conquered his own demons when it came to their father; he was Brian’s oldest son, after all, and they’d had a different relationship than Sailor had had with Brian.
His brother was so tough and so together that it was hard to think of him as a child, especially when he’d always been Sailor’s rock. “I remember holding tight to Gabe’s hand the day we were evicted. I was so scared, but I saw that Gabe wasn’t crying, so I didn’t either.”
Ísa’s lips curved. “I can just see you, two tough little men. That must’ve helped your mom so much when she was fighting to fix things.”
Sailor hadn’t felt so tough back then, but Ísa’s words showed him a new way to look at the terrible memories so they weren’t about abandonment but about love and strength and being family.
Yeah, he wasn’t about to let go of his redhead. Not ever.
“The odd times when Brian did work,” he continued, returning back to what he’d started to say, “it was often for landscaping companies. He gave me a child-sized spade a couple of months before he left. Mom likes gardening too, but I’ve always associated it with him.” With the man who’d left his family behind. That choice, Sailor might’ve one day forgiven, but to clean out the accounts so that his wife and children didn’t even have enough money for food? Who did that?
And how did a man get past such a vile genetic legacy?
“But one day,” Sailor said, curling Ísa’s hair around his finger, “I decided the dream was mine. He’d stolen so much from us—I wouldn’t let him steal this too.” He looked into the soft, moon-washed gray-green of Ísa’s eyes. “Do you see?”
Expression gentle and her heart unhidden, Ísa said, “You need to do this yourself, because your father took and took. It’s not rational and maybe it’s not even sensible, but it’s important to you.”
He shuddered because he was a fucking lucky man; she got it. Got him.
“Your parents and brothers love you,” she said decisively. “Involve them in nonfinancial ways and I think they’ll be happy. Talk to them about choices you need to make for the business, ask for feedback. And keep on accepting the frozen dinners and grocery deliveries.”
There she went, being Ísa again. Looking out for everyone but herself.
Well, fuck that. If she wouldn’t do it for herself, he’d do it for her.
“You know how I said there were two things?”
She nodded.
Taking a deep breath, Sailor decided to lay himself at her feet. “I was imagining the future and thinking of how if everything went according to plan, I’d have a very successful business with a high turnover.”
He made sure his hands were locked behind Ísa’s back—just in case she decided to leave him in her dust a fourth time. “And since I’d be rich, I’d be able to buy houses and other nice things for my family.”
Ísa frowned. “I don’t think your family expects that.”
“They don’t exactly need my largesse either,” Sailor muttered. “But in my future fantasy, I’m buying everyone fancy cars and houses. Go with it.”
Ísa’s lips twitched. “Okay, big spender. What else is fantasy Sailor doing?”
“He’s building a ginormous mansion. Swimming pool, tennis court, the works.”
“Is he hiring a buff personal masseuse named Sven?”
“Hell no.” He glared at her. “The masseuse is a fifty-year-old former bodybuilder named Helga. Now, can I carry on?”
Pretending to zip up her lips and throw away the key, Ísa made a “go on” motion.
“Future Sailor is also creating a huge walk-in closet for you and filling it with designer shoes and clothes. He’s giving you everything your heart desires.”
A flicker of darkness in Ísa’s gaze, but she didn’t interrupt… though her hands went still on his shoulders.
“And there’s a tricked-out nursery too,” he added. “Plus a private playground for our rug rats.”
Throat moving, Ísa said, “How many?” It was a husky question.
“Seven, I think.”
“Very funny, mister.”
“I’m not done.” Sailor was the one who swallowed this time. “And in this fantasy house, future Sailor walks in late for dinner again because of a board meeting, and he has a gorgeous, sexy, brilliant wife and adorable children. But his redhead doesn’t look at him the same anymore. And it doesn’t matter how many shoes he buys her or how many necklaces he gives her, she’s never again going to look at him the way she did before he stomped on her heart.”