just like the moon

Javier could hardly wait to see you again since the kiss. He’s been antsy – his daughter even pointed it out. Caffeine has been his holy grail because of it. 

Thoughts of you haunt him at night, leaving him tossing and turning until sunlight peeks in through the curtains. Then he can’t go back to sleep because it’s his week with your daughter. 

He goes through the motions of getting her ready for school; watching her brush her teeth, helping her pick out an outfit, taming her unruly curls, making her breakfast, packing her lunch. After dropping her off, he drives to his father’s ranch to work. 

Since resigning from the DEA, helping out on the ranch has been his only source of income. Although it pays decently, he still feels like the itch for action isn’t being scratched. The adrenaline from his old job is something he longs for every day, but he’s also very aware that it’s the main reason why the two of you drifted apart.

He’d come back to the apartment drained from his day at work. One thing leads to another, and the two of you are arguing for the millionth time that week. He’d push, yelling at you, only for you to push back harder.

He loved the fire you had – he did. But when it came to arguments, you never backed down when it was obvious that he was tired. 

His footsteps would carry him to the bedroom, you tailing on his heels, voice getting louder and louder now that his back is towards you.

During times like these, he regretted getting married to you fresh out of college. The two of you were still babies and didn’t know your position in the world yet. You didn’t hesitate when he asked you to go to Colombia with him, telling him that you’d follow him wherever he wanted you to. He appreciated it at the time, but over time realized that you resented him for uprooting your life before it even got started. 

You never spoke those words outloud, but he knew. It was written all over your face.

Then you got pregnant with your baby girl, keeping it from him for weeks until it wasn’t easy to hide anymore. 

His career was at its peak, the scent trail on Escobar closer than it’s ever been. He wasn’t home, wasn’t present. When he was, the stench of alcohol on his clothes made you gag in your mouth. 

The news hit him like a punch in the gut, his drunken mind not completely processing the pregnancy test you were showing him. His red-rimmed eyes darted back and forth between the word ‘PREGNANT’ and your stomach. 

It wasn’t until your palm splayed against the fabric of your shirt that he breathed, realizing what you were telling him.

He blinked, meeting your teary eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Jav.”

He did what he always did: ran.

According to Steve, he got so wasted that night that he blacked out. Javier obviously doesn’t remember that, but either way, he’s not proud of how he acted.

Now, he stares out at the Rio Grande, watching the same kind of people he used to catch for a living smuggle drugs into the country. Not only did he make a promise to himself that he wouldn’t go back to that life, he made a promise to you and his daughter.

The greenland expands in front of him, water rippling as the men move out in their small boats. 

They’re right fucking there, Javier thinks to himself.

His younger self would’ve already had them cuffed, faced down in the dirt. But he’s not that ambitious 30-something year old anymore. He’s 41, has a child to look after, a house to maintain, family to spend time with, and perhaps a relationship to mend with you.

How fast the two of you went from strangers, to lovers, to enemies gives him whiplash whenever he thinks about everything that went down. You’ve been divorced for a year now, but you haven’t really been a couple for a lot longer than that.

Guess you could blame his job for that.

The old thoughts of his job is something he allows but that’s all they are – visitors rather than something permanent.

“Javier!” his cousin, Ricardo, calls out to him, pulling him from his thoughts.

He turns around, walking up the small hill. “What?”

“A few of the cows got out. We need help herding them.” Ric announces, watching his cousin with narrowed eyes against the harsh Texas sun.

Javier nods, pulling off his work gloves to pocket them.

“You okay?” Ric asks, looking over Javier’s shoulder and spotting what he was staring at. “You know, it’s okay to go back, right?”

He shakes his head faintly at his cousin, clapping the man on the shoulder as he passes him. “C’mon.”

The two of them walk in silence, work boots crunching against the soil as they make their way towards the barn. Chucho owned the biggest plot of land in Laredo, making it difficult to herd the animals once they got out – which was extremely rare.

He can see his other family and ranch hands trying their hardest to get the cows back, only to be met with moos instead of movement. The sight causes a small chuckle to escape his lips despite himself.

You stand in the kitchen of your apartment, hands gripping the edge of the counter. The sink drips every now and then, a reminder that you’ve been meaning to call someone to come fix it, but haven’t because you’ve been so busy and caught up with legal things.

The divorce took a toll on you. Not only did it have to make your child suffer, it had to take your dignity as well. You can hardly remember the last time you felt like yourself, and that’s the last thing you ever wanted.

Dishes that you’ve just washed sit in the right side of the sink, waiting to be rinsed and placed in the dish drain. But you’re too busy reminiscing. 

Liquid courage has been your best friend lately, though it also means that buried feelings tend to come up to make you feel something. You and Javier used to be a picture perfect couple; the one your friends would admire and wish they had for themselves.

It’s a shame that the two of you ended up the way that you did, because you loved how the two of you were in high school and college. You thought the two of you could conquer the world together, get married, have a big family, and live happily ever after.

Life had other plans apparently.

The sexual chemistry between the two of you never left, but it felt more like a fling rather than a marriage. He was always too tired to do anything, and when he did have energy, you felt like the weekend lover you knew he didn’t have. Like you were just something for him to take his frustration out on from work.

You missed having him around so much that you never said anything about how you felt. Because of that, the two of you became strangers living under the same roof.

Now you’re strangers raising a kid together. You’re sure he’s grown as a person, and so have you, even if you don’t necessarily believe it. 

Besides your daughter, therapy has been a big part of your life for the last six years. It’s helped you at least try to come to terms with what happened. Sometimes, people just fall out of love. There’s no way to know or tell. But now Javier wants to rekindle things, and you’re scared of all your progress being reversed if you let him back in again.

After finishing up the dishes, you grab a pint of ice cream from the freezer and plop down on the couch. A commercial fills the TV screen when you turn it on, lighting up the living room in blues and white. You keep the volume low, not really wanting to watch TV but needing something on in the background to distract yourself. 

This has been your night routine when you don’t have your daughter: eating your sorrows when you don’t feel like drinking anymore. 

After you got pregnant, you stopped caring about your body image, which is why you always thought that was one of the reasons why you and Javier drifted apart. The other night, he convinced you that wasn’t an issue though. 

That made you feel a little better.

A part of you will probably always desire affirmations from Javier in whatever form you can get them in.

Is that horrible and toxic?

Perhaps.

But he does the same thing, so does it really matter?

It’s not like the two of you are dating other people.

The sharp shrill of your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, nearly sending you out of your skin for a moment before you pick it up from the coffee table. You hold it between your ear and shoulder, stabbing at your ice cream with a spoon. “Hello?”

“Hi, mama,” your daughter beams on the other end of the line. “I just brushed my teeth.”

At that, you look up at the clock on the wall, realizing that it’s already well past 8PM. “It’s your bedtime already?” you ask, propping your legs up on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, shuffling on the other end, “Daddy says that Tío Luis’ wedding is this weekend. Are we going?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. If you go to the wedding, that means you would have to see Javier and Chucho. But you also don’t want to deprive your little girl of spending time with her family. This isn’t about you – it’s never been about you – it’s always about her and what she wants.

“Yeah,” you start, leaning your head back against the couch, “I’m sure your cousins, tíos, and tías would love to see you.”

“They’d love to see you too, mama,” she states firmly, probably nodding her head.

A faint smile pulls at your lips at her comment, warmth blooming in your chest from your daughter’s reassurance. “Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better, mi amor.”

She giggles, “I know. I’m always right, aren’t I?”

You laugh with her, the conversation continuing about her day at school before she lets out a loud yawn. 

“You don’t have to stay on the phone with me, baby,” you gently say, sitting up to place your now finished ice cream down.

“I’m okay!” she exclaims, clearly not wanting to hang up just yet. “I just miss you.”

Your heart nearly shatters at that. “It’s only been a few days,” you murmur.

She exhales slowly, “I know, but that’s not what I mean. I miss you and dad… together.”

Oh.

Oh.

You take a slow, deep breath, blinking away the sudden tears brimming your eyes. It was obvious how strongly she felt about this entire situation, but you never thought she would just flat out tell you.

“Y’know,” you start, wiping away an unshed tear, “you’re too emotionally intelligent for your age, mi vida.”

“I know,” she sighs, “but I had to be, in order to survive this.”

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Your daughter has rendered you speechless at this point. 

“Sorry, mama,” she mumbles, prompting you to shake your head and stand up.

“No, it’s okay,” you state, rubbing your thumb over your bottom lip – a nervous habit you picked up from Javier way back when. “I’ll speak to him at the wedding, okay?”

Anything to get her to stop talking about it, right?

“Yay!” she beams, pulling a small huff from you. “I think Daddy will be excited to see you. He hasn’t been sleeping much.”

Worry churns in your gut at that, but you focus on her first comment. “You aren’t excited to see me too?” you tease.

She giggles, “Of course I am, mama.” Your daughter goes quiet for a moment, probably chewing on her bottom lip before she speaks up again, “I hope you guys figure things out. I miss how things used to be.”

Your breath catches momentarily, fingers fidgeting with the ends of a throw pillow when you sit back down. This isn’t a conversation you want to have at all, but especially not over the phone. It’ll be discussed when the time is right, and right now, that’s not it.

She truly doesn’t know the worst of what went down between you and Javier. She only saw and knew what the two of you wanted her to.

“Bedtime, mi amor,” you whisper. “I love you.”

You can hear the pout in her voice when she responds, “I love you, too, mama. Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams.”

With that, you hang up the phone, tossing it to the other side of the couch and running a hand down your face.

How are you supposed to face Javier this weekend?

Your love for him has never faded – probably never will. It’s settled deep into your skin, a reminder of the bad decision that you’d make again in a heartbeat.

Javier pulls every button of his red flannel through their designated loops, leaving the top one undone. He’s more nervous than he’d like to admit about seeing you again, leaving his fingers trembling, resulting in it being a little difficult to button up his shirt.

He hasn’t felt like a lovestruck teenager since your wedding. Having it in Laredo, where both of you grew up, made it a lot more intimate and perfect. Not as perfect as how you looked that day but pretty damn close.

It wasn’t anything grand. Fairy lights on his father’s ranch, a wooden dance floor, his drunk cousins promising to protect you as one of their own. 

That was his favorite thing: his cousins always taking care of you when he wasn’t around.

He remembers how scared you were when he was training at the academy. Worried about him getting hurt when you called at the end of the day.

Not getting hurt was always his promise to you. But in the end, he ended up hurting his marriage with you more.

Now he has the opportunity to fix it, and he’s determined not to fuck it up again.

Your therapy sessions have been a pretty big deal to you since then – you’ve always been open about it, not too scared to show vulnerability. And he doesn’t want to reverse any of your progress. 

Besides the few spats the two of you have every now and then, you really have become the best person that he knows. You have been since he met you and it makes him want to do better as well. He knows not to push you, especially when you’re stripping yourself bare in front of him to explain how you’re feeling that day.

Don’t fuck it up, he repeats over and over again in his head, finishing up getting ready before he heads to his daughter’s bedroom.

He knocks three times before he slowly opens the door, peeking his head in. “You just about done in here?” he asks, placing his hands on his hips.

Her face lights up at her father, twirling in her red dress that matches Javier’s shirt. “Ready!”

Javier chuckles fondly, walking deeper into the room when she sits on the edge of her bed. He helps her put on her black boots after she puts on her socks. Her gaze on him is heavy, but he doesn’t say anything until she does.

“Are you nervous to see mama?” she inquires, rocking back and forth in her place.

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, patting her knee once he’s finished putting her shoes on. “Is it obvious?”

“You have that crease,” she points at his forehead, “between your brows.”

Javier relaxes his face at that, realizing that she’s right. “Then I guess I am, mi vida,” he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She smiles softly, the gap from her missing tooth showing. “That’s okay, daddy. I get nervous sometimes, too.”

He shakes his head slowly, awe spreading across his face as he stares down at his daughter. “You’re too smart for your age,” he gently pinches her chin, earning a giggle from her.

She leans into her dad’s side, wrapping her small arms around him. “I get if from both you and mama,” she looks up at him with her big brown eyes, “You, for your ability to figure out the toughest problems–”

“The math you’re learning isn’t that hard,” he scrunches his nose, shaking his head.

“It’s the ones with multiple numbers to subtract that get me!” she claims, holding up a finger before she continues. “And mama, for her ability to… overcome?” she looks towards Javier, a question written across her face on if she used the right word.

Javier nods slowly.

“Her ability to overcome her feelings,” she states triumphantly.

A smile pulls at his lips, “Yeah, your mom is pretty smart, isn’t she?” he murmurs.

His daughter nods, leaning her head against his side. Javier cards his fingers through her curls, pressing his lips to the top of her head. They’re silent for a moment, breathing in sync as they bask in the warmth of each other.

Javier never thought he would be a good father, but she just makes it so goddamn easy. She lights up every room that she walks into and steals everybody's hearts. She’s… a mini you, so to speak.

After a while, they leave to head to the wedding. Luis and his people rented out the barn at Tacubaya Ranch for the ceremony and reception. It’s a bit out of the way but it’s worth it for the family.

The place is beautifully decorated: multiple round tables with white cloth that can sit at least 8 people per table, warm fairy lights to set the mood, dangling diamonds in the shape of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a dance floor towards the front, and the various food dishes surrounding it on three sides.

Outside, rows of wooden seats frame the long aisle; white rose petals in the grass, a big white arch that overlooks the view of the greenery. 

Javier sits near the front with his daughter and father, waiting for the bride to come down the aisle. He can tell that his cousin is fidgety – the man constantly adjusts his tie and he’s sweating bullets. All with a grin on his face, though.

Despite himself, Javier looks around for you. His arm is slung over the back of his daughter’s chair, craning his neck back every now and then to see if he can spot you. Family come over, greeting the three of them, but never you – the one he truly wants to see.

He leans down to murmur to his daughter, “What’d you and your mom talk about on the phone?”

Her brown eyes snap towards him. “I never tell,” she pretends to zip her lips, tossing the imaginary key.

Javier chuckles, shaking his head. “Did she say she was coming?”

She nods, beginning to look around as well. A small frown forms on her face as she realizes you’re not here yet. The same furrow Javier has between his brows forms between hers. “She promised,” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair.

He watches his daughter, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and brushing back her curls. It’s one thing for you not to show up for him, but it’s a whole other thing for you not to show up for your kid.

So where the hell are you?

Your eyes follow Isabella’s form walking back and forth across the room. She’s been pacing for the last 10 minutes according to her mother. The older woman dragged you upstairs the second you arrived, hoping you could calm her down.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through the floor,” you state, walking into the room and closing the door.

Isabella stops dead in her tracks, a loud exhale of relief escaping her when she sees you. “You came,” she jogs over to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

You wrap your arms around her middle, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Bella.”

She squeezes you once before letting go to look at you. “It’s been too long.”

Unfortunately, she isn’t wrong.

After the divorce, you distanced yourself from Javier’s family. It felt like the right thing to do since legally they aren’t your family anymore. They took you in as their own, and that’s how you decided to repay them apparently.

You’re not proud of it – they had nothing to do with you and Javier’s relationship, but you know how they are and how they would’ve pushed for the two of you to get back together. One of his aunts even went as far as telling you that you could get the divorce reversed within the first 30 days and it would be like it never happened.

But it did.

The divorce isn’t something you’re ashamed of – you don’t want to hide it. Hiding it means that you pretend like it wasn’t a major part of your life. All the heartache and tears that were shed mean nothing if you ignore it, right?

That’s not something you’ll ever do.

You and Isabella talk for a while. She’s stopped her pacing and is sitting by the window now, overlooking all the people that showed up.

“How did you do it?” she asks, looking over at you from her spot, “Marry Javier.”

For a long moment, you don’t respond, thinking of the right words to say. On the spot, you can’t think of any. Marrying Javier was probably the easiest thing you’ve done in your life, and you don’t regret it as much as people may think.

The town has their own story of how the divorce went down, but only you and Javier know the truth. There’s no bad blood, you don’t think that he isn’t fit to be a father like someone mentioned to you; that’s the furthest thing from the truth. You couldn’t ask for a better father for your daughter, and you’re forever grateful that the two of you are civil enough to raise her together. Even if you’re separate.

“It was easy,” you finally answer, “I thought long and hard about whether he was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with…” you trail off, memories of that day flooding your mind.

You were so nervous that you nearly threw up. Your parents were as big of a mess as you were: that was the first time you ever saw your father cry. He barely managed to pull it together to walk you down the aisle. 

Isabella notices the look on your face, straightening up to join you on the couch. She adjusts her dress so she’s not getting it dirty, “So why’d you guys separate?”

That pulls you out of your thoughts, meeting her gaze momentarily. “It just happened,” you shrug, not really wanting to talk about it, “We became different people, I guess.”

Honestly, that’s the best way you can put it without going into detail. Yes, his job played a major role in your divorce. Yes, the pregnancy did, too. But if both of you had put in the effort, you probably would’ve been fine eventually.

To you, arguing with him was easier than admitting your insecurities. No one wants to deal with that, let alone admit it to someone. 

“Do you still love him?” she probes, tilting her head to the side.

“I’ll always love him, Bella,” you answer easily, “He gave me my daughter.”

“But are you still in love with him?”

You take a quiet deep breath at the question, averting her gaze. If you admit it, that opens a fresh floodgate of emotions that you don’t need right now. If you deny it, not only are you lying to her, but you’re lying to yourself as well.

“If it’s meant to be, then it’ll be,” you state, shrugging.

Eventually, the two of you have to go down; you have to find a seat and Isabella has to walk down the aisle. 

You hold your dress so you’re not stepping on the hem of it and getting it dirty. Clacking from your heels sound through the barn as you make your way outside to where everyone is gathered. 

A few heads turn towards you, followed by low murmurs. The gossipping isn’t something that you’ve missed at all.

Instinctively, you look around for your daughter. You have no intention of sitting near Javier, but you still want to know where she is. You spot her towards the front between him and his dad, and you relax your shoulders, taking a seat closest to the aisle in the back.

You cross one leg over the other, resting your hands in your lap. The Texas heat licks at your exposed shoulders, the sun blocked by the patio cover overhead. Thankfully, there are some outdoor fans that make the heat a little more bearable.

You watch your kid swing her legs, her brown hair fanning over her shoulders. She looks over her shoulder, scanning the people before she spots you in the back. Her face lights up and she waves excitedly, beckoning you to come over. The action catches Javier’s attention, his gaze traveling back to you. He doesn’t gesture or mouth anything, but his eyes do soften.

Briefly, it reminds you of how he used to look at you and it tugs at your heart, an unwanted lump forming in your throat.

Without really thinking, you get up slowly, your feet carrying you over to where they’re sitting. There’s an empty seat on Javier’s right side and you swallow your pride to sit down next to him. You cross your legs again, still keeping a respectable distance from him.

The two of you meet each other’s eyes, giving one another a small nod of acknowledgement before you face forward again. Though, Javier doesn’t look away. His eyes burn into your temple, making you wonder what he’s thinking.

His expression is completely unreadable, which is odd to you because once upon a time, you were able to read him like a book.

During the ceremony, tears are shed, whistles are made, family is united. All while you and Javier repeatedly steal glances at each other. You feel like teenagers all over again: too afraid to approach one another because you were scared of rejection.

When everyone stands to head inside, you linger back, needing a moment to breathe. Sitting next to him for what felt like an eternity messed with your mind. His scent clings stubbornly to your memory, cedar with a hint of leather. It sparks up memories that you aren’t sure you want to face yet.

Javier sits at a table inside with his father. The older man is eating the food that is being served while Javier chews on his nicotine gum. His daughter is on the dance floor with her cousins, a big smile on her face. Every now and then, he looks around for you again, unsure of where you went after the ceremony.

The reception is always Javier’s favorite part at a wedding. It was his favorite at yours too. Family get drunk, it’s an excuse to eat desserts that everyone knows isn’t good for them, laughs are loud and genuine, and memories are made. He remembers how chaotic his cousins were during his wedding reception, but they all had pure intentions.

Finally, he spots you talking to a man he doesn’t know towards the very front of the barn. He sits up a little straighter, chewing on his gun a little harder than necessary at the sight. You seem like you know the guy, putting a hand on his bicep when you laugh at a joke. And it’s not just some fake laugh that you give strangers that you no longer want to talk to, it’s your real laugh. One he hasn’t heard in a long time.

He’s almost about to get up before Chucho speaks up, “No lo hagas. (Don’t do it.)”

Javier glances over at his father, shrinking back at his words. “No voy a hacer nada, papá. (I’m not going to do anything, dad.)”

The older man gives him a knowing look, putting down his fork. “You’ve been the same about her since high school,” he claims, watching Javier take a swig of his beer and look back in your direction. “She’ll talk to you when she’s ready, mijo.”

He knows his dad is right, but that doesn’t stop him from getting the urge to walk over to you anyway. He’s also well aware of the fact that he has no claim over you anymore; you’re a grown woman and you can talk to other people. But it’s still not a sight that he likes to see.

To him, it almost feels like a betrayal. The two of you were together for so long that it feels weird not having you within arms reach. His hand would always be on your thigh, or your shoulder, or your lower back. In his own way, it was him silently telling people that you were already taken – if the rock on your left hand wasn’t already obvious enough.

Javier can’t even remember the last time he actually flirted with a woman. It’s only ever been you and he’s not sure if he wants to try with someone else. Not when you agreed to try with him again. He’s been loyal to you since you caught his eye and it will most likely stay that way, even if you don’t end up back together.

Eventually, you walk away from the guy and sit at an empty table. Javier sees this as an opportunity to approach you, regardless of what his old man said. He takes another swig of liquid courage before he makes his way through the crowd to you.

You look up with a faint smile when he comes up to the table, sitting down with one chair in between the two of you. Still giving you space, but leaving the option to move next to him available. 

“Why didn’t you come sit with me and Chucho?” he asks, draping his arm over the back of the chair.

You shrug faintly, taking a sip from your water bottle. Briefly, his eyes drop to the bottle, taking a mental note of the lack of alcohol. “It didn’t feel right to,” you claim.

Javier furrows his brows at that, keeping his gum in the back of his mouth. It’s a subconscious move, he thinks, knowing that you never appreciated when people smacked their gum during conversations. “You’re always welcome to, cariño,” the nickname slips out but he doesn’t take it back, and you don’t comment on it. “We’re still family.”

“Legally, we’re not,” you jab lightly.

“Regardless of that,” he starts, “you’re still family. You shouldn’t feel weird about hanging around us.”

It’s only then that he realizes how much you’re looking around, probably feeling out of place now that you aren’t binded to his family legally. But legality doesn’t choose that, you do. Especially since you’re the mother of his daughter. If anything, that makes you family by blood.

“It’s just…” you trail off, trying to find the right word, “A little strange that I’m here. People are looking at me like I broke your heart or something.” When you laugh it off, it tugs at his heart.

He shakes his head, “Well, they’re wrong and you shouldn’t worry about them.”

“I know,” you whisper, crossing your arms over your chest – a defense mechanism you’ve had since he’s known you. Like you’re shielding yourself from the worst.

Surprisingly, the conversation is still easy with you; no one’s yelling for once and it makes Javier feel at ease. The barn seems like it narrows down to just the two of you. You share laughs, reminisce about old family drama and the days before everything fell apart.

Just easy.

It was always easy with you, and he hates that he ruined things with his job. He still feels incredibly guilty about making you believe that he no longer loved you or blamed you for anything when that isn’t the case at all. 

He’ll always love you, even if the two of you aren’t necessarily together.

“So,” he draws out, deciding to just ask, “who’s the guy?”

You raise your brows slightly at the question, noticing the jealousy he’s trying (and failing) to hide. “Who?”

“The guy you were talking to before you sat down,” he reminds you, knowing that you’re playing dumb to mess with him.

You shrug, leaning back in your seat and sipping on your water. “Oh, that guy.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “that guy.”

A faint but audible chuckle leaves you, shaking your head slowly. “I thought we agreed not to be possessive of each other. I mean, we’re not together anymore,” you murmur.

He weighs his head from side to side, “Yeah, but that was before you said you would give me another chance.”

“Did I say that?” you inquire, feigning innocence. “I don’t think those were my exact words.”

Javier chuckles fondly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and drawing your eyes there for a split second. “You didn’t flat out reject me either,” he claims.

“True,” you tip your bottle towards him.

He cocks an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “We could’ve worked out, baby – we should’ve been able to fix things before it got to that point.”

You take a deep breath at his words, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the plastic table cover. You barely process it when your nail pokes a hole through it. “We were pretty young when we got married, Javi,” you shake your head slowly, “Not all couples that start like that actually last.”

“We were supposed to be the one that did,” he starts, hearing you scoff and avoid his gaze. “I am sorry for how I acted. I know how hard it was for you to be in Colombia with me, and I shouldn’t have put my job over our relationship.”

“All you do is apologize,” you express, “but you never actually change.”

“It’ll be different this time,” Javier claims.

“How?” you shrug, “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he states firmly, “Because I’m going to put in the work. Whatever it takes to get you back.” He pauses, studying your exasperated expression. He knows it’ll take more than just words to fix this, so he suggests something. “I’ll go to therapy with you.”

You furrow your brows at that, confusion spreading across your face. “You know, couples tend to go to therapy before they seperate… not after.”

Despite himself, his lips curve into a small smirk. “I know, but I’ll do it; however many sessions of a stranger telling me my problems and how to fix them. I will do that for you.” He trails off, looking over at your daughter on the dance floor and then back to you, “For us.”

Javier has in fact stuck to his word. Every week, without fail, for the last two months, he’s shown up to therapy with you. Your daughter is ecstatic that both of you are putting in the effort to be her parents again… together.

Now that summer break has started for her, she hangs out with her grandpa while the two of you go to therapy. She’s beginning to push for family dinners every Sunday, but you’d rather take it one step at a time.

To say you’re proud of and grateful for Javier is an understatement. Your mother used to always tell you that he’d never clean up his act.

You’re glad that she was wrong.

This Friday, you and Javier even took the same car. It’s your week to have your daughter, so he thought it would be easier and save gas if you took one car. Plus, he had to drop her off at his dad’s and then head back into town to go to your therapist’s office.

Now, both of you are driving back to the ranch to pick her up. Today, it’s been gloomy all day, but that doesn’t dim your daughter’s smile. She nearly knocks the two of you over when she runs up and hugs you.

“Hola, dulce niña (Hi, sweet girl),” Javier greets her, stroking her hair back.

She looks up at the both of you with a big grin on her face. “¡El abuelo y yo hicimos galletas! (Grandpa and I made cookies!)” she exclaims.

“¿Lo sabías? (Did you now?)” you ask, looking over at Chucho when he gets up from his recliner. You haven’t had much interaction with the man since Javier started going to therapy with you, and you can imagine that he has some words he’d like to share with you.

“¿Puedo hablar contigo? (Can I talk to you?)” Chucho says your name in a soft tone, no sense of audible scolding.

You share a glance with Javier before you nod at his father, peeling away from your daughter and following him into the kitchen.

He sets his cowboy hat down on the island, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. You stand with your hands intertwined in front of you, like you did when you were younger and wanted to ask your parents something you knew they were going to say no to.

“You know he loves you, right?” he asks quietly.

The question catches you off guard for a second, not expecting that to be the first thing he says. “I do,” you murmur, fiddling your thumbs as your nerves build.

“So you can understand my concern when I say that I need you to be careful with his heart,” he expresses sincerely, no room for anything that isn’t serious.

You swallow visibly, your eyes not fraying from the older man. 

“I know you’re adults and you can figure out your feelings on your own–”

You exhale, nearly chuckling. “There’s nothing going on between the two of us,” you claim, shaking your head.

Chucho raises an eyebrow, nodding once, “Sure there isn’t.”

You open your mouth to speak again but your daughter comes running into the kitchen, Javier trailing behind her. 

“I’m sorry, I tried to catch her before she got in here,” he apologizes, picking her up and mumbling something in Spanish to her.

You know he’s lying but you don’t say anything. You’re still stunned about what Chucho just told you.

“Um,” you start, clearing your throat and looking back over at the man who was your father-in-law at some point. He’s still giving you that same knowing look, making your mind frazzled. “We should go before it starts storming. Don’t want to get caught in the middle of nowhere with no service, now do we?”

Before Javier can answer, you’re already heading out to the car, leaving him a little confused. He looks back at his father, adjusting his daughter at his side. “What’d you say to her, papá?”

The older man shrugs, “Nothing she didn’t already know. I just gave her a little push.”

On the drive back to your apartment, you stare out the window the entire time. By this time, the sky looks like it’s just about ready to open up. Every now and then, you glance in the rearview mirror, checking on your daughter. She’s not the biggest fan of storms, and her stuffed bunny is clutched to her chest tightly for comfort.

“Hey,” Javier gets your attention, placing a hand on your thigh and sending heat straight up your spine. 

Now that Chucho’s said something, you realize he’s right. It’s not like you ever stopped loving Javier, you just didn’t feel that connection anymore. But he’s been so patient and good to you for the last 8 weeks, that maybe, you are falling for him… again.

Is it even possible to fall for the same person twice?

If it is, that’s what’s happening to you right now.

“What’d my old man say to you?” he asks, glancing over at you when he stops at a red light. 

You give him the best smile you can muster at the moment, shaking your head slowly. “Just to be careful,” you whisper, softening your expression the longer you look at him.

When he turns his head to continue driving, you admire his side profile in the dim lighting. He’s always been perfect – he was your perfect guy. But even if you do get back together, who’s to say that it’ll be the same level of extreme love again. The kind that pressed in on all sides and kept you warm, safe, and comfortable. 

Honestly, you’re terrified to give your heart to somebody again. Even if it’s the same person that had it to begin with. Colombia made you into two different people that ended up growing apart and resenting each other for major things. 

Neither of you are getting any younger, and it feels like it’s too late to start over with someone else. And you have a child to consider.

“Be careful with what?” he probes gently, putting his hand back on the steering wheel.

The loss of warmth hits you like a punch in the gut, “With our hearts.”

He glances at you again and before you know it, he’s parked in front of your building.

“Can we go inside before it starts pouring?” your daughter asks, pulling you out of your daze.

Both you and Javier chuckle, getting out of the car finally. Javier helps her out, and you lean your head back and close your eyes, taking a much needed deep breath. Being in the car was starting to overwhelm you… well, your thoughts were, at least. Along with Javier’s cologne.

You don’t know how long you stand like that, but your face twitches when you feel the first raindrop. You open your eyes, being met with the dark grey sky and a dozen more drops hitting your face. A clap of thunder rumbles in the distance, telling you that the storm has finally rolled in.

“C’mon,” Javier murmurs, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you inside.

Once you unlock the door, you hear the heavy rainfall begin.

The storm rages on for hours, cutting the power and forcing all of you to huddle up in the living room. Javier is on one side of the couch, and you’re on the other, fidgeting with your earring as you stare out the window. The rain pounds on the glass, muffling the sounds outside completely. 

You look over, taking in the way your daughter is tucked into her dad’s side. She fell asleep at least 20 minutes ago, her body limp against Javier’s. The sight brings a small smile to your face. If you’re being honest, you miss these quiet moments within the three of you. Just basking in each other’s company rather than filling the silence with words. 

Javier catches your eyes, his lips curving to match yours. He shifts – careful of his sleeping child – and places his hand in between the two of you, his palm up. An offer to hold his hand.

You hesitate to overthink it. If you take his hand, you’re letting him back into your life intimately. If you don’t take it, he’ll think it’s a cold shoulder and possibly retreat on everything he’s been doing lately.

Fuck, who are you kidding? Javier’s never going to give up on you, whether you want him to or not. You’re the only person he’s ever loved and it’ll stay that way forever, you think.

Tentatively, you place your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. The warmth of his palm shoots straight through you, reminding you of the good days. 

He rubs his thumb along your knuckles, a contemplative look on his face. You wait, wanting him to ask on his own time instead of pushing him. That’s something major that your therapist taught you when it came to you and Javier’s tempers. Both of you are too stubborn to ever admit that you’re wrong, so you argue. Nine times out of ten, those arguments ended with sleeping in different rooms.

You were such different people back then. It feels like a lifetime ago when you were dating through high school and college. Both of you had high ambitions and thought you could get through anything.

But then his job got in the way.

You don’t think that could happen again, but you also know Javier. He can’t sit still for five minutes and constantly needs to be doing something. He’d deny it but you know he misses the DEA. Maybe not the bureaucratic part of the job, but definitely the thrill of the chase.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice soft and quiet.

“Honestly?” you meet his eyes again, your voice matching his tone, “Your job… and how we were before it got in the way.”

He nods faintly, not taking his eyes off of you. Subconsciously, you shift under his gaze, your skin suddenly feeling hot to the touch.

“Do you think we could ever go back to that?” he whispers, thunder rumbling and rattling the glasses in your cabinet. “Be that in love again?”

“I think we’re on the right track,” you admit quietly, “You’ve been so… supportive and patient, and I really appreciate it, Jav. I know I’m not the easiest to deal with sometimes.”

“Don’t sell yourself short like that, cariño.”

It’s things like that that come out of his mouth.

There are a million reasons you could think of, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t work again. But the heart wants what it wants, right?

By your daughter’s bedtime, the storm is still pounding on the glass and your mind is still warring with you.

The future is a scary thing for everyone. The knowledge that the decisions you make every single day either make or break your life. All you can do is hope that they’re the right choices.

So when you make the choice of leading Javier into the darkness of your room, you can only pray that you’re making the right decision for your relationship and your family.

Lightning strikes, lighting up the room as you light a few candles. Javier stands by the door, hands in his pockets, unsure of what’s happening. Hell, you don’t really know what you’re doing either to be honest.

Emotionally, you’re convinced that he wants you again, but you need some sort of physical tell.

You never thought the two of you could come this far in healing. It feels like a big piece of your soul has found its way back to you. That’s what Javier does to you – he makes you feel whole. Whole as a person, whole as a partner, and most importantly, whole as a mother. It’s time for your family to be complete again.

Tentatively, you take his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed with him. It takes you a moment to find the right words, but once you do, you’re completely open and honest with him. “Do you think we’re doing well?”

“I do,” Javier nods slowly, not daring to break eye contact with you. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand, easing your nerves. “You make it easy.”

Heat travels to your cheeks in the candlelit room, tilting your head down to let out an incredulous chuckle. “You can thank my therapist for that.”

“No, that’s all you, querida.”

You meet his soft brown eyes again, knitting your brows together when emotion threatens to spill over. “Do you really mean that?”

Javier doesn’t even hesitate to reassure you, “Of course I do. You’ve grown so much – not only for yourself, but for our daughter, too. She’s incredibly proud of you… and so am I.” He pauses, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and taking a chance, “I am proud of the woman that I love.”

Faintly, your breath catches in your throat. You haven’t heard him say that in years at this point. It was always easier for the both of you to bury your feelings than talk about them. They held so much weight that it sank your marriage. Neither of you ever stopped loving each other: Javier thought he was protecting you by pushing you away, and in return, you thought he didn’t want you anymore.

But that was never the case.

Javier wants and needs you so bad that it hurts. Pushing you away didn’t protect you, it only made things worse – he’s realized that now and he has to stop doing it.

Cautiously, he closes the distance between the two of you, still giving you the chance to move away if you want. When you don’t, he cups your face, rubbing your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb as he studies your infuriatingly beautiful features. Features he loves and sees in your daughter.

He shakes his head slowly, astonishment in his eyes. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous,” he whispers.

That’s all it takes before you close the distance completely, locking lips with him. His plush lips are warm and familiar to you, something you’ve missed deeply.

“Tell me you love me again,” you murmur against them, carding your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you.”

Kiss.

“I love you.”

Kiss.

“I love you.”

Kiss.

He does the same thing over and over, laying you down on the bed like you’re something sacred. The next clap of thunder shakes the entire apartment building, but neither of you notice, too busy drowning in each other after years of separation.

His hands slip under your shirt, palms flat on your skin and relearning your body. Yours nimbly unbutton his flannel, needing as much of him as you can get. Javier matches your fervor, pulling your shirt over your head and shrugging off his, tossing them both onto the floor.

You pause, noticing the chain dangling from his neck. His silver wedding band stares you dead in the face, making you wonder if he ever took it off in the first place. You wrap your hand around it, pulling him down for another kiss. The second your skin makes contact with his, he groans, lips trailing along your jawline.

“Javi.”

He pulls back at the sound of your voice, giving you his full attention even though he’d rather rip your clothes off and reclaim you as his once again.

“Promise me,” you start, looking up at him with your arms wrapped around his neck, “Promise me that this isn’t just a one time thing.”

“I promise,” he nods immediately, swallowing back his desire when he realizes how serious you are. “I will put you and our daughter above everything else because that’s what you deserve.”

You believe him. You have to. In order for this to work again, you have to be honest with each other and believe each other over anything else, right?

“Good,” with that, you pull him back down for a heated kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Clothes are discarded, tossed to the floor without second thought. God, you didn’t know how much you needed this until the bulbous head of his cock breaches your entrance, stretching you sweetly. You both sigh in unison into each other’s mouths, kissing to distract from the sting of the stretch.

When you grip his bicep, Javier pulls back to make sure you’re okay before he fills you to the brim. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust to his girth as he mouths at your neck. It feels right – like coming home after a long day. In this case, it’s been years. You can finally come up for air after suffocating in your own feelings for so long.

He draws his hips back slowly, watching your face contort in pleasure, before he sinks back in, repeating the action over and over. The slow pace allows you to feel every heavy inch of him, your velvet walls pulling him in deeper. 

Your fingers grip his hair, heat churning low in your belly. “Jav,” you breathe, “Baby.”

He groans at the term of endearment, snapping his hips harder but still keeping it slow and deep, not wanting to rush this intimate connection after so long without you. “I’m right here, cariño,” he presses his forehead to yours, his hands hiking your thighs higher up his waist, “I’m not goin’ anywhere ever again, you hear me?”

A breathy whimper leaves you in response, your thighs being adjusted making you open up more. You feel Javier everywhere: his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling together, his thumbs caressing the underside of your thighs, his big hands gripping them tightly. All while you’re pliant underneath him, right where you want to be.

The storm still rages on outside, seeming to get more intense the longer the two of you stay tangled. The lightning is a blinding white, followed by loud claps of thunder that mask your sounds.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Javier rasps, kissing the corner of your mouth and picking up the pace. “Squeezin’ me so goddamn tight.”

The sound of wet skin slapping grows louder, your slick arousal seeping out of you, down to your ass. Every time his hips retreat, you clench around the head of his cock, chasing the feeling of him.

He adjusts the angle of your hips, driving into that sweet spot deep inside you, making stars burst behind your eyes. You shut them tight, unashamed of your noises now as you tilt your head back, one hand gripping the pillow under your head for purchase.

“Fuck,” your voice is shaky, the familiar tingle at the base of your spine growing more prominent. “I’m close, baby.”

“I know,” Javier whispers roughly, “Where do you want me–”

“Inside,” you don’t hesitate to answer, “Please.”

He lets out a ragged exhale, his cock twitching violently inside you. “Are you sure?”

You nod desperately, looking up at him with pleading eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I am.”

At your confirmation, he slips an arm under you, holding you in place, his other hand firmly holding your hip. A bead of sweat slides down his back as he increases his speed, keeping his length deep inside you. He grits his teeth, holding off on his own orgasm as you near yours, your walls clamping down around him.

Your nails rake down his back, vision going blurry around the edges. Breathy moans escape between your lips, spurring him on to get you to your climax. When you toss your head back, a strike of lightning rips across the dark canopy that is the sky, booming claps of thunder following, drowning out your loud shared noises as electricity ripples through both of you.

Javier’s warm seed spills into you in thick pulses, your gummy walls fluttering helplessly around his sensitive cock, milking him completely dry. He slumps against you, burying his face in your neck, peppering kisses along your sweat-slick skin.

It feels like it’s been forever once you’ve caught your breath, Javier slipping out of bed and padding to the bathroom to get a wash cloth.

Despite yourself, a smile tugs at your lips, satisfied not only with the sex, but with the fact that the two of you have grown so much. When he said he would go to therapy with him, you didn’t think he would actually commit to it the way that he has. And just because the two of you have made up physically, you know there’s still some wounds that need to be healed over time.

Now, he lies beside you, your head resting on his shoulder. You lift it to pepper a few kisses along his skin, hearing him let out a sigh of content. “We’re gonna be okay,” he whispers, looking over at you.

You don’t know how much you believe him until morning comes, the sun shining through the blinds, no traces of last night’s storm. You smile at the peace, finally feeling whole again.

᯽ tags: @missladym1981 , @kirsteng42 , @mcthsman , @petalsinblood , @rosharanfiction , @cuteanimalmama , @harriedandharassed , @madpanda75 , @shadowqueen2024 , @picketniffler , @kokoluwie , @reedispunk , @milla-frenchy , @missadangel , @gothcsz , @kai-lovey , @sawymredfox , @baronessvonglitter , @hanahleah , @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 , @joelmillerspnk , @peepawmiller

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You weren't nervous until you saw Javi. That was the problem.

The ceremony had already started. People were seated. Music was playing somewhere behind you. Everything was happening exactly the way it was supposed to.

Then you looked up.

And there he was. Standing at the end of the aisle in a suit that honestly should've been illegal. Javier Peña never looked uncomfortable around politicians, cartel members, armed suspects, or DEA supervisors. A wedding, apparently, was his breaking point.

His jaw was tight. His hands were clasped in front of him. And every few seconds he glanced toward the crowd like he was looking for an escape route. Until his eyes found you. Then everything else disappeared. The nervousness vanished from his face so fast it almost made you laugh. His shoulders relaxed. A small smile appeared. Just for you.

By the time you reached him, your own hands were shaking. "Don't laugh," you whispered as the officiant continued talking.

"I'm not laughing. I'm smiling."

"Same thing."

Javi looked down for a second, trying and failing to hide it. "No, it's not."

You squeezed his hand.

Immediately his fingers closed around yours. Strong. Warm. Familiar. The kind of touch that said I've got you without needing the words.

For a moment neither of you paid attention to whatever was being said around you. You were too busy looking at him. At the stupid smile he couldn't get rid of.

At the fact that Javier Peña, who spent most of his life pretending he didn't need anybody, was looking at you like he couldn't believe this was actually happening.

"You okay?" you whispered.

His thumb brushed across your knuckles. "Yeah," he said quietly. Then his smile grew a little wider. "Just trying to figure out how I got this lucky."

thank you for reading!

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Javier Peña doesn’t know if he should see this reassignment as a good thing. He had gotten himself in a pretty hairy situation down in Colombia. His involvement with a death squad and the cartel had him pulled from the biggest case of his career right as they were on the verge of catching Escobar… and only he is to blame for that. He crossed a boundary with himself, gotten innocent people killed and what exactly does he have to show for it?

A reassignment to a small, shitty town in the middle of Texas. 

At least in South America he had a great view to cope with the shitty happenings. The lush mountains of Medellín that stretched for miles and miles, the bustling of the the country’s capitol, Bogotá, or the portrait perfect skyline of Cali. 

Here, it’s just dirt roads with barbed wired fences lining the vast amounts of grassy lands. Occasional livestock litter the area; Seminary’s only lifeline is farming since most of the families that reside here own ranches or crop fields. The town is able to sustain itself with what it produces, therefore not needing many additional businesses. Just a few blocks of shops and civil buildings. No hospital but a doctor’s office with one singular clinician, a grindhouse, some boutiques, a bakery, a very small post office that shares its space with the local newspaper.

Typical spaces you’d find in a settlement like this.

He can’t change his past and all his wrongdoings. Instead, Javier can try and see the fucking silver lining of the situation; that he finally has time to catch his breath… to slow down, for once. The concept is foreign to him. He’s been fleeing from it since he was an adolescent.

A fact that his father, Chucho, had brought up when Javier told the older man of his new job.

“Seminary? ¿Donde putas es eso? (Where the fuck is that?)”

“Couple hours southwest of El Paso. A smidge on the map.”

“A smidge on the map sounds like exactly what you need, hombre (man).” His pops tells him, taking a swig from his beer as the two lean against the wooden fence that keeps the herd of horses from running amuck.

Javi doesn’t say anything, instead gazing out into the vastness of the family ranch.

“All that craziness down there in Colombia te pudre le mente. El cuerpo. (It rots your mind. Your body.) And I’ll be damned if a heart attack takes you out before me.” The men chuckle briefly, sounding just alike.

“Comes with its own shit. A damn ‘cult’.” Javi scoffs, taking a smooth drag from the cigarette between his lips. “Least that’s what the locals think. Could just be a damn serial killer.” No different from what he’s experienced with the cartel.

“Shit is goin’ to be anywhere you go, hijo (son), pero se me hace a mi (it seems to me) that the shit they got goin’ on in Seminary is much more manageable than la mierda con Escobar (the shit with Escobar).” Just hearing his name has Javier clenching his jaw subconsciously and Chucho takes notice.

“Just an old man’s opinion. Take this time to look within. Figure out the type of man you want to be after being chewed up and spat out of Colombia.” Another swig of beer, “Pero eres tan bruto, nunca me haces caso (but you’re so stubborn, you never listen to me). ”

“In a shocking turn of events, this might be the one time I do.” Javier snuffs out the finished cigarette against the wooden pole, tossing it aside carelessly and crossing his arms against his chest. “But don’t get your hopes up. ”

“As long as you don’t drink the damn kool aid, vaz a estar bien (you’re going to be fine).” The father and son share another laugh, this time much more lighthearted.

Javi blinks slowly behind the aviators that sit on the bridge of his nose, the bright and grueling Texas sun beaming down on him harshly. Finishing his cigarette, he pushes himself off the hood of his restored Ford pickup truck. He’s been sitting outside of Seminary’s Sheriff’s Department for about ten minutes now, the small building located right in the middle of town very easy to find.

Then again, it wasn’t hard to get lost in a place this small.

It is unimpressive and has the makings of any other small town government building. An American flag flown proudly above Texas’s, the lettering that labeled the building faded due to being unkept and time. 

Javier knows that the dread he feels comes from not being able to sit still. It’s why he found some kind of pleasure working down in Colombia. Things were always moving at a fast pace, albeit he had done a lot of pencil pushing and running down the clock, but the city itself was bustling with life and culture that kept him on go even when he was idle. 

Here, however, the stillness is suffocating and he wonders how the people of Seminary can breathe. 

Is this sentiment what sparked the murders? Had someone finally had enough of the mundane and decided to spruce things up?

His eyes narrow, if he continues to stand out here any longer, the sheriff will begin to wonder if the new guy had bailed before even coming in.

He jogs up the steps that lead up to the main building, taking them two at a time then pushing open the worn, glass door of the entrance; removing his sunglasses and letting them hang from the collar of the cream colored button up shirt he’s wearing. 

He takes in his surroundings and somehow he feels like he and Murphy had more space back at the embassy than what they have here. 

There’s a front desk to the immediate right being tended to by an older woman with fiery red hair that’s got reading glasses on, too engrossed in her novel to notice that he’s stepped in.

Other than that, it's everything one would expect a sheriff’s department to look like. Desks pushed together here and there, singular ceiling fan lazily spinning in the center of the room, a break room tucked to the back, the hallway that led to detaining rooms and other necessary spaces, variety of office supplies and filing cabinets.

It almost looks too normal.

“Need somethin’, dear?” He is returned to himself as the older woman finally takes notice of him with a friendly smile, her eyes not so subtly giving him a once over. “We don’t usually get hunks ‘round here. You must be lost, sugar.”

Javier smirks, even without trying he’s got women smitten.

“Fortunately for you, ma’am, seems like I’m in the right place. Javier Peña, new Deputy Sheriff.” He strolls over to her desk, leaning against it as he reaches his hand out for her to shake. 

She lets out a warm laugh and they shake hands in which Javi notices a soft pink tint of blush on the apples of her cheeks. “Fortunately for me indeed. I’m Lorraine, darlin’, I pretty much run everythin’ ‘round here but don’t you go tellin’ Romeo that.” She winks at him.

“Don’t go tellin’ Romeo what now, Lorraine? That you’re gunnin’ for my job?” A boisterous voice interrupts them and Javier immediately recognizes it to be the sheriff. 

“Oh, I thought that was somethin’ we all already knew?”

“Hate to say it but she’s right. Works circles around me that one. Romeo Leighton. Great to have you here, Javier.” The sheriff now speaks to Javier directly, and he takes this as a sign to straighten his posture and formally introduce himself as well.

The man has a good fifteen years on Javi, standing a few inches taller with a much more worn look to him. He’s a bit skinny yet built, except for the typical beer belly most southern men tend to have. A scruffy and short beard with unruly hair that’s a mix of grays and dark browns.

“Thanks for having me.” The two share a brief handshake, “M’sure you two could handle the town all on your own, so I appreciate you making room for a plus one.” Javier decides to turn on the good ‘ol southern charm and it seems to land as intended as the atmosphere in the room remains friendly and the sheriff chuckles.

“Look at him catchin’ on so quick. We just might not let you go, amigo.” Lorraine playfully rolls her eyes and reaches over to pass the older man a stack of files. “These just came in from Rankin County.”

“You got here just in time. We got some new developments on the murders.” And just like that, the lively talk is over and they get right into the job. 

“Heard there were mentions of a group of some sorts?” Javier brings it up, wanting to get a gauge on the sheriff’s reaction instead of just reading about it through reports.

“Just rumors. Nothing concrete to back it up.”

The two men now find themselves in Romeo’s office, each smoking a cigarette with multiple files sprawled across the wooden desk.

Here’s what they know: three woman murdered along the highway that these towns share all within a year. They sustained multiple stab wounds, yet the fatal insertion was that of a sharp blade going straight through the heart. The men don’t know if that was intentional or accidental due to the amount of times their chests had been punctured.

It is gruesome, to say the least, but nothing that Javier hasn’t seen before, unfortunately. The way the cartel got creative with their murders just to send a message to their rivals had him exposed to many atrocities; he was desensitized to most forms of violence. Yet, the passion behind these crimes and unclear motive has piqued Javi’s interest the more they discussed it. 

“Then again… it could be nothin’. Just a giant, fucked up coincidence.” The sheriff grumbles, clearly frustrated by the lack of information.

“No, I don’t think so. Too similar of a killing method. Any clue what weapon was used?” Javier leans forward in the uncomfortable, leather chair to ash his cigarette and sifting through the papers, trying to find the coroner’s reports for all three victims.

“Some kind of dagger or knife. Thought it might have been a huntin’ knife but all the wounds were clean cut. No serrated edges on the weapon.”

Javi hums, going over the details in his head for the millionth time trying to see the picture that was so clearly painted in front of him.

There was just simply not enough evidence to make anything out of it. On top of that, the assailant hasn’t struck again in months. A good thing for the general public but not for them if they have any intention of bringing justice to the families of the victims and catching whoever was behind these heinous crimes.

Javier also realizes that while these murders were tame to him, they were most certainly not tame to the people around here. Atrocities as these simply didn’t happen in places like Seminary and surrounding areas. Now that they were dealing with the aggressive reality of humanity, it was shaking them to their core.

So much so that the God fearing townsfolk began spreading rumors that the devil had its eye on the town and already infiltrated the progressive minds of the local youth.

“There’s always some truth to rumors, you know.” Javi begins, gray smoke flooding out from his mouth and nostrils as he puffs out from the nicotine stick, “Someone must’ve seen or heard somethin’ to implicate the younger crowd. ”

The sheriff leans back in his chair, using his thumb to rub out the concentrated frown that had etched itself between his brows, “People ‘round here are pretty stuck in their ways, myself included at times, they don’t like the way this new generation is comin’ up. Barely goin’ to church, spendin’ more time at the bar than at work. How sexual music’s gotten. Small shit like that gets people talkin’. It’s annoyin’ but it’s just talk.”

Javier is going to have to polish his interpersonal skills. Something larger could be at play here so he makes a mental note to go out and talk to these people himself to get a better feeling for what the general sentiment is.

Hell, he might even start going back to church. He can’t remember the last time he step foot in one. With what all had transpired further south; he’d lost his faith entirely. There was so much evil and greed in the world, he felt helpless at the realization that even religion became aversive to him. 

“M’sure somethin’ll come up eventually.” Javier decides to be optimistic, struggling to do so but also wanting to turn over a new leaf, “In the meantime we’ll just have to make do with what we got. It’s been a while since the fucker struck so maybe they're done. Got a taste for it and decided they didn’t like it.” He finishes off his cigarette, stubbing it out and leaning back against the chair.

“A fresh set of eyes will really help with that. Appreciate you comin’ here, Peña. Don’t know much about your time down in Colombia but I can imagine it was rough. This is a massive change for you. Goin’ from damn drug traffickers to a coupla girls gettin’ stabbed on the side of a highway.” The older man continues to puff on his cigarette, his statement falling flat and almost in bad taste but Javier doesn’t say anything, instead shrugging. 

“I got a job— M’not complaining’.” That was almost not the case, and a nasty feeling at the pit of his gut stirs at the remembrance of his meeting with the board in D.C. in a few weeks to get his official reprimanding for his ties with Los Pepes. 

Javi is surprised that the Sheriff doesn’t bring up Judy Moncada’s quotes from the Miami Herald. Either he wasn’t informed or he simply did not care.

“That’s the spirit. What do you have goin’ on tonight?” Romeo begins, changing the subject entirely, and Javier can sense an invitation incoming. “‘Cause I’d love to have ya over for dinner. Give you a proper introduction to Seminary. You can meet my daughter, Paloma, too.” The sheriff then picks up one of the framed photos on his desk, turning it over for Javier to see.

A portrait of a stunning young woman sporting a cowboy hat, smiling brightly at the camera.

“Ain’t she a beaut?” He pulls the picture back, asking rhetorically and Javier clears his throat. 

For a moment he contemplates the dinner invitation, part of him wanting to be alone in the comfort of his new space but the other part wanting to just throw himself into this to keep his mind occupied and away from the grueling memories of the lengthy time he’d spent in Colombia.

“Sure, I’ll come by.” He decides. If he thought about it for a second longer, he’d talk himself out of going.

A large, friendly grin spreads on Romeo’s face and he nods, finally finishing off his cigarette. “Alright now, you can stop by ‘round 7.” He moves some of the files aside revealing a notepad and he digs in his shirt pocket to pull out a pen. Scribbling down his address messily onto the blank piece of paper, he tears it off and leans over to hand it to Javier.

“Not that hard to get to.” Javier nods curtly and takes the paper, folding it and stuffing it into his back pocket.

It’s later in the day, the sun cascading into the distance; its hues of deep oranges and reds softening as the night sky begins to take over.

Paloma sits on the rocking chair that matches her father’s out on the porch. A guitar nestled in her lap and personal booklet resting on the arm of the chair as she strums lightly, building the chorus of her new song out loud. She takes the pencil from behind her ear and jots down something quickly and messily, returning to strumming and humming simultaneously.

“Paloma!” She hears the loud voice of her father practically making the walls shake as he calls out for her from his bedroom that was on the other side of the house. They often opened all the doors and windows to allow the soft breeze to flow throughout their space. 

She groans, stopping her actions as the melody she was on the brink of figuring out leaves her entirely.

“What, daddy?!” She yells back, waiting for his reply which never comes.

He does this all the time.

Cursing quietly, Paloma stands from her comfortable spot, gently leaning her guitar against the wall then walking in to the house.

She finds Romeo exiting his bedroom and walking towards her, bottle of his good scotch in hand with a relieved look on his face. “Couldn’t find the goddamn liquor. Thought you had nabbed it from me.” He pinches her nose as he walks by her, in which she scrunches her face at the action. It's something he’s done since she was a little girl. It can be endearing but most of the time; it was just annoying.

“That’s the good stuff, daddy. I would never.” She follows behind him as they enter the kitchen, “Man must’ve left quite an impression for ya to be bustin’ out the crown jewel.” She watches as he begins to set out the dinnerware for tonight, and that’s when she realizes how late it has gotten.

It’s easy for Paloma to lose herself in her music. She has been able to since she was a child. Her mother had nursed the hobby the moment she saw how truly talented her daughter was. In return, Paloma became skillful in being able to play damn near any instrument put in front of her. And she could sing, too.

Beautifully.

“Javier’s got a sharp mind that I can use ‘round here. Thinkin’ I can finally start makin’ some damn progress. That deserves a special drink, don’t ya think? Come help me set the table.” She obliges, thinking her father’s words over.

The murders have been weighing heavily on his shoulders since they began. All the time and effort he’s put in to make the puzzle pieces fit only to come up empty handed. Paloma doesn’t know the specifics of it, just what he rants to her here and there. He doesn’t like to bring his work home.

Romeo has been away a lot since putting his entire focus on the cases. Many nights spent at the office but he at least tries to share one meal with his daughter throughout the week. Paloma understands this, and like always she gives him his space and doesn’t complain about it. 

The only reason she’s stuck around Seminary for so long is for him. He wouldn’t know what to do without her.

“Well I’m glad things are lookin’ up, finally. Can’t wait to meet this sharp thinkin’ Javier.” They finish setting up and Paloma excuses herself to go get changed into something a little more dressy seeing as her father was looking more put together than usual.

He must really be trying to make an impression.

Her room is on the second floor, alongside her childhood playroom and the empty room that contained some miscellaneous items.

Like her mother’s things.

Paloma always has a habit of letting her gaze linger at the closed, white wooden door of the room every time she passes it. In a strange way, she feels like her mother is standing behind that door; just waiting for her to open it and greet her like her daughter wishes she could.

But she hardly ever does, the sorrow feeling in her chest too heavy for her to bear being in there for longer than a few minutes.

She passes it with a quick glance, now entering her bedroom and throwing open her wardrobe doors. It’s a mess, like it usually is, but it’s an organized chaos that only Paloma Leighton could decipher. 

After eyeing some outfits, she decides on a cream toned, linen romper with shorts. It has a deep V cut in the front that tastefully exposed some of the tanned skin between her breasts. However, she puts on a matching lace bralette underneath to soften the risqué of the outfit.

Her hair is the brown of aged mahogany. Long and thick, it falls almost to her waist and she does nothing but brush it out. It naturally falls the way she likes. A beautifully sculpted cross necklace hangs from her neck; it was her mother’s and she’d given it to Paloma shortly before passing. She finishes getting ready by spritzing some of her perfume and applying lip gloss before sauntering down the steps.

She hears the soft sound of her father’s record playing some old school country tune, the song sounding throughout the house and she smiles gently. She crosses the threshold and is out on the porch to gather her things from earlier when she catches the headlights of a vehicle coming down the elongated driveway of the property.

That must be him.

“Daddy, your friend’s here!”

Javier got a chance to get to get acquainted with the town before his dinner with the sheriff. He wandered around the shops and establishments that littered the main street of Seminary, drove the backroads then up and down the highway a few times to get a feel for how he would approach his new job. 

The conclusion he’s come to is that the town, for the most part, is harmless. But he’s only been here one afternoon so what the hell does he know?

After his exploration, he finally made it to the place he would be calling home until further notice. A dingy yet quaint trailer home located on about two acres of land. It has everything he requires. Furnished neatly and stocked with all the cooking utensils he could ever need but ultimately never use. Javier found himself more comfortable after unpacking the few items he’d brought along with him.

Maybe his father was right. Maybe he can finally slip into some normalcy.

But he’s only been here one afternoon so what the hell does he know?

After a stop at the local bakery, an ‘if you blink you’ll miss it’ type of establishment, and the purchase of some homemade banana pudding; the man is driving up a dirt path to Romeo’s home.

The sheriff lives on an impressive mount of land, his house looking like something plucked straight out of an old southern painting. A large, two story home with a wraparound porch. A typical white picket fence surrounds the immediate area. The landscaping is beautiful, it looks very well tended to and he can hear Chucho’s voice ringing in the back of his head.

“¿Vez? Que te dije (see? what did I tell you)— peaceful.” 

He cuts the engine of his Ford, checking his appearance in the rearview mirror before grabbing the tinfoil container from the passenger’s seat and getting out.

The first thing he sees as he approaches the front door are long, tan legs that lead up to some full and soft looking thighs that instantly have him licking his lips.

And who is this?

“Good evening, ma’am.” His deep voice cuts through the sound of the summer evening, his Texan accent thick. The sounds of toads croaking in the distance and different insects chirping about set a pleasant ambiance for the southern night.

The woman stands alert at the sound of his voice and turns to face him, which causes Javi to damn near lose his breath at the sight of the beauty in front of him.

It is the same woman that Romeo had shown him earlier, except the picture didn’t do her natural beauty any justice. She’s got the most gorgeous features he’s ever seen on a woman, and he’s been around a lot of beautiful women. 

Her lips are pouty and pink, the gloss she’s wearing accentuates their plushness so well. Honey colored brown eyes that even from where he stands can see twinkle with curiosity beneath the soft porch lights. Freckles sprinkle across her nose and the tops of her cheeks complimented by her natural blush. 

Damn.

“You must be Javier. I’m Paloma, Romeo’s daughter.” She smiles at him in which he can’t help but mirror as she sets down the guitar in her possession and he slowly walks up the porch steps.

Well, this certainly is a pleasant surprise. When Paloma’s father had told her about the new guy that was joining the department, she just pictured some run of the mill, old looking man. One that looked like every other one of his colleagues. 

She most definitely wasn’t expecting such a handsome man like the one that’s in front of her.

“Paloma.” The way her name falls from his lips with a Spanish accent has her stomach erupting in butterflies.

She’s never heard anyone say it like that.

“Beautiful name. Very fitting.” The flirtatious compliment is one she’s heard too many times to count, but hearing it come from him makes it feel like the sweetest thing she’s ever heard. Their close proximity has her catching a whiff of his cologne mixed with.. cigarettes?

Her thighs clench involuntarily.

Javier takes her hand in his as she extends it to greet him. Instead of going in for a handshake, he brings it up to his lips and places a soft kiss against her knuckles. It has her tingling all over; electricity sprouting from the spot where the kiss is planted. She can’t help the way her blush deepens at the action, and she almost wants to slap herself for reacting so easily.

Dating isn't a priority in Paloma’s life. Any man worth having in this town is already taken and the rest are nothing but a waste of time. Just some fun for her to have, hooking up with a handful of them whenever her fingers couldn’t get the job done. 

It is rare when there's an eligible newcomer and even then she is too preoccupied with keeping the family home in shape and her music to even think about dating. She is aware of the way the gossips in town talk about her, disliking that she is a single and childless twenty-six year old woman.

“She should be married by now. At her age I already had three kids.”

“It’s so sad, really.”

“I’ve heard she’s given it up to about half the boys in town.”

They gasp and glance over at her over their shoulders. Paloma pretends she doesn’t see them do this.

Her true love, aside from music, is that of traveling. She wants nothing more than to leave Seminary all together and head west, see what the rest of the world has to offer. Take a chance on her music... make a name for herself.

Unfortunately for her, she’s got some heavy family ties here in Texas (her father) and after the death of her mother— she wouldn’t dare leave him. The guilt would eat her alive.

Was it fair for her to give up her aspirations just to keep one person happy? No… but things aren’t always fair and she has a decent life here in Seminary. She doesn't have to worry about paying any bills or surviving on her own; though she knows she’s more than capable of doing so if she really had to. She only has that job at the library to help pass the time whenever she’s not buried in a book or playing her day away on the piano. Any money she receives is stashed away in an old jewelry box in the back of her closet in case one day she finally decides to leave.

All that to say that romantically, men aren't something she focuses on. However, this man in particular, she could spare some of her attention to. Something about his swagger is attractive. He shifts his weight onto one foot and pokes his hip out slightly; giving her a good view of his built figure.

“Clever and charming. Guess daddy was right about you.” Paloma cocks her head to the side slightly, taking in his appearance better now that he was closer and damn, is he handsome. The type of handsome that you only see on TV. 

He’s clad in a long sleeve, forest colored shirt with a few buttons undone at the top; a gold chain teasing her against his brown skin. He’s rolled the sleeves up on the shirt up to his elbows and she notices how rugged he looks, veins on his forearms flexing ever so slightly. Tight cowboy jeans are paired with some expensive looking brown leather boots and a nice belt to tie it all in together.

Her eyes travel up from his body to his countenance, noticing how truly handsome and mature he is. Like he’s experienced things she’d never come close to imagining. She wants to know it all. The full 70s looking pornstache above his lip somehow very appealing to Paloma, whose ‘type’ up until this moment has been clean cut, military boys.

He is anything but clean cut, and she likes that. 

His lips full, nose very distinguished with a devilish curve and… stable looking. A perfect seat for her to perch herself on. She can practically feel it nudging against her clit before he completely devours her.

A lazy yet cocky lopsided smile tugs at his lips, as if he can see the filthy thoughts in her head. “Already talking me up, I see.” he greets Romeo, whom Paloma hadn’t realized had stepped outside since she was too preoccupied eye fucking the stranger in front of her. 

“Didn’t tell her nothin’ that wasn’t true. What’s that you got there?” The older man gestures to the container.

“I could spot Betty’s homemade banana puddin’ with my eyes closed.” Paloma speaks up, trying to recover from the slight embarrassment she feels for thinking so sinfully about him.

Javier’s onyx colored eyes meet hers again and she looks away almost bashfully, occupying herself by finally gathering her things.

“I couldn’t show up empty handed. Ma woulda slapped me right upside the head. Where are your manners, niño (boy) ?” He does what she would assume is an impression of his mother and this gets a giggle out of her.

She is utterly interested in getting to know him better.

“On behalf of us, you can thank your mother for instilling manners into ya. Come on in, we cleaned for once.” He jokes, ushering his company in and she just rolls her eyes playfully at her father’s antics.

The night turns out to be very enjoyable for Javi. He is in good company and the dinner provided, cooked by Paloma since she didn’t let her father take credit for any of it, definitely helped soothe over some of the smaller, sore spots left by Colombia. 

They laugh and swap stories, Javier shares some of his more lighthearted moments in the country down south while Paloma and Romeo try to out-embarrass each other with different family tales.

It helps to have some eye candy, though, as he finds it difficult to keep his eyes away from her longer than a few seconds. Even while the sheriff is in direct conversation with him, Javier can see her from his peripheral and how she also can’t seem to peel her gaze from him.

Murphy always gave him a ‘hard time’ about his effect on women and how Javier used it to his advantage. It’s the only way he got shit rollin’ down in Colombia. The only people that approached him willingly were the working ladies that resided in the city.

And who was he to turn down a good, even great time?

Quickly enough, word had spread amongst the girls and next thing he knew; he had a list of ‘informants’ so long that even he began to lose track.

It was simple, getting information from them then taking them back to his place… his car… or the bar restroom. Whatever was most convenient.

Most of the time they would come to him with bullshit leads just to see him again, and most of the time he would just give them what they wanted, which was just another blissful night with Agent Peña.

Something about Paloma, however, gives him the impression that he wouldn’t fuck her how he did those girls down south. Not unless she asked… begged him to, at least.

He’d make sure to kiss every inch of her golden skin, make her feel good and satisfied before burying himself deep inside her. What’d he do to see those pretty lips parted with his name falling from them like a prayer.

“You should sing him somethin’. ”

Romeo’s suggestion has Javier raising his brows and snapping him out of his thoughts.

They’ve moved out onto the porch, taking in the peacefulness of the night and the clear view of all stars the littered the unobscured sky. The banana pudding long gone.

“I am not some show pony you can just make do tricks whenever you like, old man.” She retorts playfully from her spot on the top of the porch steps, meddling with the rings on her fingers.

From this angle, Javier is able to get a better look at those thighs he’s been fantasizing about all night. Is it a terrible move to go after your quote un quote ‘bosses’ daughter after just meeting her? Probably, but Javi’s done worse and he’s picked up that she seems to be very keen to his subtle advances. Or not subtle, depending on how well he is able to hide any type of direct flirtation with his natural charisma.

“You shy to?” Javi asks her, lighting the cigarette that rests between his lips. He is a pro at chain smoking, this making it the fourth one he’s smoked in the last hour that they’ve been out here. 

She snorts, shaking her head and looking over at him. When their gazes meet, he can’t help the shadow of a smirk hover his lips and she slightly narrows her eyes at him.

“That one? Shy? The last damn word I’d use to describe her.” Romeo takes a swig from the scotch he’s poured, pointing at his daughter. “Sometimes I can’t get her to shut up.”

“Wow, and father of the year goes to…” She replies sarcastically, standing which allows Javier to let his eyes linger over her body, taking a long drag from the cigarette to keep his perverted thoughts at bay.

Like how he wanted to feel her thighs wrapped around his waist. Or better, his head.

“I’m just teasin’. She’s got such an angelic voice, I never get tired of hearin’ her sing.” The sincerity in Romeo’s tone pulls Javier out of his ogling, attention now over to the older man. 

“You should come see her at The Whiskey Fox weekend nights. Puts on one hell of a show.” She leans back against the railing, crossing one foot over the other. This causes the shorts of her romper to rise up slightly, exposing more of her skin.

Like a moth to a flame, he’s eyeing her once more but doesn’t make it as obvious. He wouldn't want to be chased out of here by a shotgun wielding, overprotective father.

“Is The Whiskey Fox the spot to go to in town?” Javier asks to no one in particular, ashing his cigarette on the small plate that sits on the small table between him and the sheriff.

“More like the only spot in town. It’s a bar with a stage, n’they have the best loaded fries. Swear.” She informs him, once again commanding his undivided attention.

No matter how many times he looks at her, he’s still taken aback by how breathtakingly beautiful she is.

“Well if you swear then I guess I’ll have to stop by some time.” He nods his head towards her and she smiles softly, pushing herself off the railing.

“Just give me a heads up when you decide to make your first appearance.” He hears a hint of flirtatiousness in her statement, as if she’s rolling the ball in his court to make the first move. 

As badly as he wants to take her up on that, thinking on a whim like he always has; Javier stops from doing so. This was a chance for him to start anew, amend for all the mistakes he made in Colombia.

But she’s making it very difficult for him to.

Did he really have any intention of changing if all it takes to throw caution in the wind is one pretty girl?

“As much as I’d love to stay in the pleasure of y’alls company….” She runs her hands down the front of her outfit and begins to head inside, “I have to be up early to open the library. You still takin’ me, daddy?” She asks the sheriff softly, stopping by the front door and Javier looks away, glancing out into the distance.

The older man grumbles out, “Yeah. We gotta get that car of yours up and runnin’ though. Don’t know how many free rides I got left in me.” The statement piques Javier’s interest and he can’t help but to rejoin the conversation.

“Got car problems?” He looks between them two, gaze lingering over her as she speaks up. 

“Yeah, my Darla quit on me ‘bout a month ago. Mechanic in town can’t seem to fix the problem.” Paloma seems annoyed by that fact and that has him offering to help before his own brain can stop him from doing so.

“I restored my truck. Had some help from my pops but I pretty much got her up and runnin’ all by myself.” Javier takes another puff of his cigarette, keeping a small smirk at bay as he catches Paloma’s attention drift over to his vehicle in interest. “I wouldn’t mind takin’ a look at yours. If that’s okay. ”

Her father also lets out a sign of content, “That’d be fuckin’ great, Javi. Godsend this guy, poppin’ into town and helpin’ me solve all my goddamn problems. What’s it been— not even a day? Shiiit.” Romeo lets out a laugh, finishing off the contents in his short glass.

Javier would usually find this amount of praise annoying–– ass kissing to keep him content in the shitty position he’s been put it in. However, in this instance, he doesn’t really mind it. It would also give him an opportunity to get to know Paloma better without it crossing over into more nefarious territory.

“Yeah, very sweet of you. I’d really appreciate that.” Yet another glimpse of her enchanting smile. She bends down to place a kiss on her father’s cheek and then waves at him. “Good night y’all. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Peña.” Even though Javi had already told her to call him by his first name earlier, he can’t help but enjoy the way his surname pushes past her lips. That sweet voice of hers sounding like pure honey.