Page 99 of Unbreakable Thread

Max begins rocking my hips. “It will because I will drive you.”

I shake my head. “That’s not…” I moan when his thumb rubs me on my sensitive spot. “Necessary,” I say.

“I know it’s just that I’m going to have to have Johnny and Gary drive my dad around. Right now, anything could trigger a craving for a drink. I can’t have him home alone all day.” His hand slows down. “I’m not trying to be controlling or anything like that.” He pauses. “…it’s just that I can’t fathom something happening to you…like my mom…”

“I know,” I say softly.

“I’d never be the same person without you, but I’d never stop being a father to our kids.”

I know he’s not trying to be controlling. His mother’s death left a hole in his heart, especially because he witnessed it. “I understand, Max. But there will come a time when you will have to trust me. We can’t live in fear all our lives,” I say, my voice low.

“I know. After I teach you how to reverse, switch lanes while looking at your rearview mirror, and…” He puffs air. “There is a lot to teach you.”

I roll my eyes. How dramatic.

“Maybe, we need a full-time chauffeur,” he mumbles. Then we both sniff the air.

I roll off Max. “It smells good. Your dad must be cooking.” I’m not sure what he’s making, but my stomach growls. “Shit, what if he heard us?”

“Nah, I gave him noise-canceling headphones.”

I cover my face. “Oh God, how embarrassing. He must know.”

Max shrugs, getting off the bed. “He’s a grown-ass man. And he seems excited, I got you pregnant.”

Hector is thrilled, but I know Max is still on the fence about him. I’m sure it’s odd to see him now as a different person after so many years. The way it should have been. “He is,” I admit.

“Let’s just hope he keeps his shit together if he wants to be in our lives.”

I nod in understanding. I hope so too.

I follow him into the steamy shower. He suddenly starts laughing.

“What is it?” I ask, grinning, at how cute he looks. My heart melts all over again. He’s come a long way. He smiles more, laughs… He’s happy.

“I can’t believe you went to my dad’s with a baseball bat.”

“He told you?”

“Yup.” He reaches for shampoo. “That’s my girl. I’m proud of you, but how did you know the address? I know there’s Google and all.”

I lather bodywash on his chest. “Carlos gave it to me.”

He knits his brows together, and he thinks for like thirty seconds, then says, “Carlos doesn’t know where he lives.” The shampoo bottle is still in his hand. He hasn’t connected it yet.

What the fuck?

“Umm, what do you mean? You never gave him the address?”

“No.”

The water keeps running. Neither of us says anything for a moment. He squirts shampoo on my hair.

We chat about other things, but I can’t help but think that Carlos never went to see Hector to offer him help. Now that I know who Carlos really is, it’s not unbelievable.

The mingled aromas of fried eggs and spicy chili become more insistent with each creaking step we take down the staircase. Max and I come to a halt. Hector stands in front of the stove, freshly showered in a clean shirt, hair combed, humming something low under his breath. A towel drapes over his shoulder while he flips an egg. The kitchen looks different with someone who’s not Max or me cooking. Steam rolls off the pan. I look at Max. He hasn’t moved from the bottom step, almost as if a ghost is right in front of him, giving him childhood memories. Daisy stands beside him, waiting for anything to drop. Hector's head jolts up when Daisy spots us.

“Good morning.”