Page 65 of Hate That Blooms
Joaquín
Iwalk up the front steps behind Gabriela, my heart still pounding in my chest, though it’s not from the party anymore. The music, the loud conversations, the flashing lights—all of that fades away once we step inside the house, and the quiet of her home wraps around us like a blanket. Gabriela leads the way, and I follow her without question, feeling like I’m drifting along with the pull of gravity.
She’s my gravity.
Mireya’s asleep in my arms; thank God. I hate to admit it, but I’ve been so on edge these past few weeks, caught between wanting to make things right and fearing that I’ve already ruined my chances with her. But this moment? It feels like a chance to breathe, like something between us can still be salvaged, even after everything that’s happened.
Gabriela turns to me, taking her sister from my arms, but before she disappears down the hallway. She gives me a smile, soft, knowing. It’s that same smile that tells me she knows I’m still here, still trying. Words are like band-aids—they can cover the wound, but they can’t heal it. I’ve been doing everything I can toshowher, to prove to her I can be what she needs.
“Go ahead and sit down,” she says when she returns, her voice light, but there’s something underneath it—something deeper, heavier. She watches me for a second before she moves to walk past me.
I sit on the couch, letting my hands fall into my lap. The cushions are soft beneath me, but it feels like I’m sitting on a bed of needles, the anticipation making every muscle in my body tense. I wait, trying to calm my breath, knowing that this moment has been a long time coming—the talk. And I don’t want to mess this up.
Gabriela goes into the kitchen and returns a moment later with two drinks, and I’m surprised when, after setting them on the coffee table, she doesn’t sit beside me. Instead, she crawls into my lap, straddling me, her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity I don’t know how to handle. For a second, I freeze, unsure of what’s happening. My chest tightens as she rests her head against my shoulder.
“I know this is what you wanted, right?” She murmurs, her breath warm against my skin. “I’ve been waiting for you to figure things out, Joaquín. I’ve never stopped wanting you.”
I swallow hard, the weight of her words settling over me like a weight I’ve been carrying for too long. “I know,” I say, my voice rough and bringing my arms around her, holding her to my chest. “I know I screwed up, Gabriela. I’ve been thinking about it—about how I treated you. How I hurt you. How I treated you like you were the one who deserved to bear all of the pain.”
Her fingers play with the collar of my shirt, and the way she’s touching me makes it harder to breathe, but I don’t pull away. I can’t. “I know I messed up. But when my mom left—I was hurting. And I thought... I thought if I could just take it out on someone, it would make me feel better. That someone was you and it was so fucking convenient that you were his daughter. But it didn’t make me feel better. It only made things worse. You were the last person I should have turned that anger toward.”
I let out a shaky breath, my chest tight with regret. “I should have never done those things to you. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve me at my worst. Then it ended with you getting — when you got?—”
I hear the quiet intake of her breath, feel her body shift in my lap, and then she leans back slightly, her eyes scanning my face like she’s searching for something—maybe the truth, maybe some shred of honesty I haven’t shown her yet. But when she speaks, her words aren’t laced with anger. Instead, there’s tenderness in her tone, something that feels like forgiveness.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, her voice making my heart skip a beat. “I’m proud of how far you’ve come. You’ve been working on yourself, Joaquín. You’re not running anymore. I see it.”
I swallow thickly, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “I want to be better for you. For me. For us. But I know I can’t erase the things I’ve done. The hurt I’ve caused.” I rub my hand over my face, trying to will away the guilt that’s been gnawing at me since the moment I saw the damage I caused.
Gabriela leans forward, her hand gently cupping my face. “I don’t need you to erase anything,” she says, her thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “I just need you to keep moving forward. Because I need you.”
Her words linger in the air between us, soft yet firm, like a promise she’s giving me that I know I don’t know if I deserve. But her touch? Her touch is like a balm to the open wound inside of me. Soothing the sting and making me realize all the time away was worth it.
“I want this,” she continues, her eyes locking with mine. “I want to keep working on myself, too. And I want to do it with you. I still want you, Joaquín. All of you. The messy, imperfect, trying-to-do-better version of yourself. Because that’s who you are now. And I’m proud of you for that.”
Her words hit me like a freight train, and for a second, I didn’t know what to say. I don’t know how to respond to this kindness, to this unconditional acceptance that I don’t deserve but desperately need. And in that silence, all I can do is look at her—the woman who’s taken every hurtful thing I ever did to her in my darkest moments—and wonder how I ever got this lucky.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I don’t deserve you,Reina. But I’m going to keep working for you. For us.”
Her lips press gently against mine, silencing the words I don’t know how to say. When she pulls away, I see the soft smile on her face—the one that’s always been my safe place. “You don’t have to be perfect,” she says, her voice so sure. “Just be you. That’s all I need.”
And then, without saying another word, she stands and holds out her hand. “Come on,” she says, her voice teasing, but there’s an edge of something else in it—something that pulls at the core of me. “I think we’ve talked enough for tonight.”
I stand without hesitation, taking her hand in mine as she leads me toward the hallway. Toward her bedroom. I know what she means by that look in her eyes. It’s not just about talking anymore. It’s about moving past everything that’s come before and stepping into something new, something better.
When we reach her bedroom, Gabriela turns to face me, her eyes full of warmth, full of trust. “I meant it, Joaquín. I see a future with you.”
I let out a staggered breath, the weight of her words sinking in deeper than anything else she’s said. I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her, and in that moment, I know with absolute certainty that she’s right. This is what I want, too. This is the future I see—one where we keep healing together, where we keep growing together, no matter how hard it gets.
“I want that, too,” I say, my voice low, barely a whisper against her hair.
And with that, I lift her into my arms, carrying her to the bed like she’s the most precious thing in the world. I know we still have a long way to go and that the road ahead will be messy and difficult. But right now, it feels like we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.
“God, I need you, Quín.” laying her down on the bed, she reaches for me, pulling me on top of her.
This is everything I’ve wanted. Gabriela and I, together in this bed. Her mouth on mine, stealing the very breath from my lungs with each kiss. “Let me close the door so we don’t wake Reya.” I mumble against her lips, kissing her before rising to cross the room to the door. “She doesn’t need to hear all the things I’m about to do to you.”
When the door clicks shut and I turn the lock, I turn to face her. “What are you going to do to me,Quín?Are you going to fuck your step sister in her bed?" The playful look in her eyes and the rise and fall of her chest have me about ready to explode.
