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They have my son.
I try to take Cat’s weight under my shoulder, but the second I do, she pulls away. She wobbles for a second, unsteady on her own two feet, before grabbing onto the door again to even herself out.
She clearly doesn’t want my help, and it only serves to get me all the more riled up. What the fuck is her deal? I’m the one who should be angry here.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. It’s a stupid question. I already know what’s wrong. Everything.
“Where have you been?” she suddenly breaks. Pain fills her voice and tears well up in her eyes. I can see Oscar in Cat’s scrunched up nose as she tries not to cry.
We need to talk.
But first, I need to tell Juan what’s going on. I let my hand fall onto Cat’s as she steadies herself against the car door. This time, she doesn’t pull away. “I’ll be right back,” I swear, before turning from her.
I gesture Juan forward and Aldar follows close behind. “So, this plane is going to go get the gear?” Juan asks. “How long will that take?”
“Hopefully no more than two days.”
“Probably more than that,” Juan grumbles.
“Where’s it going?” Aldar asks.
France. Ireland. Morocco. “Overseas,” I reply, purposefully vague. Aldar may have earned my respect by taking care of Cat for me, but it takes a little longer to earn my trust.
“And what’s it bringing back?”
“Firepower.”
“Enough to take down a fucking army,” Juan smirks.
I look over my shoulder, back at Catalina. She’s glaring at us like a vengeful ghost. We’re not moving fast enough. Our baby’s at risk, and in her eyes, we’re just standing around catching up.
I need to tell her wha
t’s going on. “You guys go check it out, make sure there’s enough room for everything. I’m going to talk to Cat.”
I see them off, then turn back to my real duty.
The sharp heaviness that I’ve desperately been trying to ignore over the past few days finds its way back into the forefront of my mind. The only thing that keeps me from crumpling over is the knowledge that Cat’s feeling the same awful thing.
We may be failures, but at least we can wallow in our misery together.
... Or maybe not. I just don’t know what kind of company she’s going to make right now.
“I’m sorry,” those are the first words out of my mouth. It seems like Cat is the only person who’s ever made me feel so apologetic. Sure, I forgave Juan upon my return to Colombia, but I don’t think I would have ever even done that if Cat hadn’t taught me how to first.
I wonder if any of this would have happened if she hadn’t changed me so much...
“Sorry for what!?” her response is cutting, but for some reason it gives me hope. Do I sense that same fire in her that I first fell for?
“Well, now I’m sorry for apologizing,” I bite back.
Cat doesn’t flinch. She looks fed up and too exhausted to mask any true feelings, no matter how raw.
“What’s going to happen?” she asks, her lower lip trembling.
I keep my response simple. “We’re going to get Oscar back.”
“And then?”