Page 71 of Invisible String (The Underground #1)

For dinner, we went to a Japanese protein restaurant.

It was simple. I don’t need anything extravagant.

Being with Max is all I need. After dinner, before we walked in the door, he had me pinned to the wall.

Like always, he shows me how much I mean to him.

With his touch, his beautiful words… Did I say touch?

His hands are always on me, regardless of where we are or what we are doing.

Max is someone I couldn’t bear to live without.

This is why I feel guilty parked in front of his dad’s house.

I’m hiding shit from him. He would never want me to meet his dad in his condition and in danger myself.

I’m not sure how violent this man is. I had asked Max if, when he goes to check on him, his dad has ever tried hitting him.

Max only laughed and said, “I think the old man knows better. I’m not a child.

” So here I am, with a baseball bat in my hand, while I exit the car.

I’m a stubborn woman; I fought with Johnny to park on the side of the street far from view.

And begged him not to tell Max. The house Max grew up in is beautiful.

Okay, scratch that. He didn’t grow up here.

Although he was here for a short time. It’s an older home but beautiful with a green lawn, unlike the cookie-cutter homes being built now.

One, two, three knocks in a row. My heart is beating like crazy, and my palms are sweating.

Breathe, Rainey.

The door cracks open. My jaw drops when a man stands in front of me who shares Max’s tan skin, sharp jawline, and broad shoulders. He looks like an older version of Max. Despite the dark circles beneath his eyes, he remains handsome. His gray beard is unkempt, and there’s a scent of alcohol on him.

“Mr. Cano.”

“What do you want? Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested,” he snarls.

I swallow. “Umm, no. I’m not selling anything.”

“Then what do you want?” He eyes the baseball bat. “Are you here to rob me? Because I have shit for money, just booze, and you don’t look like a woman who’s capable of killing a man.”

“No, I’m not here to rob you, but if you lay a hand on me, I won’t hesitate to knock you out. I would like to speak to you. I’m Rainey, your son’s girlfriend.”

He’s taken aback with furrowed brows. He’s not slurring, which means he’s not drunk. It’s close to eleven in the morning.

“I didn’t know he had a woman. Why are you here? Did he leave you pregnant, and do you need money? Because he has money.”

I sigh. “May I come in?”

He surveys the area. “You’re alone? Where’s Max?”

“He’s at work. He doesn’t know I’m here,” I admit. I honestly don’t think he’ll get violent and hit me.

He nods and steps back, allowing me to enter. The house is somewhat clean except for dirty dishes, bottles, cans of beer, and the stench of something rotten.

“So you’re dating Max. Did he tell you he killed my wife? He’s the reason she’s not here. He’s going to do the same to you. He’s good at destroying everything. He’s a bastard, a selfish one.”

Venom races through my veins. How he speaks of his son. A child—Max was only a child.

“Enough! How dare you badmouth your only son? He was in that accident as well. He could have died.” I keep my voice from breaking.

“He didn’t. I lost my wife, my everything?—”

“He lost more. He lost his mother, his father, love, a family. He lost the security of a loving family. He lost trust in people.” I walk toward the fireplace mantel and pick up a photo of Max and his mother.

My eyes water. What a beautiful photo of such a beautiful woman.

Max gets his smile and the color of his eyes from her.

“You beat him. The scars on his back are from you.”

“I…I didn’t leave him scarred.”

Of course, he doesn’t remember that he was drunk every time he’d hit him.

“You did. That’s why he was taken away from you.”

He nods. “Yeah, from a little bruise, but not from me.”

“Mr. Cano?—”

“Call me Hector.”

“Hector, either you’re in denial or you were too drunk, but you know what I think? It’s both.”

Hector goes to sit in an old rocker.

“Max lived from foster home to foster home. He was mistreated, starved, abused, and scarred by others, not just yours. I’m sure there are other things that happened in those homes I don’t know about.”

The rocker stops moving. He’s gone still.

I continue. “Even after everything you put him through, he still shows up to help your drunk ass. The only person who has a fault in all of this is you,” I bellow, my throat going dry.

I point at him. “It was not his fault his mother passed. Max was an innocent child. He wanted to go to practice, and that didn’t make it his fault.

He needed you. Max was grieving, also, but you didn’t give him the chance to.

No, you beat him, punished him for something out of his control. ”

Angerly wiping my tears, I reach for the twenty-four-pack of beer he has lying in the living room. He lifts his hand out as if I was going to hand it to him. Can by can, I drain it. Hector stays silent.

“You were supposed to keep him safe,” I yell, throwing the empty cans in the trash. Then I grab the picture of Max with his mother. I shove it in his face. “What would your wife think of you now? What would she say? You didn’t keep her precious child safe and loved.”

“Get the fuck out!” Hector’s voice roars like thunder.

I’m hitting where it hurts. “Fuck you.” God, I’m being disrespectful to Max’s father, but fuck him.

“I’m not leaving. What would your wife think of you?

Tell me? She would hate you for what you’ve done.

You sent her baby away without fighting to get him back.

” My voice breaks. I shake my head at him.

“I thought a nice family adopted him.” Hector’s voice drops to a low mumble.

“What would make you think that? You never asked him.”

“A year later, after they took him, I went to speak with his caseworker, and they said he was in a good home. That he would be better off than with me. I believed it. I caused him pain. His mom was gone, I figured he could have a better life.”

“He didn’t. Max hadn’t been adopted. When he turned eighteen, he was out of the system. He’s been through a lot. He was homeless for some time, although Carlos has been there for him. Max is not one to take handouts.”

Hector runs his hands through his hair, his hands shaking. “Carlos didn’t adopt him? I’ve seen him on TV with him. I thought it was him.” He reaches for a bottle of tequila and then takes a shot.

Beneath the surface is a man suffering profoundly from the loss of his wife who also clearly regrets losing his son and the way he mistreated him.

He masks these feelings with anger as a way to manage his sorrow.

Perhaps he initially blamed Max, but I suspect that feeling vanished when Max was sent away from him, as he attempted to bring him back.

It seemed easier for him to remain angry rather than admit his mistakes.

“No, he was never adopted,” I repeat. I’m glad Andrew’s parents never did. Max is too good for them. I know I’m close to breaking this man into admitting the truth. “Your wife, she’s beautiful,” I say, pointing at the photo.

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I can’t breathe without her. I don’t know how.” His voice cracks.

“I understand, not completely, but I understand the feeling of loving that much. I’ve tried living without him, and my life was turned upside down.” I dust a crumb off a chair and sit. “You had a son to live for, to grieve with who you and your wife created. He has his mother’s eyes and her smile.”

“He has her laugh,” he adds.

“I bet she’s rolling over in her grave, Hector. She trusted you with her son.”

His chin trembles.

“Tell me, what would she say?”

My heart splinters into a thousand pieces as this man crumbles before me. His body shakes with the force of his sobs. Tears well up in my eyes, threatening to overflow. He unleashes a torrent of anguish, years upon years of suppressed grief and guilt pouring out in a relentless flood.

My feet move slowly toward him. He’s dropped to the floor on his knees, crying.

I’m unsure if I should comfort him with a hug.

Although he might not deserve it, he’s not a bad man.

Hector made horrible mistakes that traumatized the love of my life, but Max must have already forgiven him since he helps his father.

I kneel next to him and pat him on the back.

He doesn’t push me away, only continues to sob.

“She would hate me,” he whispers. “She’s angry with me.” He bawls, and I continue to rub his back. “I love them,” Hector adds minutes later.

I nod, even though he can’t see it. My chest feels heavy with emotions.

“Hector, would you consider getting help?” He doesn’t answer me, so I stay silent, giving him time.

“I hope to have kids someday. Max wants kids, too.” He lifts his head up, so I continue.

“He wants to marry me, and I can’t wait.

We were fourteen when we met at a school in Carson City.

I asked him to kiss me.” I giggle at the memory.

“Then the next day, he was gone. I didn’t see him again for seven years.

We had a summer fling, but he left because he didn’t think he was good enough for me and broke my heart.

Then we found each other four years later. ”

“He spoke of you years ago. He was helping me to bed and must have thought I was drunk—passed out, but I remember. It reminded me of how I see Marabel. You want kids?”

I retrieve a tissue from my purse, then hand it to him. “I do. I would love to have a little Max running around.”

“Marabel always wanted us to have more kids. She would have loved to be a grandmother.”

From what Max has told me, he’s never spoken of her to him. I’m certain this is the first time in years he’s talked about his wife.

“I haven’t visited her grave in years. I couldn’t after how I treated Max. I still blame him when he comes over. When I’m drunk, I know it’s not.”

I give him space.

Fifteen minutes pass in silence, and I quietly scroll through my work emails.

“I’m tired of this life of living without Marabel,” he finally mumbles.

I want to earn my spot with my wife when the day comes.

I want to be a father or whatever Max wants.

I’m tired of drinking—of loneliness. I want to be a grandfather. I want help.”

A relief of tears erupts from my chest. The tightness I had been feeling eased.

Johnny is trailing behind us. He promised to keep quiet, not to say a word to Max.

Hector drums his index finger on his knee.

Before coming here to Hector’s, I called a rehab place in Utah that has outstanding reviews unlike the places in Vegas, which is only hours away.

I was determined to get him there today.

A van will meet me at a certain location in the south of Vegas to take him to the rehabilitation center.

Hector left a note for Max letting him know he would be gone for some time.

He didn’t tell him where. I asked him not to say anything until he’s clean and is seeing a therapist. It’s going to be tough to hide this from Max.

I hope this doesn’t come back to kick me in the butt.

“Max is lucky to have you in his life, and I’m glad he has you. You’re a good person, Rainey. You made an alcoholic see the other side.”

“Soon-to-be recovering alcoholic,” I interject.

“Thank you for giving me the push. I apologize for breaking down on you.”

I shake my head as I flick the signal light to turn left, watching the rhythmic blinking of the arrow on the dashboard as it ticks like an impatient metronome. “No, need to apologize. My mother passed a year ago. I know grief.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

I simply nod, swallowing the pain of losing her.

We arrive at the Calms Inn hotel, and a white van waits in the parking lot. “That’s the rehabilitation center’s transport. The facility looked beautiful on their website, with a great, relaxing view, and it is the best one.”

“Thank you again. My Marabel would have loved you. You remind me so much of her. She had a beautiful heart, and it’s no wonder she sent you to Max. She knew you’d be perfect for him.”

Hector takes his luggage and rolls it to the van. The man has me sign paperwork, and I agree to visits. However, I’m not sure I should. I’m angry, but also feel remorse for him.

Hector gives me a nod and gets in the van. Air leaves my lungs, relief filling me that Max might get a chance to heal. If Hector follows the program, maybe they can make peace.