Rafael (The Santiago Brothers Book One) by K. Victoria Chase

Jennings
played softball in her youth and held the record for the most
homeruns in her college women’s team’s history. She could swing a
bat and hit her mark. “I know you can, Mrs. Jennings, but I’d feel
better if an officer was out here with you. Plus, you have my cell
number. You know you can call me.”
    One hand still holding the bat, she used the
other to adjust her nightcap. “I know I can. It didn’t happen that
long ago, and I didn’t want your house broken into while I was
trying to dial your number. My bat is next to the front door, so I
just came out. And you have that big case you’re working on. I can
certainly do my part in the neighborhood watch.”
    “Yes, you can, Mrs. Jennings. Thank you for
looking after my place. I appreciate it.” She gave the old lady an
awkward pat on the forearm. “Now, let me walk you back home and you
can tell me about what you saw.”
    Shadows. Mrs. Jennings could only make out a
shadow of something or someone along the side of Genie’s house.
Mrs. Jennings was a sprightly woman in her seventies, and although
Genie didn’t doubt she saw something, she couldn’t eliminate the
possibility the woman’s eyes were playing tricks on her. After
walking Mrs. Jennings home, Genie returned to her own home and
checked the locks on all her doors and windows. Nothing seemed out
of the ordinary.
    Then she heard the unmistakable jiggle of the
screen door on her back porch. Genie froze. She slipped her gun
from the holster and silently moved towards her kitchen. She
pressed her back to the wall, out of the view of the back door.
Closing her eyes, she slowed her breathing, straining to hear any
other sound. Nothing. The door shook again. Genie opened her eyes,
and rounded the corner.
     
    ****
     
    Rafa chewed gingerly on his medium rare steak
and listened as his mother chatted about everything and everyone.
Not much had changed in the lives of the people she knew. The old
neighborhood remained the same; even this steak restaurant — one of
his mother’s favorites — was still as packed as he’d always
remembered. Truth was, he had returned several times to the East
Coast over the last decade but never stayed longer than a day or
two. Usually he was passing by, either traveling with friends or
attending specialized training. He never mustered the courage to
see his mother, though. Couldn’t stomach the rejection he knew
she'd reap on him when she saw his face. She laughed while
retelling a story about something a friend of hers from church had
said. Rafa smiled. No rejection: just love, peace, and
acceptance.
    “ Have I
told you how happy I am to have you home, hijo ?”
    “Many times, Mamá. But you don’t have to stop
saying it.”
    His mother glowed with pride. Emotion choked
in his throat. The pride was for him. Despite all he had done
wrong, he still made her proud. “Mamá, I’m sorry,” he
whispered.
    “ For
what, hijo ?” She
placed a tiny, chilled hand on his, worry lines creasing her
brow.
    “For everything. Everything I ever did,
everything I ever said or didn’t say.”
    Tears lined the lids of his mother’s eyes.
“No, my son.”
    “I was awful to you. I was—” He dropped his
gaze to the table, blinking away the hot sting in the back of his
eyes. “Can you please forgive me?” He had agonized over his
mother’s denial. Despite the warm reception the other day, she
still might remember his dismissal of her and decide to change her
mind. His stomach knotted at the thought.
    She called often enough when he first moved
out to California. In the beginning, he wouldn’t answer the phone
or return her calls. Being forced to leave home at eighteen angered
him. Then he considered his older brother Alejandro. Ale decided to
live with their mother’s father in Texas. In the first year after
Ale left, he had contacted Rafa, saying he enjoyed life. It was
freedom. No parents, no rules. So when their mother had told Rafa
it was time for him to move out, he