Coming Home to Texas--A Clean Romance Read online

  “Is he sick? Is it progressive? Is it... serious?”

  Alex opened his mouth, then shut it.

  Dalia grabbed his arm. “Alex! Come on. You’re scaring me.”

  He almost looked ready to tell her then. But instead he said again, “Ask him yourself,” and then hurried away.

  She stared after him. She felt sick to her stomach. Why wouldn’t he tell her? Just how bad was it?

  Was Tony sick? Dying?

  She walked slowly back to the bonfire. Tony was in the same place as before, laughing with Short Skirt, but suddenly she could hear how forced the laughter sounded. The whole thing was an act.

  Then he looked at her, and there was something in his face that looked like fear.

  What was going on? What was Tony hiding?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CLARISSA HELD UP her beer to the sky.

  “This is the best night of my life!”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Tony tried to sound interested, but it was uphill work. As far as he was concerned, the night wasn’t all that great. Maybe not the worst of his life, but then it did have a lot of competition for that spot.

  “Of course it is!” said Clarissa. “You know why?”

  “Uh-huh,” Tony said, not really listening, because Dalia was talking to Alex again, and whatever she was saying, she sure looked intent about it.

  Clarissa moved into his sightline. “Well, then? Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Why it’s the best night!”

  “Oh. Um... I don’t know.”

  “Because it’s when I met you, silly!”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Now Dalia was leading Alex away from the bonfire and behind a stand of huisache trees.

  “Where’s your truck?” Clarissa asked. She was standing way too close to him and starting to get on his nerves.

  “How do you know I drive a truck?”

  “I know it instinctively.” She mangled that last word, but he figured it out. “And I’ll bet it’s big and strong and...and shiny, just like you.”

  “It’s pretty nice, yeah. But it’s not here. I came with my brother.”

  His brother, who at this very moment was off somewhere behind the huisache with the girl Tony had loved all his life.

  “Do you live in town?” Clarissa asked.

  “What? Yeah, me and my brother have a place together.”

  “Well, I live alone.”

  Then Alex came back around the huisache, walking fast and looking grim, and Dalia came back, too. She looked at Tony, and there was something in her face that he didn’t know how to read, but it might be the way she’d look if she’d just tried to come on to his brother.

  Clarissa moved into his field of vision and gave him a look like she was waiting for something.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Did you ask me a question?”

  “Has anyone ever told you you have a gorgeous smile?”

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t mean it to be funny, but she laughed, all high and fake and way too loud.

  Then she hooked her fingers into his belt loops and said, “Well, I want to be the reason you’re smiling tomorrow. Let’s get out of here.”

  His attention shifted, and he saw her, really saw her, for the first time—a very attractive young woman who was very into him and also very drunk. He thought a minute, then said, “You wanna go home, huh?”

  “I do. I do want to.”

  “All right, then,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  He walked her to the makeshift parking lot.

  “Here, gimme your keys,” he said, and she handed them over, just like that.

  He scanned the parking lot and saw...

  Aha! Perfect.

  “Hello, Claudia,” he said.

  He walked Clarissa over to Claudia and introduced them.

  Claudia looked at Clarissa and smiled. “Oh, yes, I’ve known Clarissa since she was a little girl.”

  Clarissa stood up a little straighter. “Hello, Ms. Cisneros.”

  Tony handed Clarissa’s keys to Claudia. “Clarissa is ready to go home now. Will you make sure she gets there safely?”

  “Absolutely. Come on, mija.”

  “Good night,” Tony called as they walked away.

  “Good night,” they both replied. Clarissa didn’t sound all that happy with him, but oh well.

  * * *

  TONY LAY ON his back with his eyes shut, listening to the wind rustling in the elm branches overhead. The sounds of celebration were dim out here, on the bank of the stock pond where Dalia had led Tony eight years ago at her brother’s party, where they’d seen the raccoon family and heard the rutting axis deer, where they’d had their first kiss. Or was it their first kiss? Did the one back in seventh grade count? What was he supposed to call it? Their first official, legit, grown-up kiss? They’d never really settled the issue, and he guessed they never would.

  “Tony?”

  Tony sat up. “Alex. What’re you doing here?”

  “Looking for you. The bonfire’s out and it’s time to go home.”

  “How’d you find me? This place isn’t exactly on the beaten path.”

  Alex shuffled his feet and looked down. “I, uh, I put a tracking app on your phone.”

  “Are you serious? Why’d you do that?”

  “In case you ever got lost.”

  “You mean in case I ever got wasted and you had to find me and get me home.”

  “Well, you gotta admit it’d save time.”

  Tony stood up. “Listen. I’m grateful to you for all the times you looked out for me, and I’m sorry for everything I put you through in the past. But you can stop worrying. All that stuff is behind me now, and that’s where it’s gonna stay.”

  Alex sighed. “Good, ’cause you’re way too big to haul.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I bet you could still put me in a fireman’s carry.”

  They walked in silence for a while. Then Tony said, “Anyway, you did carry me, lots of times. You took care of me after...you know. You were the only one I could trust. You’re my best friend.”

  Alex smiled. “You’re mine, too. Always were. We got each other’s back, right?”

  “Right. And I...” He took a deep breath and steeled himself. “I release you.”

  “You what, now?”

  “I release you. From the bro code. I won’t make any trouble or stand in your way. You’re better for her anyhow. You deserve each other.”

  “Wait, hold on. Are you talking about Dalia? You think I...?” He made a face. “Ew, no! Tony, I would never do that.”

  “But it’s okay. That’s what I’m saying. You can. I won’t stop you. I just want you to be happy. Both of you.”

  “No, no, listen to me. It’s not just the bro code, okay? I don’t feel that way about Dalia, and I never could. She’s great and all, but she’s not my type.”

  “Why not? What’s your type?”

  “I...don’t know exactly. But she’s not it. And I’m not hers.”

  “Are you sure about that? I saw you together. Dancing. Talking. Sneaking off behind the huisache. She sure looked determined.”

  Alex laughed. “What, that? Yeah, she was determined, all right. Determined to talk about you. The same thing we’ve talked about every other time I’ve seen her since she’s been back in town, and probably every single time we ever spoke to each other in our lives. You, you and only you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. She still cares about you.”

  The cold, sick feeling that had been in Tony’s stomach since the dance floor suddenly went away.

  “She doesn’t care about me,” he said. “All she cares about is making sure I don’t mess up the rebuild on her mothe
r’s house.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Alex said.

  “Yeah, well, I do. Hey, did you ride Mr. Mendoza’s mechanical bull?”

  “I gave it a go.”

  “And?”

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t beat you. Your record still stands. You got the high score of the day.”

  “Yesss!” Tony pumped his fist.

  He’d gone back for three more rides after that first one, and improved his score each time. He was good. Not world-champion good, but still good. He knew perfectly well that he’d never be great. For one thing, he was too big. Bull riding was one sport where his size was no help to him; in fact, it was a drawback. Nimbleness, speed and compact strength were the necessary qualities. Almost all the champions topped out at five-ten at the most.

  But that only made it all the better when he did perform well. It was something he wasn’t even the right physical type for, something he hadn’t even worked that hard at, and still he managed to be pretty good.

  “Remember Suerte and Bizcocho?” he asked.

  Alex gave him a sidewise look. “You kidding? I think about them every day.”

  When they were kids, Tony and Alex used to spend long summer twilights in the paddock at their grandparents’ place, riding Bizcocho, their grandfather’s seal-brown gelding, and Suerte, their father’s flashy chestnut mare. They used to talk about doing team roping one day. But it never happened. Football started taking more and more of Tony’s time, and Suerte got sold to pay gambling debts, and Bizcocho got sick and had to be put down. Alex talked about saving his money and buying a horse of his own, but that never happened, either.

  What if football and other things hadn’t gotten in the way? What if they’d done rodeo, and Tony had gone on spending long stretches of time at their grandparents’ ranch like Alex did? It might have made all the difference.

  Well, there was no use wondering what if. But maybe it wasn’t too late, for some things at least. Maybe his best years weren’t behind him after all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TONY WAS STANDING on the Ramirez front porch, in the corner just off the kitchen, thinking what a perfect place it would be for a mechanical bull. Then suddenly Dalia was there, saying, “No, that’s where the porch swing goes.”

  And Tony said, “But it got all busted up, remember?” And he pointed at the heap of splintered wood on the porch decking.

  And Dalia said, “Nothing a little elbow grease can’t fix. Look, I’ll show you.” And she took the nail gun out of his hand and started nailing random boards together.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  He opened his eyes.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  He groaned and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow.

  “Alex, get the door,” he called.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  He covered his head with the pillow to smother the noise. “Alex!”

  No answer. Where was Alex? And who was out there pounding on his door at this time of the morning? He didn’t know what time it was exactly, but it was too early for visitors, especially the morning after the FFF.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  “I know you’re in there, Tony. Come on, open up.”

  He sat straight up. Dalia? What was she doing here? How did she even know where he lived?

  “Just a minute,” he answered.

  Yesterday’s jeans were lying across the foot of the bed. He picked them up, pulled them on and stumbled to the bathroom, where he did a quick emergency hygiene-and-grooming session, knocking things over in his clumsy hurry.

  Dalia kept knocking. “Is that running water? Are you brushing your teeth? Come on, Tony, let me in.”

  He ran his hands through his hair one last time and opened the door.

  She stood there, looking calm and cool and perfectly put together, with her boot-cut jeans and tank top and lightweight jacket. She held her tote on one shoulder with her hand gripping the base of the handle. Her sleek braid of hair fell over the other shoulder.

  “Can I come in?” she asked.

  He stepped back and waved her inside.

  She’d gone only a few steps when she stopped short and looked around at the living room in obvious surprise.

  “What?” he said.

  “Nothing. It’s just...nicer than I expected.”

  It did look pretty good. Throw pillows, a little wall art, a pewter pocket watch clock. Tidy, too.

  He shrugged. “I like nice things. And I clean up after myself. Alex is the messy one.”

  She took a seat in the exact middle of the sofa, and he sat on the club chair, facing her.

  She looked so serious. It wasn’t just her regular serious face, either. There was nothing strange about her giving him that look. But coming to his apartment to do it? That took effort.

  Then she said, “How did you lose the sight in your right eye?”

  It was like she’d hit him upside the head with a sledgehammer.

  “What did Alex tell you?” he heard himself ask.

  “Nothing. I figured it out for myself. I asked him about it, but he wouldn’t say anything. He said if I wanted to know I should ask you.”

  “Uh...”

  He ran a hand through his hair and looked around the room. Seconds ticked by on the pewter clock. He saw his arms moving in a nervous way that didn’t make sense. He was squirming, like an insect pinned down by one wing.

  “Tony, what is it? Please tell me. Are you sick?”

  “Sick? No. Why would I be sick? It was an accident.”

  “When?”

  “Six and a half years ago.”

  Silence. Then, sharply, “Spring break?”

  He nodded. He had his head bowed now; he couldn’t look at her.

  When she next spoke, her voice was calm again, or almost. “How did it happen?”

  He swallowed hard. “Um, I was at the hotel with the guys.” His voice was shaking; he stopped, swallowed again. “We were, uh, drinking and goofing off. Filming each other with our phones. You know, stupid human tricks. Phone video was kind of a new thing back then and we were excited. And somehow I decided that it would be a great idea not to just jump off the hotel balcony into the pool...but to dive in.”

  He heard her suck in her breath.

  “I know, it was a bad idea. But I did it. And I would’ve been okay, except something startled me at the last second, and so I was a little off my rhythm. I didn’t miss the pool or anything, but I guess my eyes were open when my face hit the water, or maybe it was the angle or something, I don’t know.”

  “It’s a detached retina, isn’t it?”

  He laughed a little. “Why am I not surprised? Of course you would know that. But I didn’t. I didn’t know anything was wrong. I mean, my eye didn’t feel great after it hit the water, but I didn’t think I’d actually injured it. There was no blood, the eyeball was still in place, so how bad could it be? I didn’t know retinas got detached. I just thought I was a little shook up, is all. I didn’t have any really scary symptoms until it was too late.”

  “That phone call,” Dalia said.

  He didn’t have to ask which one. “Yeah. That was three days after it happened.”

  “You were being so weird,” she said. He could hear the accusation in her voice. “So vague about what you’d been up to. You sounded guilty.”

  “I felt guilty. I was guilty. I knew it was stupid, getting wasted and acting crazy. I knew you wouldn’t like it. But I didn’t know then how bad it was. I was grateful I didn’t get hurt, like blow out my knee or break my back or something. I’d learned my lesson, and I was never going to mess up that way again.”

  “But it was already too late,” she said softly.

  “Yeah. My vision had been a little wonky since the accident. You know those floaters people get in their eyes? I
had more of those than usual, and things looked kinda dim. But I didn’t know anything was up. I thought I was just hungover. But then that day, while we were talking on the phone, things started getting really messed up, with lots of big floaters, blobs and rods. And the lines in the wallpaper turned all wavy. It was like I was tripping balls. Then everything turned red. I found out later it was blood flooding my eye from the tear in the retina.”

  Dalia put her head in her hands.

  “That’s when you ended the call,” she said.

  “Yeah.” I gotta go. Talk to you later. Love you.

  “I’ve never forgotten the doctor who did the surgery. He was so mad at me. He said if I’d come in right away, it would’ve been no problem. But with things as far along as they were, the prognosis wasn’t good. He said I wouldn’t know how much vision I had left in the eye until after recovery. As it turned out, I lost it all.” He cleared his throat. “And that was the end of football, and the end of college.”

  And the end of us.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “How could I? What would you have said if you knew what an idiot I’d been? That I’d gotten drunk and jeopardized my future—our future—just to show off?”

  “It would have been better than thinking you were with another girl!”

  “Would it?”

  She stared at him with her mouth hanging open.

  “Look,” he said. “You don’t have to worry, okay? I’ve been living with this a long time now and I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to mess up. There are a lot of things that a lack of depth perception will prevent a person from doing, but carpentry isn’t one of them.”

  “You’re talking about the rebuild on the house? That’s what you think I’m worried about right now?”

  She got up. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I have to go.”

  And she did, just like that. Got up and walked out without another word, before Tony could do more than instinctively get to his feet.

  The door slammed. Rapid footsteps clomped down the stairway and faded away.

  He dropped back to the chair with a sigh.

  The clock ticked, and ticked, and ticked.