Note: Little comfort snippet because today is one of those weird sad-brain days and apparently the only thing that helps is writing Javi being soft somewhere in Laredo.
Warnings: mild angst, hurt/comfort, reader having a weird sad day, Javier Peña being annoyingly good at reading people, warm hug, soft touches, hair kisses, one sad reader, one very patient DEA agent, feelings sneaking in
w/c: 557 • javi fic masterlist • taglist form
The room is loud. Too loud. Music, people laughing somewhere behind you, glasses clinking. Everyone seems to be having a good time.
You’re standing near the wall pretending to watch the crowd when you feel it. That quiet pull of someone looking at you. You glance up.
Javi’s across the room. Plaid shirt, sleeves down for once, talking to a couple of guys. But the moment your eyes meet his, the conversation clearly stops mattering. He watches you for a second. Then he’s already walking over. “Hey,” he says softly when he reaches you.
“Hey.”
He studies your face a little too carefully. “You okay?”
You shrug. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Javi tilts his head. “That the story we’re going with?”
You try to smile. “Maybe.”
He huffs a quiet breath through his nose. “C’mere.” His hand settles at the back of your arm, guiding you gently through the crowd and out into the hallway where it’s quieter.
The door shuts behind you and the noise drops instantly.
Javi leans back against the wall, looking at you again. “Alright,” he says. “Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit.”
You look down.
He sighs softly, then reaches out, pulling you closer until you’re standing right between his knees where he’s leaning against the wall. His hands settle warm at your sides. “You’ve had that look all night,” he says quietly.
“What look?”
“The one where you’re pretending you’re fine.”
You don’t answer.
Javi’s thumb brushes slowly along your arm. “Hey,” he murmurs.
You finally look up at him.
His expression softens immediately. “There she is,” he says gently.
Your voice comes out smaller than you meant it to. “I’m just having a weird day.”
“Yeah?”
You nod.
For a second he just watches you. Then his hand comes up, fingers brushing lightly along your cheek. “You wanna tell me about it?”
You shake your head. “Not really.”
“That’s alright.” He pulls you into him without hesitation, one arm wrapping around your shoulders.
You melt into him almost immediately.
Javi presses a soft kiss into your hair. “I got you,” he murmurs.
You exhale against his chest. After a moment you mumble: “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being… like this.”
His arm tightens slightly. “Hey.”
You look up again.
“Don’t apologize for needing a minute,” he says quietly. Then his thumb brushes under your eye. “You take all the time you want,” he adds. “And I’ll stay right here.”
You’re quiet for a second. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”
“At what?”
“This,” you say, gesturing weakly between the two of you. “Making me feel better.”
Javi huffs a small laugh. “Years of practice.”
“With who?”
He shrugs a little. “Stubborn people.”
“Are you calling me stubborn?”
“I’m saying,” he replies calmly, “you’re lucky I like you.”
That finally pulls a small laugh out of you.
Javi notices immediately. “There it is,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“That sound.” He nudges your chin gently with his knuckle. “I was starting to miss it.”
You shake your head, but you’re still smiling a little now.
“Feel a little better?” he asks.
“A little.”
“Good.” He presses another soft kiss into your hair and pulls you a little closer. “See?” he murmurs. “Told you I’d fix it.”
Leaving the DEA was surprisingly easier than he thought it would be. Javier didn’t get emotional, didn’t cry, didn’t feel sad. It felt right after all the things he found out.
He did the best he could. He exposed a corrupt government, stopped the major cocaine kingpins with Milena and Steve’s help. But there would always be more to do. More horrible people to stop. More drugs that would find their way into the country no matter what.
And he would still be seen as a hero by most. The government hated to admit when someone got something on them.
And so being retired in Laredo meant helping his father around the ranch, sweating in the high-noon Texas sun, and mulling over when Milena would call him next.
She promised to come home with him. And she was planning on it, still. She quit the DEA too. But Javier forgot that it took time to pack and make arrangements to ship her things to him. She had her own life, her mother, that she was leaving behind all over again.
As the sun began to set, Javier looked through the mailbox, searching for any letters addressed to him rather than bills or whatever for Chucho. He still technically owned the ranch. He’d never give it up until he died.
Thankfully, there was a letter. From one Milena Sánchez living in Temecula, California.
“Got your bills, Pop.” Javier announced, setting the other envelopes on the counter.
“And your love letter?” Chucho didn’t miss a beat as he mixed honey into his tea. It was recommended by the doctor to help him feel more energized.
Javier rolled his eyes and made his way to his room. No longer was it ripped from his childhood. He exchanged the twin bed with a king that he was able to pay for with his generous ‘going away’ stipend from the DEA. He took off the posters of action stars and teenage crushes and replaced them with framed photos of him and Steve, him and Milena, and all three of them together from before he left hours before Escobar’s capture.
He and Milena planned for her to come to Laredo a few days, do a test-run on living with him and Chucho and the town. He didn’t want her to think he was stuck in the past. Or secretly wished he was still a little boy. That’d be a sure-fire way to turn off a woman.
With his thumb, Javier tore open the envelope, and slid the letter out.
Over the weeks, months since they’ve been home, he grew somewhat of a collection of these letters. All stashed in a drawer in his second-hand desk.
For each new one, he could smell the lingering scent of her perfume mixed with ink that hadn’t completely dried yet. He loved it. His chest felt full each time he saw a smudge of her fingerprint or a word she crossed out but he could still read what it said.
Of course, Javier would respond, but it felt inadequate. He wasn’t as eloquent as her. He’d just write about his week, how much he missed her every so often to not seem clingy, and hope that was enough. So far, it was.
On the other hand, she would write such beautiful words about how much she missed him, how there wasn't necessarily something missing, but how something that complimented her perfectly was just out of reach.
Milena could survive without Javier. But she didn't want to.
Late at night, while Chucho was asleep, Javier would call her. Not that his father would embarrass him, but it was nice to have some privacy.
Given the time difference, it wasn't as late for Milena but, as he'd learned, her mother didn't really use the phone. A plus for them.
“How've you been? Still looking for a job over here?” Javier wondered aloud, adjusting his grip on the corded phone his father didn't have the heart to get rid of.
On the line, Javier could hear her taping up a box. “I'm good. And no. I'm qualified to work as a cop but, y'know, I'd rather not work for the government anymore.” She sighed.
“You could always work on the ranch with me and Pop.” Javier suggested, taking a drag from a cigarette he let burn between his fingers for a few seconds.
“I could.” She conceded.
“You're pretty strong too. It'll help around here.” He added, smoke escaping his lips as he talked.
Milena chuckled. “Trying to stroke my ego or something?”
Javier laughed along, shaking his head. “I don't think you need that. Maybe I'm just stating the obvious. I mean, me and Pop are older guys, our backs are gonna give out sooner than yours.” He teased.
“Oh, is that what this is?”
“That's definitely what this is.”
“Mm, I'll have to think about it.”
“Don't think too hard.”
“Oh, I won't. Don't worry.”
“Now, I am worried.”
“Even though I said don't be. Hm. Weird how that works.”
Javier chuckled, running a hand through his hair. Then there was silence. Not uncomfortable or anything. Just there, filling the space left by the absence of their voices.
“Javi?” Milena's voice was softer.
He mimicked her tone. “Yeah?”
“I think it'd be nice working on the ranch with you.” She admitted in a whisper. “It'd be… calm. God knows I need it after everything.”
He knew what she meant. But he couldn't help teasing her. “I thought you didn't believe in God.”
Milena groaned, a small snort escaping her. He got her. A sense of accomplishment washed over him. For just a moment.
“I don't. Least of all the Christian God. It's just an expression, you ass.” He could tell she was rolling her eyes just by the tone of her voice.
These calls, while they were supposed to ease the loneliness in his bones, there wasn't anything Javier could do to fill the gap of her presence but have her by his side. These calls just reminded him exactly what he was missing. She was like a pebble in his shoe he started to get used to. He’d walk, talk, function differently without her. As much as he tried to deny it, Chucho could tell. It didn’t take the DEA or CIA to figure that out.
When Milena stepped off the plane to Laredo and took a deep breath. It strangely felt like she was coming home, though she had never once set foot in Texas. She could count the amount of times she’d been out of state on one hand.
However, she was expecting a similar smell to LAX or even the Bogotá airport. That wasn’t what greeted her at all. It was just hot, a dry sort of heat with a twinge of gasoline in the air, but not the overwhelming scent she was prepared for.
As she traversed through the airport, she found Javier sitting at the bar, nursing a drink. Milena couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips at the sight. She almost didn’t want to disrupt him.
His head was down, checking his watch every few moments. He knew when Milena’s plane was supposed to land, but maybe there were delays? Maybe it was taxiing for too long? Maybe she was stuck behind some really old, slow people?
He took a gamble and looked up. She stared right at him. And something in him broke. Or did it heal? He couldn’t tell.
Javier ran over to Milena, pushing past passerbys, wrapping his arms around her tightly like it had been years since he last saw her. Like she went off to war and he wasn’t if or when she would ever be coming back. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair he missed.
“Hello to you too, Peña.” She chuckled, the action reverberating into his body.
“‘Peña?’ What happened to ‘Javi?’” He hummed teasingly as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Then he pulled away to get a good look at her face, to memorize it all over again.
Milena slid her hands up his shoulders, squeezing them. “Nothing. You’re just making a scene in the middle of the airport.”
Javier blinked, glancing around them, noticing the eyes on them. “Right. Sorry.” He pulled away and motioned towards her. “I just missed you, Lena.”
“I know.” Her eyes softened, “Let’s just get to the car first, huh? Then we can talk.”
As always, she thought ahead far better than he did. He was a private, protected person, so making out in the middle of an airport wasn’t really his style even if he was tempted. The airport bathroom or some random broom closet was an entirely different story.
Instead, Javier picked up her suitcase and hauled it into the back of his truck. “Didn’t peg you for a truck guy.” Milena commented as she got in the passenger seat.
“Unlike Steve, who’s probably living it up in Miami, I need a truck for work.” He pointed out with a smirk, turning the ignition.
“Ah, for ranch duties.” Milena nodded, matching his smirk.
The ride to the ranch was mostly full of silence. Not a bad thing. It gave Javier the chance to look at Milena as the wind whipped in her hair from the open window and she looked at the landscape around them.
As they passed certain fields, she got the faint whiff of burning wood, freshly cut grass, and summer flowers. A heady concoction. Something about it made her chest feel full. But maybe that was due to the presence in the driver’s seat.
Javier turned down a dirt road that led up to a small one-story house. Even with its chipped wooden porch and loose window shutters, it had a certain charm to it that couldn’t be ignored.
They entered the house, Javier carrying the suitcase while Milena had her backpack on her shoulder. She looked around, catching Chucho under her gaze.
A warm smile appeared across her face. “You must be Peña senior.” She offered a hand.
“And you're the woman my son is crazy about.” Chucho pulled her into a hug instead. “You're gonna be livin’ with me, we're already family.”
“Right…” Milena hummed, slowly melting into the embrace. “Still nice to meet you. Officially.” She shrugged.
She'd heard Chucho’s voice every so often during a call, reminding Javier of certain chores he had to do as if he was still sixteen. Then there were the very few pictures she'd seen of them in his apartment. She had a feeling he didn't bring many personal belongings to Colombia in case he didn't come back.
Once Chucho pulled away he smacked Javier’s arm. “No me dijiste lo fuerte que era.” He scolded.
"You didn't tell me how strong she was."
Milena chuckled. “Puedes agradecerle al Ejército por eso.”
"You can thank the Army for that."
“Still.” He half-jokingly glared at his son. “This one hates telling me things. I thought you might be hopeless on the ranch. Nothing against you, of course.” Chucho quickly added.
“Papá—” Javier whined weakly.
Milena shook her head, amused. “No, I get it. Don't worry.”
Meeting Javier’s father was awkward, but not entirely unpleasant. Thankfully. After that first little embarrassment, it was a lot calmer.
Chucho even invited her and Javier along to the Farmer's market. She could already tell everyone was fairly tight knit based on the size of the city so she assumed this was one of the many ways she would meet everyone in town.
And she was right.
The outside market was filled to the brim with seemingly everyone in Laredo, both selling and buying various produce, products, and trinkets.
“You okay?” Javier asked after a few moments of being in the crowd with her. His hand was firmly placed in hers.
Milena hummed. “I'm alright. Just—” She looked around a moment, “How is this more overwhelming than planning a raid? Do you understand what I mean?”
“I do.” He nodded, squeezing her hand.
He was her crutch for a while, comforting her through the crowd as some tried to talk with her, congratulating Javier on finally finding a woman and wishing he'd settle down rather than throwing her away. Milena couldn't believe the audacity of these people but she would be the first to admit she didn't grow up in the South and the culture was very different.
They stopped at a honey stand. The owners sold a variety of flavored and unflavored, with honeycomb and without.
Milena picked a jar of regular honey with honeycomb, inspecting it for a moment.
Javier watched then caught sight of his father struggling with a crate full of produce. “I'm gonna go help Pop, I'll be right back.” He squeezed her shoulder before he ran off.
She hummed in response. Lifting the jar to her nose, she tried taking a whiff of the honey. She couldn't smell anything. Still, she planned on getting the honey anyway.
“How much for this?” Milena asked the vendor.
“2.50.”
She dug in her pocket for a five dollar bill and handed it over. “Keep the change.”
The vendor took it and then asked, “Would you like a bag?”
Milena glanced down at the jar. “Uh, sure. Do you have a small one?” They gave her a small paper bag, perfect for the honey. “Thanks.”
She turned to find a woman with wavy blonde hair staring at her. “Hey?” Milena's eyebrows furrowed, giving a small wave.
“Hi.” The other woman smiled, “It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Lorraine.” She said warmly.
Milena was even more confused. Lorraine? As in the woman who Javier left at the altar Lorraine? The same woman who was now happily, presumably, married to some other man?
“Oh, uh, I'm Milena.” She tried to muster up a polite smile.
“I know.” Lorraine chuckled. “Word gets around quick in a small town like this. If you couldn't tell.”
Milena nodded, glancing around at the passersby who caught them both in their gaze. “No, I know.”
“Well, I just wanted to say I'm glad Javier has you in his life.” Lorraine said sincerely, clasping her hands together. “He doesn't always think he deserves something good. One of his biggest faults. But, lately, because of you, I can tell he's been doing better.”
Milena shifted her gaze to Javier, watching him through the crowd. He helped Chucho carry his finds to his truck, occasionally talking to friends from his past.
It was true. Javier had been doing better because of Milena's presence. He'd even cut back a little on smoking, not wanting to contaminate the air while she was around. A weird thought but he couldn't stand the idea of adding to the poison in the air if Milena was staying.
Not only that, but he was lighter. He talked a little more. Didn't always shut down when someone thanked him for his service or anything of the sort. “Yeah… he is better, isn't he?” Milena narrowed her eyes, a fond look in them.
Chapter 1 summary: Javier comes back to Laredo in 1995 with one duffel bag, too many ghosts from Colombia and absolutely no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do with the rest of his life now that the DEA is behind him. Adriana is six months out of a breakup, trying very hard not to care about men, relationships or any of the emotional chaos that comes with them. One girls’ night at a local bar was supposed to mean a few drinks and then moving on with life. Instead, one drunken night changes everything.
Note: If you’re new here or confused about anything, all the setup info, warnings in general, future playlists, drabbles and chapters for this series can be found in the series masterlist
Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mentions of cartel violence / Colombia trauma, emotional repression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, 🔞 explicit sexual content, kinda unprotected piv sex (but not fully unprotected), kissing, touching, mentions of javi's big dick, accidental pregnancy, angst, loneliness, discussions of failed relationships
w/c: 9.9k • javi fic masterlist • taglist form • series masterlist
Now
“I’m pregnant.” She says it like she’s telling me what the weather’s like outside. Calm. Casual. Not at all the way I expected her to sound after randomly showing up at my door three months after we spent one drunk night together. One night. And then nothing.
What the fuck? Pregnant?!
And maybe you’re confused right now. Trust me, not more than I was. Not even close. But I should probably take you back three months earlier. Back to the three months that led to this whole… situation.
✄┈┈┈┈ Three months earlier
The second I step out of the airport, the dry Texas air hits me right in the face. Hot, dusty, familiar. The kind that sticks to your skin and settles in your lungs before you even realize it. Haven’t felt that in a long damn time. Haven’t missed it either. And now? Now it looks like I’m stuck with it again. I let out a quiet breath.
There’s a duffel bag hanging from my shoulder. Not even a big one. Funny how your whole life can somehow fit into one bag after all these years. One bag. Like maybe there wasn’t much of a life there to begin with. Then again… what kind of life was Bogotá really? Ten years of chasing cartels, staring at dead bodies, corruption, blood, cocaine, men who destroy entire countries and still sleep like babies at night. Yeah. Real fulfilling experience.
I rub my hand over my face and undo another button on my shirt. The flight exhausted the hell out of me and honestly, all I want right now is a shower, a cigarette and maybe twelve hours of sleep.
I look around the parking area for my father’s old Ford. A minute later I finally spot it pulling up near the curb.
And there he is. Same old hat. Same truck. Same tired face I’ve known my entire life. He barely changed since the last time I saw him before going back to Colombia again as country attaché. Maybe a few more wrinkles around the eyes. Probably because I left. Again. My father always hopes I’ll stay this time. And every single time I leave, something between us gets a little quieter afterward. Not bad. Not angry. Just… different. Hard to explain. “Welcome back,” he says once I finally reach him with my bag.
Then he pats my shoulder. Same way he always does. Same way he did after mom died and we both realized it was just gonna be the two of us from then on. Same way he did last year at this exact airport before I got on another plane and disappeared again.
“Dad,” I mutter, forcing a small smile that probably looks as exhausted as I feel. Not because I actually wanna smile. But because the last thing I wanna do is dump all my bullshit onto him within the first minute of being back home.
The drive back happens mostly in silence. Well. Silence if you don’t count the noise from the road and the wind coming through the open window, messing up my hair while I stare outside.
Everything feels weirdly unreal. Like I’m not actually here yet. Because this time it’s not just a week or two before I disappear again. This time it’s supposed to be permanent.
Fuck. I hate that word. Permanent.
What the hell does permanent even mean for someone like me? What am I supposed to be without the DEA? Who am I when I’m not chasing somebody? And–
“Uhm.” My father’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “So… it’s good to have you here. At least you can help me fix the fence near the river tomorrow morning. Storm knocked part of it down.” He says it casually. Like that’s the most important thing he could possibly tell me after a year apart.
I glance over at him. “Good to know nothing changed. Still obsessed with that damn fence.” Normally I’d say it with more amusement. Maybe even laugh a little. Now it just comes out tired. Because somehow I’m still angry at everything. And maybe even more angry because Laredo didn’t magically fix me the second I got off the plane. Not that I really expected it to.
“Well,” my father shrugs lightly, eyes still on the road, “like I always tell you… somebody’s gotta do it.” Then after a second: “And I should probably take advantage of having you here. God knows when you’ll disappear again.”
That finally makes me turn toward him properly. I can’t decide if that was supposed to sound like guilt or not.
He still doesn’t look at me though. Just keeps driving.
“I’m not planning to,” I say quietly.
“Planning not to what?” And even without looking at me, I can tell he actually cares about the answer.
I lean my head back against the seat for a second before answering. “I resigned from the DEA. So…”
Silence fills the truck for a moment. Then: “So this time you’re staying? Or is your heart gonna drag you somewhere else again?”
I don’t answer immediately. Because the truth is… part of me probably would leave again if I let it. But another part of me is just fucking tired.
The DEA offered to pull my resignation. Said they needed me in Mexico. Apparently what I did in Colombia impressed somebody. Funny. Because I don’t feel like I did a damn thing worth admiring. Not after everything that happened. Not after all the people who still ended up dead anyway.
“Ask me again in a few months,” I say eventually. The word stay gets stuck somewhere in my throat. I’ve promised it too many times already. And every single time, I left anyway. To save the world. Or whatever the hell I thought I was doing back then.
“Okay,” my father says softly, giving a small nod like maybe a few months is enough for him right now. Maybe to him it sounds hopeful.
I wish it sounded hopeful to me too. But honestly? I have no fucking idea what I’m supposed to do here now. Escobar’s dead. Cali’s falling apart. Mexico still sits in the back of my head like an itch I can’t scratch. But I don’t think any of it would make me feel useful anymore. Not now. Colombia beat that out of me pretty fucking thoroughly.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
By the time we pull up to the ranch, everything looks exactly the same. Same house. Same yard. Same old fence that somehow still hasn’t completely fallen apart. Nothing changed.
Not since I used to run around here as a kid. Not since I kissed a girl for the first time behind the barn. Not since I got drunk for the first time and threw up near the damn fence afterward. Not since dad and I stood out here after mom’s funeral not knowing what the hell we were supposed to do next. Same place.
And for one small second, all those memories hit me at once hard enough to make something in my chest loosen. It feels weird being home again. Good weird. Painful weird too.
Dad kills the engine and I climb out of the truck, slamming the door shut behind me.
A second later the front door of the house flies open. And out comes Ana Sofía. Tiny little missile.
I call her my niece even though technically she’s my cousin’s daughter, not my actual niece, but when you grow up an only child in a huge family, your cousins basically become your siblings anyway. So when they start having kids… well. Close enough.
Last time I saw Ana Sofía was about a year ago when I came back here for that forced day off after the whole Los Pepes disaster. And honestly? Watching her sprint toward me now, it still surprises me how fast kids grow. Not like we ever had a shortage of them in this family. But for ten years I barely spent time around any kids at all.
Hell, before last year I didn’t even really know Ana Sofía existed outside of hearing about her from dad during phone calls. Because life here didn’t stop just because I disappeared into Colombia. The Peña family kept growing while I was gone. Marriages. Babies. Birthday parties I missed. Kids I didn’t know.
And somehow this little girl decided after meeting me exactly once that I was gonna be her favorite tío for the rest of her life.
At first it drove me a little crazy. Mostly because I wasn’t used to somebody following me around constantly. But honestly? It’s hard to hate being loved by a kid who doesn’t know enough about you to judge anything you’ve done. Maybe that’s exactly why I ended up liking her so much too.
“Tío Javi!” Ana Sofía yells the second she reaches me before throwing herself straight at my chest.
I barely catch her in time before both of us end up flat on our asses in the dirt.
Her dark hair immediately gets everywhere.
“Jesus, princesa, slow down,” I laugh, trying to sound serious and failing completely.
“You almost fell!” she yells directly into my ear while hanging onto my neck with both arms. “You need to eat more so you can get bigger muscles.”
I snort. “And maybe seven-year-old girls shouldn’t attack innocent old men like me.”
Ana Sofía immediately pulls back just enough to stare at me with narrowed eyes. “I’m not seven anymore.” The way she says it sounds genuinely offended, like forgetting that information should probably be illegal.
I put on an exaggerated shocked face. “Damn. Was I gone that long already?”
Ana Sofía bursts out laughing. “You were! You weren’t even here for my birthday.”
I carefully set her back down on the ground. I’m not about to hit her with adult logic and point out that I’ve technically missed every birthday she’s ever had except last year. Instead I go with the usual adult bullshit. Mostly because… hell, I still don’t know how long I’m staying myself. “Well,” I say, crouching down a little so we’re eye level, “guess I better not miss the next one then, huh?”
Ana Sofía studies me for a second like she’s deciding whether that answer is acceptable. Apparently it is, because she immediately shoves a piece of paper into my hands. There’s a drawing on it that definitely looks like–
“Wow, Sofi. That’s a really nice dog. Is this for me?”
“Tío Javi!” she gasps dramatically before dissolving into giggles. “You’re so weird. Everybody knows that’s a horse.”
That finally gets a real laugh out of me. “Right. Of course. Definitely a horse. I was just testing you.” I grin and take the drawing from her. I already know it’ll probably end up forgotten in some drawer eventually, but the fact she actually drew me something because I came home still does something weird to my chest.
Dad’s already heading toward the house by then.
Ana Sofía immediately grabs my hand and starts dragging me after him. “You know why I drew the horse for you, tío?”
“Hmm. Because you knew I like horses?”
“No,” she says instantly. “If I wanted to draw an animal you actually like, I would’ve drawn a dog. Obviously.” Eight-year-old logic. Brutal every time.
I swallow the comment about the horse still looking suspiciously like a dog.
“I drew it because you don’t have a girl here,” she says casually while swinging our joined hands back and forth. “So you won’t feel lonely.”
That catches me off guard for a second. Not because she means anything bad by it. She doesn’t. But for some reason the topic hits a nerve today. Not because I desperately need a relationship or some shit like that. It’s just… Maybe hearing things like that reminds me that I spent most of my adult life chasing cartels across another country while everybody here kept actually living.
And the worst part? Back then I loved it. I really did. But now? Now there’s no Escobar left to chase. Cali’s falling apart. And suddenly all that’s left are empty rooms, cigarettes and long quiet nights. Fuck. I shut the thought down immediately.
Unfortunately my brain decides to throw Lorraine into the middle of it anyway. Lorraine standing in front of me last year after I finally apologized for everything and went looking for… honestly, I still don’t know what the hell I expected. Maybe I thought she’d still be stuck too. Maybe part of me expected to find her alone somehow. Instead she had Randy. Two kids. A whole life that kept moving without me in it. And maybe Colombia fucked me up enough that seeing a marriage actually survive all those years felt almost unreal.
I shake the thought away before I spiral too far into it. Thankfully the noise inside the house interrupts me first.
The second we walk in, Ana Sofía lets go of my hand and immediately runs off toward the rest of the kids somewhere deeper inside.
I stop in the hallway for a second, looking around. Same orange walls. Same stone details. Same colorful tile floors. Sometimes this place feels more like Mexico than Texas.
The noise hits me immediately. Too many voices at once. English mixed with Spanish. Kids yelling somewhere down the hallway. Somebody laughing way too loud. And underneath all of it, the smell of gorditas hits me straight in the face.
I know exactly who made them before I even see her. Tía Rosa. At some point after mom died, gorditas basically became comfort food in this house. Especially for me and dad.
Rosa practically moved in with us back then, acting like enough food and enough time could somehow glue two grieving people back together again. And honestly? She wasn’t completely wrong.
I try to find her somewhere in the crowd while relatives keep stopping me every five seconds to shake my hand, pat my shoulder or tell me how good it is to finally have me home again. Feels like dad invited half the damn Peña family. Not just from Laredo either. Still not as bad as last year after ten years away, but Jesus Christ. Big families are exhausting.
Before I can spot Rosa myself, she finds me first. “Ay, mijo,” she gasps dramatically the second she reaches me, throwing her hands up. “Did they feed you anything in Colombia or did you survive entirely on cigarettes?” She looks me up and down like she’s deciding whether to hug me or beat me with a sandal.
“Good to see you too,” I laugh quietly, avoiding the question completely because honestly? Food wasn’t exactly high on my priority list most days down there.
“You need to eat. And stop smoking.” She keeps staring at me with that same disapproving look for another few seconds before finally pulling me into a hug so tight I almost lose oxygen. “Oh, corazón,” she whispers against my hair. “I missed you.”
And shit. It actually feels good. Warm. Familiar. Like getting dragged straight back into childhood for a minute.
Rosa always used to say I was her favorite person in the family. Apparently that still applies, even after she smacked me with a flip-flop the first time she caught me smoking behind the barn as a teenager. Back then she still thought she could scare me into quitting.
A few seconds later she pulls away and grabs my wrist immediately. “Come on. I made your favorite.” She doesn’t bother asking whether I’m hungry before dragging me toward the kitchen.
The kitchen looks exactly the same too. Dad never really changed anything after mom died. Same red walls. Same decorative plates hanging everywhere for reasons I still don’t understand. I grew up in this house and never paid attention to half this stuff until after mom was gone. Then suddenly every little thing felt impossible not to notice.
“Out, all of you,” Rosa suddenly yells at the kids running around the kitchen looking for hidden candy somewhere. “Go bother somebody else. I need to feed my nephew.”
The kids groan dramatically but she shoos them out laughing before shutting the door behind them.
And for the first time since I got back to the ranch, it’s quiet. Well. Mostly quiet. I can still hear muffled conversations outside and distant laughter coming through the window from the yard.
Rosa moves around the kitchen like she owns the place. Honestly, maybe she kinda does at this point. After mom died, she just naturally stepped into keeping this family together. And without her? Dad probably would’ve fallen apart a long time ago.
The smell of gorditas gets even stronger once she sets a plate down in front of me. My stomach growls immediately and I realize I’m actually hungry. Or maybe I’m only hungry for this specifically. Hard to tell.
“Eat,” Rosa orders before sitting across from me like she plans to personally supervise the entire thing.
And honestly? The second I take the first bite, my taste buds practically fucking ascend. Which is probably why I end up eating way more than I normally would without even noticing.
“So…” Rosa points a finger at me while I practically inhale the food in front of me. “What are you planning to do now? Here in Laredo?”
Jesus Christ. Straight to the point. I haven’t even been back for twenty-four hours yet. And unlike dad, Rosa isn’t somebody I can escape with a vague shrug and an ‘I don’t know.’
“Well, uh–”
“You should settle down, mijo,” she cuts in immediately.
I let out a short laugh. “Pretty sure ‘welcome home’ would’ve been the kinder way to start this conversation.” I’m joking, mostly. Mostly trying to drag the conversation somewhere else before she starts interrogating me properly.
“Javier Peña!” And there it is. The full name. The tone that means she’s officially serious now. “You didn’t come home just for another vacation, did you? You’re not about to run back to that Colombian hell again?” She narrows her eyes at me. “Not like last year.”
“No. No,” I cut in quickly. “I resigned from the DEA.”
Rosa leans back slightly, still watching me carefully. “Mhm. You said something similar last year too, remember? Then suddenly you disappeared again chasing God knows who.”
Fair. Can’t even argue with that. I stare down at my plate for a second instead of answering immediately. Because if I tell her I’m staying, it’ll sound too much like a promise. And I’m not ready to promise anybody anything right now when I still have no fucking clue what my life is supposed to look like without the DEA. Without Colombia. Without all of it. “Tía, I–”
“I ran into Lorraine in town.”
The sentence hits me so unexpectedly I actually blink at her. “What?”
Rosa gives me a look. “Lorraine,” she repeats slowly. “You remember her, right? Blonde girl. The one you left standing in a wedding dress waiting to see if you’d show up.”
I put the half-eaten gordita back down onto the plate. “I know who Lorraine is,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face. “I just don’t understand why you’re bringing her up.”
“Well,” Rosa shrugs lightly, “thought maybe you’d wanna know she and Randy are having problems.”
And just like that it feels like somebody punched me directly in the stomach. Lorraine. Randy. A whole part of my life I tried real hard to bury somewhere deep enough not to think about too often.
Last year at Danny’s wedding was the first time I’d really talked to her after ten years. And honestly? It fucked with my head way more than I expected. Because somehow she looked… okay. Happy, even. No anger. No resentment. No “go fuck yourself, Javier.” Nothing. Just forgiveness. Like she’d actually moved on while I was still mentally standing in the same damn place we left each other.
And no, I didn’t want her miserable for ten years because of me. Obviously not. But maybe part of me expected something. I don’t even know what. I already knew she was married to Randy. Still weird as hell realizing they actually lasted all those years. Kids too. Meanwhile I couldn’t even keep a damn cactus alive in Bogotá.
“Ay Dios mío, you’re not listening to a word I’m saying.” Rosa’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts again.
“Hm?”
“I said they’ll probably get divorced.”
“Well…” I shift awkwardly in the chair.
“No matter what, it’s because of you,” Rosa says casually before taking a sip of her drink.
I stare at her. “What?”
Suddenly it feels like all the air disappeared from the kitchen.
“Yes… because do you know when their problems started?” Rosa asks carefully. “Right after Danny’s wedding. Apparently you two talked there, so…” She narrows her eyes at me. “What exactly did you say to her?”
“Madre de Dios, tía,” I groan, rubbing both hands over my face. “Nothing happened. What do you think we talked about? I apologized. She made it very clear she’d moved on with her life. End of story. They are definitely not having marriage problems because of me.” I don’t even wanna look at the gorditas anymore.
Rosa keeps watching me way too closely. “Well, something must’ve happened,” she insists. “People don’t suddenly start falling apart right after someone’s wedding if everything was perfectly fine before.”
“Jesus Christ…” I lean back in the chair. “Just because people look happy doesn’t mean they actually are.” Funny thing is, I don’t fully believe that myself.
Because Lorraine looked happy to me. Married. Kids. Stable life. Everything she probably wanted. She made it sound pretty damn clear last year too. Except… a memory suddenly pushes itself back into my head before I can stop it.
“Can you actually imagine us being married?” Lorraine asked me that day at Danny’s wedding.
And I’d just shrugged a little. Smiled. Didn’t really answer properly.
And now, suddenly, I remember the way she looked at me afterward. Surprised almost. Like maybe she expected me to immediately say no. But before she could say anything else, Randy showed up and I backed off completely. Then I went back to Colombia and barely thought about Lorraine again after that.
Well… almost barely. Maybe once or twice. Like when I talked to Christina Jurado.
But Lorraine never felt like unfinished love anymore. Just old guilt. Old history. Something I thought I’d already buried years ago. Still… that look on her face suddenly feels different now that I’m replaying it.
No. Bullshit. It doesn’t mean anything. I shut the thought down immediately before it can grow into something bigger. If Lorraine’s marriage is falling apart, it’s not because of me. And definitely not because of some lingering feelings. “Why are you even telling me this?” I ask Rosa sharper than I meant to.
Her expression softens instantly despite my tone. “Because I thought maybe you’d wanna know.”
“Why? Because you think it’s some reason for me to stay?”
Silence settles between us for a second.
“Because she was your first love, mijo. You wanted to marry her and–”
“And what?” I cut in, irritation slipping out faster now. “First loves usually don’t get happy endings, you know? And besides…” I point at her slightly. “You never even liked her that much.”
That finally makes Rosa smile faintly. “Well… your taste in girlfriends didn’t exactly impress me back then, no,” she admits. “But that wasn’t the point. You were happy with her and I cared about that.”
“I was,” I mutter. “Until I realized being happy with someone isn’t always enough.” Because it wasn’t. I was young. Stupid. Naive as hell. Maybe I ignored a lot of things back then because I wanted the idea of us more than the reality. Either way, it doesn’t matter now. Lorraine is not the reason I’d stay in Laredo permanently. She just isn’t.
“Last year at Danny’s wedding you went to talk to her yourself,” Rosa says carefully. “And afterward you looked sad the whole rest of the night, so I thought–”
“What did you think?” I snap before she can finish. “That I was going through some tragic fucking heartbreak? We talked. I apologized for leaving her at the altar. That was it. She made it very clear she’s moved on. End of story. There’s nothing else there to analyze.” The second the words leave my mouth, I already know I’m being too harsh.
And the worst part is Rosa doesn’t deserve any of it. She goes quiet for a second before slowly standing up from the table, smoothing her apron nervously like she suddenly doesn’t know what to do with herself. “Bueno… you’re right,” she says softly. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Guilt immediately twists in my stomach. “Wait,” I exhale quickly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, I just–”
“No.” She shakes her head gently. “You don’t have to explain. Lorraine is in the past. I understand.” Then after a second: “Finish eating before it gets cold.” And just like that she walks out of the kitchen before I can say anything else.
Fuck. The last thing I wanted was to come home and start taking my shit out on family. I stare down at the plate for another few seconds before shoving a hand through my hair.
Fuck this. I need a drink. And a cigarette.
I don’t finish the gorditas. Which honestly pisses me off a little because they’re good as hell, but suddenly I’m not hungry anymore.
I leave the kitchen instead, slipping past relatives still hanging around the house while avoiding eye contact with literally everybody. Last thing I need right now is someone taking one glance at me as an invitation to start another conversation.
I make it outside fast. The yard’s mostly empty now. Just a few kids near the barn fighting over the swings.
Even Ana Sofía barely notices me leaving. Which is surprising considering she’s apparently decided I’m her favorite uncle in the entire world. But honestly? Good.
I pull out a cigarette and light it immediately, taking a long drag the second the flame catches. Every time I come back home, I tell myself I should quit. Every single time. Like somehow fixing my life starts with cigarettes. Like there’s still some better version of me left to recover if I just try hard enough.
But honestly? I don’t think that guy exists anymore. Not after Colombia. Not after everything that happened down there. Everything I did. Everything I didn’t do. Everything I could’ve stopped. Everything that still feels like my fault no matter how many times people tell me otherwise. Fuck. Still smoking, I cut across the yard toward my part of the ranch.
Dad stayed in the main house. Rosa slowly took over half the rooms on the other side years ago. And me? I ended up with the house section that had its own entrance where people usually left me alone. Exactly what I need right now.
I don’t even go back for my bag yet. There’s time for that later. Maybe part of me is avoiding it on purpose because unpacking that bag means unpacking the life I built in Colombia too. And somehow that makes this whole thing feel way too final. I’m not sure I’m ready for final.
The second I step inside and shut the door behind me, silence settles around me immediately. Just the occasional hum from the old fridge near the kitchenette whenever it kicks back on.
Everything looks almost exactly the same as always. Same worn-out couch that probably should’ve died years ago. Same old radio sitting on the shelf. Same kitchen table covered in scratches from years of living on the ranch. A couple photos still hang crookedly on the wall too. One of me and dad near the horses. Another from when mom was still alive. Haven’t added anything new in a very long time.
I basically moved into this part of the house as a teenager because I wanted privacy and freedom and the illusion that I wasn’t living with my parents anymore. Turns out having your own entrance does wonders for a teenage boy’s ego. Especially when you start bringing girls home. Though honestly, mom and later Rosa were never exactly great at respecting boundaries. Dad usually stayed out of it more. Mostly just sighed heavily whenever something annoyed him. Somehow that part about him never changed either.
But then I left anyway. DEA academy first. A few years later, Colombia. And somehow my life just kept moving farther and farther away from this place after that. Still… even if I didn’t actually spend most of my life in this part of the house, it’s the only place on the ranch that ever really felt like mine. The one place where I can shut a door and actually be alone for a while. Which is rare around here.
There’s almost always somebody from the Peña family at the ranch. Cousins, kids, uncles, random relatives I barely remember the names of anymore. This place is basically the family meeting point for everything. Holidays, birthdays, Sunday dinners, funerals, random Tuesdays… doesn’t matter.
But honestly? I’ve always been weirdly grateful for that. At least dad was never alone after mom died. That thought drags me right back to Rosa. Fuck. I shouldn’t have snapped at her like that.
I know she meant well. She always does.
I’m just tired of hearing about settling down all the damn time. Like there’s some invisible timer counting down over my head because I’m thirty-seven and apparently supposed to already have a wife, three kids and a lawn mower by now like half the guys I grew up with.
And mostly… I just don’t wanna think about Lorraine. Still, the thought keeps crawling back anyway.
What if Rosa’s right? What if Lorraine’s marriage actually started falling apart after our conversation last year? Or worse… what if there really was something unfinished there before Randy interrupted us?
No. Bullshit. I shut the thought down hard before it can spiral any farther.
Instead I fall back on one of the many bad habits Colombia gave me: when my head gets too loud, I go to a bar. A drink usually makes thinking easier. Or at least quieter.
I glance around my place one more time, briefly wondering if I’ll ever actually make it feel lived in again. Maybe fix things up. Maybe stay long enough for it to matter. But then DEA and Mexico flashes through my head again and the thought dies immediately.
I grab my keys instead. Drive there. Cab back. No big deal. Used to do it all the time before I left Laredo anyway.
A minute later I’m back in the truck, engine rumbling to life beneath me as I pull away from the ranch. And honestly? Just getting farther away from the house, the memories and all the questions already makes it a little easier to breathe.
Now
Fuck. No. No, no, no, no. No fucking way. This has to be a joke. A mistake. A defective test.
I stare at the two lines like they’re personally mocking me while screaming congratulations, you got knocked up by a man you met once at a bar.
“Oh my God, fuck NO,” I blurt out loud, hands already shaking. Then I force myself to breathe because this has to be wrong.
Sure, my period’s late, but my cycle’s always been a mess. That doesn’t automatically mean pregnancy, right? And besides… my boobs don’t hurt. I’m not throwing up. Nothing feels different. Something should feel different, shouldn’t it?!
I only bought the stupid test because even for my chaotic period this delay was getting suspicious, but this? This wasn’t supposed to happen. No.
Because he had a condom. Javier.
I think his name was Javier. Javier Peña. Jesus Christ, I barely even remember his fucking name.
Yeah, okay, he did say the condom had been sitting in his wallet for months, but it’s still a condom, not expired milk. That’s not how this works, right?!
This has to be some kind of mistake.
We were drunk, but not blackout drunk. I literally put the condom on him myself. And yeah, I hadn’t slept with anybody in six months after my shitty breakup, but I’m pretty sure I know how condoms work without accidentally destroying one in the process.
No. Absolutely not. I refuse to believe I’m pregnant with a near-stranger I spent exactly one drunken night with before we both silently agreed never to see each other again.
Neither of us wanted a relationship. That was the whole point. This can’t be happening.
People don’t just accidentally create whole human beings with random hot strangers from bars. Not in real life. Not in my life.
And considering I haven’t slept with anybody since him, that would mean–
Nope. No. I physically shake my head at the thought like maybe I can force it out of existence.
Unfortunately I only bought one damn test because apparently I’m an idiot. But honestly? Even if I had ten more sitting here, I probably wouldn’t trust any of them right now anyway.
So instead I grab my phone with trembling fingers and immediately call my gynecologist, praying they’ll somehow squeeze me in today because there is absolutely no way I’m surviving another night with this sitting in my head.
✄┈┈┈┈ Three months earlier
Honestly, I didn’t even wanna go to the bar in the first place. Ever since the breakup with Jesse, leaving the house for anything other than work felt exhausting. Not because I still missed him that much after six months. I didn’t. Not really.
Okay, maybe a little sometimes.
But mostly I just got used to being alone. Throwing on some comfort show, making popcorn and pretending my life was perfectly fine.
Unfortunately for me, I have friends like Kathy and Olivia. I’ve known them basically forever, which is probably the only reason I finally gave in and agreed to drinks at the local bar. No men. No flirting. Just us girls. Girls’ night. Woo-fucking-hoo.
I wasn’t exactly excited about it while standing in front of my mirror getting ready, but I figured I could survive two hours before coming home and continuing my peaceful little ‘divorcee lifestyle.’
Still… I tried. Tight jeans that made my ass look good. Yellow strappy top. Not because I planned on impressing any men at the bar, but because after six months of feeling miserable, I kinda wanted to feel pretty for myself again.
I curled my hair, threw on mascara and called it a day. I never really wear much makeup anyway.
Honestly? Could’ve been worse. For someone crawling out of a breakup cave for the first time in half a year, I looked pretty decent.
The loud honk outside nearly gives me a heart attack.
I jump slightly before laughing at myself.
Right. The girls.
I spray perfume on one last time before grabbing my bag and heading outside.
The second I step toward the cab, Kathy and Olivia start yelling and waving at me through the windows like they’ve already had three drinks each before even picking me up.
Which honestly… wouldn’t surprise me.
The second I climb into the backseat, they both immediately start talking over each other.
“Oh my God, Adri, I seriously thought you’d cancel,” Olivia says dramatically. “I literally told Kathy there was no way you were actually coming.”
Kathy immediately points at me. “And you look hot, by the way. Huge waste of a girls’ night.”
I snort. “Trust me, no man is suffering because I’m unavailable tonight.”
“Mmhm,” Olivia hums suspiciously.
And honestly? Even if some random guy was interested, I wouldn’t care. Okay, maybe I missed certain physical aspects of having a man around sometimes. But relationships? The emotional bullshit? The crying? The arguing? Hard pass.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The drive itself ends up surprisingly nice though. The girls keep talking nonstop until eventually they drag me into the conversation too, and after a while it actually starts feeling… normal. Easy. Like old times before Jesse and all the mess that came with him.
And for the first time in months, I suddenly realize maybe I actually want to enjoy tonight instead of just surviving it.
When we walked into the bar, it was already pretty full. Loud music, people talking over each other, glasses clinking somewhere near the back. Kathy and Olivia immediately headed for the bar to order drinks for us. And honestly? The cocktails here were actually really good. Dangerous kind of good.
By the time they came back with the second round, Olivia had already dragged me toward the pool tables in the corner. “You haven’t touched a cue in like a year,” she laughed while handing me one.
“I haven’t touched a lot of things in the last year,” I muttered before taking another sip of my drink.
“Jesus Christ,” Kathy snorted. “Okay, somebody needs to get laid.”
“Can you both shut up?”
They only laughed harder. That was the problem with best friends. They knew too much.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
A few drinks later, I was leaning against the edge of the pool table while Olivia absolutely destroyed both of us at the game and Kathy kept dancing badly every time a good song came on.
For the first time in months, I actually felt… lighter. Not okay. Definitely not okay. Jesse had made sure of that. But lighter, maybe.
And then Katy suddenly nudged my arm. “Don’t look immediately.”
Which of course made me look immediately.
A man was sitting at the other end of the bar with a beer in one hand and a cigarette between his fingers. Dark hair. Mustache. Broad shoulders hidden under a dark shirt. Older than us, definitely. And very, very handsome.
The second he realized I caught him looking, he glanced away for maybe two seconds before looking right back.
“Oh my God,” Olivia whispered dramatically after turning around to check. “He’s hot.”
“I’m not doing this tonight.”
“You’re not doing anything ever,” Kathy shot back. “It’s been six months, Adri.”
“Yeah, because Jesse turned dating into a traumatic experience.”
“That sounds dramatic.”
“It was dramatic.”
They laughed again while I took another sip of my drink, trying very hard not to look back toward the bar. Which obviously lasted maybe thirty seconds.
Because he was still there. Still looking at me sometimes between sips of his beer like he was trying not to make it obvious.
And stupidly enough, I could feel warmth creeping into my cheeks from the alcohol and the attention combined. Not because I wanted a relationship. God no. The idea alone exhausted me. But maybe I missed being looked at like that. Maybe I missed feeling wanted a little.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
By the time another round appeared at our table, I was pleasantly buzzed and warm all over, my thoughts slower and softer around the edges.
And that was probably why I didn’t notice immediately when Kathy and Olivia exchanged one of their looks. The dangerous kind. “Oh my God,” Olivia suddenly said, grabbing her purse. “I completely forgot I promised my sister I’d call her before midnight.”
“At a bar?”
“She’s emotional.”
Kathy nodded way too seriously. “Very emotional.”
I narrowed my eyes at both of them immediately. “You’re lying.”
“We would never.”
“You literally are right now.”
But they were already grabbing their jackets, both fighting smiles. Kathy leaned closer before leaving and quietly murmured: “You deserve to have a little fun for once. Stop acting like your life ended with Jesse.” Then the two traitors disappeared toward the exit, leaving me alone at the table with my drink.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
And after another minute… my eyes drifted back toward the man at the bar again. Still there. Still handsome. Still looking at me every now and then. Oh my God.
I stared at my drink for another minute before finally finishing the rest of it in one go. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the loneliness. Maybe it was the fact that for the first time in months, someone looked at me like I was still capable of being wanted. Whatever it was, it made me slide off the chair before I could overthink it.
His eyes lifted almost immediately when I stopped next to him. Up close, he somehow looked even better. Older. Tired around the eyes. The kind of handsome that didn’t seem intentional.
“Your staring is getting a little obvious,” I said before I could stop myself.
For half a second he just looked at me, then a small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Was starting to think maybe you liked it.” God. Okay. Definitely dangerous.
I leaned against the bar beside him, trying very hard to look calmer than I felt. “What if I did?”
“Then I guess I owe your friends a thank you.”
I let out a laugh before taking another sip from my glass. “You noticed them?”
“They weren’t exactly subtle.”
“Yeah, well. Kathy and Olivia think my life is over because I haven’t dated anyone in six months.”
“Six months?” he repeated. “That all?”
I narrowed my eyes immediately. “You’re annoying already.”
That finally made him laugh properly. Low and rough and unfairly attractive. “Javier Peña,” he said after a second, holding his hand out slightly.
“Adriana... Morales.” His hand was warm when I shook it.
“And how old are you, Adriana?”
“Thirty.”
One eyebrow lifted slightly like maybe he expected younger.
“You?”
“Thirty-seven.”
Yeah. That sounded about right. Older than me, but not in a bad way. More like… settled into himself. Even if there was something heavy sitting behind his eyes. “You from here?” I asked.
“Used to be.” The answer came short and simple, like there was more behind it he didn’t wanna explain.
And honestly? I didn’t really wanna explain my own life either. That was the nice thing about strangers. No expectations. No history. No Jesse.
We kept talking after that. About stupid things mostly. The music. The awful beer selection. Pool. Texas heat. Nothing important and somehow still enough to make time blur around the edges. Another drink appeared somewhere in between. Then another.
At some point my knee brushed his under the bar and neither of us moved away. I could feel the alcohol warming my face by then, my thoughts softer, slower. And judging by the way Javier kept looking at my mouth every couple of minutes, I wasn’t imagining the tension building between us either. “So,” I said eventually, tracing the rim of my glass with my finger. “What exactly are you staring at now?”
His eyes flicked back up to mine slowly. “You really want an honest answer?”
I swallowed. Maybe I was a little drunk. Maybe I was a little lonely. Maybe I was just tired of feeling absolutely nothing all the time. “I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “Maybe.”
For a second neither of us said anything.
Then Javier leaned back slightly, rubbing his thumb against the side of his beer bottle before speaking. “Look,” he said. “I’m not really looking for anything.”
The honesty in it should’ve probably offended me a little. Instead, it almost relaxed me. “Good,” I said. “Because neither am I.”
His eyes stayed on mine. “No relationship.”
“Definitely not.”
“No expectations.”
I let out a small laugh. “You always negotiate things this seriously?”
“You’d be surprised.”
That finally made me smile again.
And for a second we just looked at each other while the noise of the bar blurred around us. Two strangers. A little drunk. A little lonely. And probably about to make a terrible decision.
Javier glanced toward the window for a second before looking back at me.
“I’m not driving.”
“Good.”
Another pause. Then finally: “I can call a cab.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The cab barely even stopped completely before I noticed it. The ranch. Even in the dark, it looked huge. Warm lights glowed from parts of the main house while the rest disappeared into the Texas night around it. Somewhere farther back I could make out another building near the fields, probably a barn, and for half a second I just stared through the car window. “Jesus,” I muttered under my breath. “You live here?”
Javier paid the driver before answering. “Technically.” That answer barely made sense, but before I could ask more, he was already leading me across the courtyard instead of toward the main entrance.
We passed the larger part of the house completely, heading to the side, where another door sat under a dim porch light. His space.
The second he unlocked the door and we stepped inside, he barely had time to shut it behind us before his hands were on me.
And honestly? Mine were on him just as fast.
His mouth crashed into mine hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs while my fingers immediately grabbed at the fabric of his shirt. Everything after that blurred together into heat, alcohol, rough kisses and his jacket hitting the floor.
I barely even noticed where we were walking. At some point we stumbled into a wall. Both of us laughed against each other’s mouths for maybe half a second before he kissed me again, deeper this time, one hand sliding down my waist.
God. Maybe Kathy and Olivia deserved rights after all.
The place around us was dimly lit and warm, smelling faintly like coffee, cigarettes, old wood and something that was just… him.
I could feel the slight roughness of his hands against my skin while he kissed down my neck slow enough to make my head spin even more than the alcohol already had.
By the time we finally made it to the bedroom, both of us were breathing harder.
Javier kissed me again the second the back of my legs hit the mattress, one hand sliding under my top while mine tangled into his hair. And then, somewhere between kisses and half-drunk fumbling, reality finally caught up with us.
“Wait,” I breathed out softly against his mouth.
He stopped immediately, forehead still pressed against mine while both of us tried to catch our breath.
“I’m not on the pill,” I admitted quietly.
For a second neither of us said anything.
Then Javier let out a low curse under his breath before reaching for the back pocket of his jeans. “I think I have a condom somewhere.”
“You think?”
“I wasn’t exactly planning this tonight.”
That made me laugh softly despite everything.
He pulled his wallet out and opened it, staring at it for a second before grimacing slightly. “Okay,” he muttered. “I do have one.”
“That doesn’t sound convincing.”
“It’s been sitting in my wallet for a few months, but it should still be okay.”
I looked at him for a second. “You really know how to make a girl feel safe.”
Another rough laugh left him before he handed it to me.
I stop thinking about it completely after that. I take the small plastic wrapper from his hand, toss it onto the bed beside me and pull Javier down on top of me again before he can say anything else.
He laughs softly against my mouth, low and rough, before kissing me again. This time slower. His fingers slip under my top first, warm against my skin, and a second later the fabric is gone completely, tossed somewhere onto the floor together with his shirt.
I barely even look where it lands. I’m too distracted by the feeling of his mouth against my neck and the way his hands move over my waist like he’s trying not to rush even though both of us are already halfway gone from the alcohol and tension.
I reach for the button of his jeans while he pushes himself up just enough to help me get them off.
Everything after that turns messy and impatient again. A laugh when we almost get tangled in the sheets. Another kiss. My bra disappearing somewhere behind me after he finally manages to unclasp it.
His forehead briefly resting against mine while both of us breathe harder than we probably should already.
The room suddenly feels too warm. Too small. Too full of him.
By the time the rest of our clothes end up on the floor, I can feel my heartbeat everywhere.
Javier reaches for the condom again, but I take it from him before he can open it himself.
His eyes stay on me the entire time. Quiet for once. Almost careful underneath all the heat and alcohol.
Hell no. I’m way too drunk to think about him like that right now anyway. Or maybe I’m not thinking at all anymore. Maybe all I can think about is how badly I want him inside me already. I break eye contact first and focus on opening the condom instead. It takes me a second with my alcohol-blurred coordination, but eventually I manage to pull the small slippery thing out of the wrapper. My eyes drift down to Javier’s cock and–
Oh my God. He’s big. Like… really big. Jesus.
I swallow hard, sudden nervousness flashing through me at the thought of how the hell this man is supposed to fit inside me. But I don’t let myself think about it for long. I roll the condom slowly over the tip of his cock and down the rest of him, my fingers tightening around him slightly like I’m trying to make sure he stays exactly this hard.
Javier watches me the entire time, one hand sliding over my chest, thumb brushing over my nipple lazily enough to send another wave of heat straight through my stomach.
By the time the condom is finally in place, my entire body feels hot and restless.
Javier settles himself between my knees, spreading them farther apart, and suddenly my heart is beating so hard I can actually feel it in my throat.
Before he pushes inside me, he drags his fingers between my thighs first, testing how ready I am.
And honestly? I’m soaked. I’ve probably been soaked since the moment he said he’d call a cab.
His fingers move slowly inside my pussy and Javier lets out the faintest amused breath when he realizes just how wet I already am. “You’re fucking tight,” he mutters before he can stop himself.
In another universe, if some stranger I met a few hours ago had said that to me, I probably would’ve rolled my eyes so hard I’d see another dimension. But here? With Javier? The rough sound of his voice just sends another shiver through me instead. I grab his shoulders and kiss him hard enough to cut off whatever he was about to say next. “Please,” I whisper against his mouth.
That’s all the encouragement he needs. He slides the head of his cock slowly between my folds first, teasing my clit just enough to make me squirm beneath him before finally, finally pushing inside me. “Ah, fuck,” Javier groans directly into my mouth and I moan with him immediately.
Every fear that he wouldn’t fit disappears in seconds. Because he fits perfectly. And I can feel him everywhere. God. Everywhere. The stretch of him alone almost makes my head spin again.
For a few seconds neither of us moves properly. Javier stays half above me, breathing hard against my mouth while my nails dig into his shoulders automatically.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathe out shakily.
He laughs softly under his breath like he’s barely holding himself together too. Then he starts moving. Slow at first. Deep enough to make my thoughts completely disappear one by one until all I can feel is him, the heat of his skin, the rough sounds leaving his throat every time I tighten around him.
The room fills with breathless moans, skin against skin, the old bed creaking quietly underneath us.
At some point my legs wrap around his waist without me even realizing it.
At another point he presses his forehead against mine and curses softly in Spanish while I completely lose the ability to think straight.
And when the orgasm finally crashes through me a few minutes later, sharp enough to rip a broken sound out of my throat, one thing becomes painfully clear immediately: This was easily one of the hottest experiences of my life.
Javier thrusts into me a few more times before finally coming too with a loud groan against my neck. I can feel his cock pulsing inside me as the condom fills and… oh my God. The feeling alone almost makes me shiver all over again.
And when his cock twitches inside me one more time, my body tightens around him automatically in another wave of aftershocks that pulls a low curse from his mouth.
Jesus Christ. This is so fucking hot.
By the time it’s over, both of us are breathing hard, sweaty and half tangled in the sheets.
Javier pulls out carefully before collapsing onto his back beside me with a low exhausted groan.
For a minute neither of us really says anything. The alcohol haze is still there, softer now, heavier.
I stare at the ceiling while trying to catch my breath and somewhere beside me Javier reaches down to pull the blanket halfway over us. Not romantic. Not cold either. Just… quiet. Eventually he mutters a rough: “You okay?”
“Yeah. You?”
A tired laugh leaves him. “Well, it could be worse.”
That somehow makes me smile.
A few minutes later the room falls silent again except for the sound of the fan turning slowly overhead and distant crickets outside the ranch.
At some point, without really meaning to, we both fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed. Not touching. Not holding each other. Just two drunk strangers sharing the same mattress for one night.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Morning comes way too early. For a few seconds I don’t even remember where I am. I just lie there half-awake with a dull headache pulsing behind my eyes while pale morning light slips through the curtains. Then I feel the warmth beside me. Right. The bar. The cab. Javier. And… yeah. The sex. Jesus Christ.
I close my eyes for a second, suddenly replaying flashes of last night way too clearly for someone who drank that much tequila. His hands. His voice. The way he looked at me.
Okay. Yeah. Definitely not bad. Actually… probably one of the best hookups of my life, which honestly feels unfair considering it happened with a man I barely know.
Maybe it’s just because I hadn’t slept with anyone in six months. That has to be it. There’s no deeper meaning here. No fate. No soulmate bullshit. Just alcohol, loneliness and really good sex. Simple.
I slowly turn my head toward him.
Javier’s still asleep beside me, one arm thrown loosely across the mattress, dark hair messy from sleep and sex. In the soft morning light he somehow looks younger and more exhausted at the same time. Still ridiculously attractive though. Annoyingly attractive, actually.
I let my eyes drift over him for maybe a second too long before immediately stopping myself. Nope. Not doing this.
We already made the rules pretty clear last night. No relationship. No expectations. No complicated emotional aftermath. Honestly, that’s probably for the best.
I quietly sit up, immediately wincing at the pounding in my head. Okay. Maybe tequila was a mistake.
The room is still warm and smells faintly like cigarettes, sex and yesterday’s alcohol. My clothes are scattered all over the floor and for one horrifying second I can’t find my bra. Fantastic.
Eventually I manage to gather everything without making too much noise while Javier stays completely asleep behind me. Good. Because I really don’t think either of us needs an awkward morning-after conversation right now.
By the time I finally pull my jeans back on and grab my shoes in one hand, I glance back at him one last time. Still asleep. Still handsome. Still basically a stranger. And somehow that thought alone makes leaving easier.
So without waking him, I quietly slip out of his room and disappear into the early Texas morning before either of us can accidentally turn one drunken night into something bigger than it was ever supposed to be.
Now
The drive from the gynecologist feels unreal. Like I’m watching somebody else’s life happen from outside the car window.
The little pregnancy card sits on the passenger seat beside me like some kind of cruel joke.
Congratulations. You’re pregnant.
Fantastic.
I grip the steering wheel tighter and let out a shaky breath.
No matter how many times I replay everything in my head, it still doesn’t feel real. But the doctor confirmed it. Twice. There’s literally a tiny human growing inside me right now and considering I haven’t slept with anybody except Javier in almost a year total…
Yeah. It’s his. Jesus fucking Christ.
I stop at a red light and stare blankly ahead while my thoughts keep spiraling. I don’t even really remember him that clearly anymore after three months. Not fully. Just pieces.
Dark eyes. Rough hands. That stupidly attractive mustache. Really good sex.
But honestly? Maybe the sex only felt that good because I hadn’t touched a man in six months before him. That’s probably it.
Because whatever this is now, it definitely isn’t romantic. If anything, right now I’m mostly pissed off. At him. At myself. At that stupid expired-wallet-condom bullshit. At the universe. I don’t know.
What I do know is that I’m not driving out to the Peña ranch because I suddenly want some beautiful love story with a stranger. I don’t want money. I don’t want a relationship. And I definitely don’t expect him to magically become excited about this.
I just… need him to know. Maybe because it feels unfair carrying this alone already. Maybe because I want somebody else to panic with me for five fucking minutes.
By the time I pull onto the road leading toward the ranch, my stomach feels tight enough to make me nauseous again. I still remember the way there surprisingly well.
And when I don’t fully trust myself, asking around Laredo for directions to the Peña ranch turns out to be ridiculously easy anyway. Apparently everybody knows the Peña family. Great.
I park near the house and sit there gripping the steering wheel for another ten full seconds before finally forcing myself out of the car.
Please let him actually be home. Please don’t let me embarrass myself in front of his entire family.
Luckily the yard looks mostly empty. No kids. No giant family gathering. Just silence and distant wind moving through the trees. And somehow I still remember exactly where his part of the house is. Of course I do.
My heart pounds harder with every step toward the door until finally I force myself to knock.
Once. Twice. A few seconds pass before the door opens.
And there he is. Javier looks half-awake, confused and slightly annoyed right up until he actually recognizes me standing there. Then his entire expression changes. Confusion first. Recognition second. And finally complete shock.
For a second neither of us says anything.
Honestly, I almost lose my nerve right there. But I didn’t drive all the way out here for nothing. So before I can overthink it, I look directly at him and say the words that have been destroying my sanity all day. “I’m pregnant.”
Silence. Total silence.
Javier just stares at me like his brain stopped working completely.
And suddenly, standing there in front of him, I realize this might actually be the moment both of our lives just split into a before and after.
First of all, thank you so much for reading chapter 1
I honestly don’t even know how to explain what this story already means to me. In a weird way, it feels like a little dream I carried around in my head for years without ever really writing it down anywhere. I think part of me always imagined a life like this for Javi somewhere deep inside my brain. Not perfect, not magically healed, not suddenly free of all the things Colombia did to him… but still something warm. Something human. Something that actually feels like living instead of surviving.
And one day I kinda just sat there and thought… okay but what if I actually write it? What if I let him have this?
Not an easy life. Not a perfect relationship. Not some fairytale ending where everything magically works overnight. But a home. Family. Complicated love. Chaos. Late night talks. Fights. Healing. Stubbornness. Growing older. Learning how to stay.
I genuinely want this series to live for a long time if inspiration keeps coming. I already have so many ideas in my head for future chapters, playlists, drabbles, little side moments and random Peña family chaos. This world already feels very alive to me and honestly… I’m way too emotionally attached already for something that literally just started.
I already adore Adriana so much. Obviously I love Javi with my entire soul. Tía Rosa owns my heart. And I’m really excited to slowly introduce more people into this little world over time.
This story feels very personal to me already. In a different way than Javi’s Journal for example, but with a very similar emotional attachment behind it. Which is kinda insane considering this is only chapter one.
Anyway… Thank you again for being here at the beginning of this journey with me. I really hope you’ll love these emotionally constipated idiots as much as I already do 🤭🧡
