That long ago day, Antonio had clutched it while wrapping himself in that pewter-colored afghan, telling his brothers the blanket was his shield. The watch was his treasure. He’d been a child trying to find a frame of reference for the unimaginable.
Then the attack had come just two blocks before they reached the ship that was supposed to carry them away from San Rinaldo. They’d been in a park, such a benign place. Duarte and Antonio had thought they were deep in a forest, but their childish minds had misperceived. They’d been so small, everything must have appeared larger than from Carlos’s teenage perspective.
Still, when the attack had started, he’d told Duarte to watch over Antonio. And he, as the oldest, would protect their mother. Duarte had succeeded. Carlos had failed. Now, Antonio had saved their father. The baby boy of the Medina family wasn’t so little anymore. Antonio filled the bed with his bulk, an avid outdoorsman even now that he could kick back in an office if he so chose.
They’d all come a long way since that nightmare escape from San Rinaldo. Yet, at the moment, he could have sworn he was still stuck there, in that day, with a home and family he could never have back.
Was it any wonder he’d screwed up so badly with Lilah?
His brother’s eyes opened heavily, cutting short maudlin thoughts.
Carlos forced a smile and placed the watch on the end table by a cup of ice chips. “Welcome back.”
“Our father?” he croaked out, rustling the sheets with slow shifting, followed by a wince.
“Is fine. Resting comfortably. As you should be doing.” Carlos passed the cup of ice shavings to dampen Antonio’s mouth until his doctor gave the okay for drinking again. “You, my brother, look like hell.”
“Is that any way to talk to the guy who saved the day?” Antonio joked in a raspy voice.
“Ah, now I know you’re all right.”
“Damn straight.” He laughed, then coughed with another wince. “Thanks for sitting with me, but don’t you have a new bride to spend time with?”
“She’s, uh, resting at the hotel.”
Antonio’s eyebrow shot up, his gaze unexpectedly clear. Canny. Too damn shrewd. “You’re a really crummy liar.”
“And you’re a crummy patient.” He passed his brother a small pillow. “Hold this against your incision when you cough. Coughing is good, expands your lungs and keeps you from getting pneumonia. Practice while I find Shannon.” He started to stand.
Antonio clamped a hand on his wrist, his grip surprisingly strong for a guy who’d just been through major surgery. “What’s wrong? And don’t dodge. We know each other too well. You go into doctor mode whenever you’re uncomfortable.”
His baby brother most definitely wasn’t a kid anymore. Still, Carlos didn’t want to unload his problems on someone in his brother’s condition. Although it was unlikely Antonio would even remember given residual anesthesia still seeped through his system.
And hell, he didn’t know what to say to Lilah back at the hotel anyhow.
Carlos sank back into his seat. “Lilah thinks I married her just to make our father have the surgery.”
“Did you?” Antonio asked. “I’m not judging. Just wondering.”
“Partly. But not fully.” Carlos looked at his clasped hands. “She’s pregnant. Apparently I’m not shooting blanks anymore.”
“Congratulations, my brother.” He raised a fist, woozily, but steady enough to be bumped by Carlos’s fist in salute. “So I’m guessing you forgot to tell her you love her. It might not be obvious to the world at large, but to your family it’s apparent how far gone you are for her.”
His eyes slammed shut. Of course he was. Of course he had been since that morning after the fundraiser when he’d run scared from how Lilah tore down walls inside him, how she forced him to step out of the shadows of the past and face the future. Face the risk of loving, of possibly losing that person.
Because, hell yes, he loved her, with a fierceness that rocked him.
“Far gone? That I am.” He couldn’t avoid the truth in his brother’s words. “What makes you think I botched the proposal?”
“You’re a brilliant surgeon and a gifted musician, but when it comes to words?” Antonio shook his head on the pillow. “The years you spent in the hospital cost you communication skills.”
Carlos resisted the urge to snap a sarcastic comment. He’d had enough of people raking him over the coals for one day. Standing, he glanced at his brother’s vitals, happy to distance himself with the role of doctor. “You should rest.”
“And you should listen to me.” His gravelly voice carried an undeniable authority. “Women like to hear the words. Unless you are afraid to say it.”
Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Calling me a chicken isn’t going to work. We’re not kids on a playground.”
“Granted…” Antonio paused for another cough. “But I can’t forget the way it motivated me.”
“Pardon?” Was the anesthesia making his brother incoherent? If so, did that mean he could disregard the love advice too?
Antonio set aside the pillow. “That day we were leaving San Rinaldo.”
“I still don’t know what you mean.” His memories of that day were full of blood and pain. “I just remember… Mother.”
His brother nodded shortly, his face creased with an agony that clearly had nothing to do with incisions or surgery. “But after she died, you got us out of there. You kept us going, even told me to stop being a chicken and move my ass. Duarte and I would have died without you that day.” The steady beep of his heartbeat on the monitor filled the silence as he swallowed another ice chip. “I understand it chaps your hide that you weren’t the one to give an organ to save our dad. But, hell, Carlos, you can’t be the hero all the time. It doesn’t hurt to be a regular guy every now and again.”
He hadn’t thought of it in quite those terms, but his brother’s words resonated. Since their escape, he’d been trapped in the past. Trying to save others, save his father, somehow erase the time he’d failed to save his mother. He’d allowed that day to put a wall between him and moving forward with a normal life.
And he’d allowed that wall to block him from seeing what was right in front of his face—an amazing woman to love. He loved Lilah Anderson Medina, and the time had come to not only show her, but to tell her.