Chapter Twenty Three : Logan Martinez

Pov, William

"Is it delicious?" I ask the kid on the park bench next to me, and he stops licking his ice cream. He turns his head toward me, smiling, and nods a little.

I smile back and look back at the emptiness, thinking about what my dad said.

Do I really have to do this?

How will she react when she sees the son she hasn't seen since he was nine?

What about me?

How will I feel when I see her?

I ruffle my hair, annoyed, and blow air out of my mouth, getting my son's attention. He turns back to me, watching my sad expression, which I'm trying hard to hide so he won't worry.

But I fail.

"Is something bothering you, Dad?" He asks.

Should I tell him?

I sigh deeply. I'll tell him at some point.

"Evander, listen."

I stutter, trying to find the right words, and his curious gaze is making me nervous.

"I know where I can find my mom." I say.

I see his eyes widen and he gets closer to me, his forehead almost touching mine. "Really? What are you waiting for to meet her? Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes, but..."

I swallow hard, and the words are getting out of my head. He suddenly grabs my hand and rushes me to stand up.

"No way! Let's get her back!"

"No, Evander, it's not that simple!" I frown and pull my hand back. We're standing facing each other, and then I go on after looking away from him. "I'm just not feeling ready."

He doesn't say a word, but I can feel him looking at me. I look back at him, and he smiles big and says.

"Once a warrior is on the battlefield, there's no going back. You either fight the war or you wait for someone to tell you when you're ready to fight it. Just remember that the person you're waiting for might not exist."

I furrow my eyebrows, trying to analyze every sentence with my mind. In the end, I realize that the son is the one who gives advice to his father, and his words are deeper than his age.

This made me feel a bit weird.

But it does make me think twice before making a decision.

But at this point, I've already made my decision.

...

"Don't mess with my stuff, and don't bring anyone to my house when I'm not there, okay?" I give my cousin a hard stare while I hold my bag. He nods and smiles, but I don't like it.

"He's here with me, so don't worry, William. Just go find your mom. We'll be here when you get back," my aunt says. I smile and nod, then head out to my car, where Evander is waiting for me.

"Ready?" I ask him before turning the car key, and he nods and smiles, saying, "Of course."

"Goodbye, idiot!" He waves his arm to Harry, who frowns and says nothing. Then, we start our trip.

...

I put the bags aside to swipe the card on the lock, and the door opens. We go in, and I drag the bags with the help of my son. Then I toss them in the corner, jump on the bed, close my eyes, arms wide open, yawning lazily.

Traveling is really tiring.

I smile a little as I watch the goblin jump from corner to corner and explore the place, touching every object that catches his eye with admiration on his face.

"Do you like the place?" I ask him, and he turns to me with a smile and says, "Yes, very much."

He's standing in front of the window, pulling the curtain aside to take a look outside.

I get up and move toward him, I stand next to him, taking in the view of the city, and I tap the window with my index finger. "That beautiful building is called Big Ben," I say. "It's what makes this city so unique—London."

I look at him and see he's smiling, so I cross my arms over my chest and ask, "Hey, do you want to go out for a night on the town and check out the city?"

He looks at me, his eyes bright, and then shakes his head and smiles, "Yeah."

...

I pull Evander's coat out of the suitcase and put it on him. I grab a white wool hat and a scarf that matches, wrap it around his neck, and he's all set to brave the cold. I treat him like a little kid. I never got the chance to live those moments with him.

I smile at his cute doll-like figure, but I can't handle how cute he is anymore. So, I gently stroke his cheeks and talk to him like a kid, and he just gives me a warm smile.

"Let's go." I say excitedly, put on my coat, and get ready to go out with him.

...

Pov, Evander

We're walking side by side on the sidewalk and through the alleys. The darkness I feared isn't scary anymore when I see these shops and lamps that look so beautiful as they light up the place.

I see a glass ball behind a store window and stop to take a look.

I take a closer look and I find it cute. It has a miniature tree inside, covered with a white sheet.

"Do you like it?"

My dad interrupts my train of thought. I look over at him, and he's got a smile on his face. I nod slowly.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, "Just wait for me here, okay?"

I see him walk into the store, and the bells on the door make a beautiful sound when he opens it.

I let out a little sigh and rest my back against the store's glass, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket.

"Even if I mix all the colors, I won't get a color that matches your irises."

Who is he talking to?

Is he talking about me?

I look over at the owner of the voice, and he's sitting in a small wooden chair near me, with a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other, totally focused on what he's doing.

"Excuse me?" I say.

He gets up from his chair and starts coming towards me, so I take two steps back. I lower my gaze to his outstretched hand.

I flinch when he suddenly says, "Logan Martinez, I'm a painter. Nice to meet you."

He smiles at me, and I don't say anything. Maybe I don't want to talk to strangers.

Wait, did he say his name was Logan Martinez?

He shares the same last name as my father.

I furrow my eyebrows, wondering if he looks anything like my father or if I'm just imagining it.

He pulls a small card out of his jacket pocket and hands it to me. "I own a gallery," he says. "It'd be great if you'd visit."

I take the card from his hand and check it out. I look up at him, but he doesn't stay long. He waves goodbye as he walks away.

Is he weird or am I imagining things?

I'll admit that I got a little scared.

I put the card in my jacket pocket, and when I turn around, I see my dad standing right behind me.

"What's wrong, Evander? Why do you look scared?" He asks.

He didn't see him.

I stare at him silently, or rather absentmindedly, until I shake my head in denial then answer, smiling so as not to worry him. "Nothing, I'm just a little tired."

He looks at me with raised eyebrows for a second, then calmly helps me adjust the scarf that had almost slipped from around my neck again. "Let's head back to the hotel."

...