Chapter 8

Gabe POV

Gabriel rang the doorbell of his parents' house. He had grown up there but it had never really felt like a 'home'; it was cold and austere, there was no life in it. He had never been happier than when he had gotten a full ride baseball scholarship to UCLA. He had come back on breaks, mostly to see Santana, but had chosen to stay in California when he graduated last May. He had kept in touch with Santana through text, phone calls, and FaceTime but he was starting to regret leaving her behind. He knew his father was hard on her but he never imagined he'd be this cruel and unfeeling.

He was shaken from his musings when the door opened to reveal a short Hispanic woman.

"Constance," he grinned at the woman who had been the most constant adult presence in his and Santana's lives after their abuela.

"Mr. Gabriel!" the woman reached up and pulled him into a firm hug. "They didn't tell me you were coming. I don't have your room made up … where is your luggage, I'll have Manuel take it to your room."

Gabriel hugged the woman back. "I'm not staying, Constance," he looked at the woman for a moment then continued, "how much have they told you about Santana?"

"They tell me Miss Santana run away. They don't call the police, though," she frowned.

Gabriel shook his head. "She didn't run away, Constance. They threw her out." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't want to cause you any trouble, Constance, but," he handed her a business card, "if you ever need anything, or Mami does, please call me. I just found out what happened with Santana. No one had my number so no one knew how to reach me; when they threw her out they kept her phone so she didn't even have my number."

Constance nodded. "Okay, Mr. Gabriel. I only stay for tu madre. El bastardo can rot." She grimaced. "I shouldn't say such things. Lo siento."

"De nada. He is a bastard. Speaking of which, are they home?"

"Si. They're in the den."

"Thank you, Constance."

"You need anything, Mr. Gabriel? Coffee, tea, water, food?"

Gabriel smiled at the older woman. "I'm fine, thank you, Constance." He said as he walked down the hall to the den.

When he walked in, his mother smiled brightly and stood up to greet him. "Gabriel! Why didn't you tell us you were coming home?"

Gabriel shook his head and held up a hand forestalling her approach. "Where is Santana?" He asked, wondering if his parents would lie to his face.

His mother looked at the floor.

His father's jaw clenched, his eyes were cold. "At this hour, she should be at school."

"She's not. I'll ask again. Where is Santana?"

His mother sighed. "She's been staying with the Pierces."

Gabriel quirked a brow and looked at his father. "You haven't told her, have you?"

"Manten tu boca cerrada," Jorge Lopez growled.

"No, I will not shut up. You've both been lying to me for months, you lied to Constance, and now you're lying to Mami."

"This is none of your concern, Gabriel!"

"She's my sister!"

"Will someone tell me what is going on?" Maribel interrupted the stare down between the two men.

"Like you told me when you threw Santana out on a freezing cold night without a coat? Without a phone or a car or a dime to her name? She couldn't call anyone or go anywhere! Thank God Quinn found her, half-frozen, lying on a bench in the park. Brittany's family took her in, got her a cell phone, added her to their plan. She couldn't call me though because no one had my number! Months! I've spent months being lied to and waiting for a call that was never going to come." Gabe swept his fingers through his hair.

"Maldita tortillera estupida," Jorge muttered.

"DO NOT CALL HER THAT!" Gabriell growled. "Brittany saved Santana's life … twice!"

"Gabriel, ENOUGH!" Jorge roared. "This does not concern you. She is my daughter, not yours. My concern, not yours."

"She's really not your concern anymore, though, is she? Whitney Pierce is her guardian and health proxy. She's living with the Pierces. Brittany was driving her to and from school. Which brings us right back to … Santana being attacked and left for dead."

"What? What are you talking about?" Maribel looked at her husband. "Jorge?"

"It's nothing, Maribel," Jorge waved his hand as if swatting a fly.

"Nothing? Six hours of surgery and three weeks in a coma is nothing? Having Brittany break your nose was nothing? Assaulting Brittany and calling her all manner of offensive names is nothing?"

"Gabriel! What are you talking about, what happened to my Santanita? Where is she? Take me to her!" Maribel was close to hysterics.

"Maribel, silencio! There is nothing you can do and no reason to upset yourself."

"Gabriel just told us our daughter is in the hospital!" Maribel cried.

Gabe shook his head and looked at his mother with pity. "Three weeks ago, two of the football players at Santana's school jumped her. They beat her half to death and were attempting to rape her when Brittany saw them and called 911. They operated on her for six hours. She needed a ventilator because she had a collapsed lung and they placed her in a medically induced coma because of the swelling in her brain. He's known all along. He attempted to get into her room; that's when Brittany broke his nose."

"You told me you slipped on some ice in the parking lot of the hospital." Maribel looked at her husband who just looked back at her with that cold, unfeeling gaze.

"More lies."

"Take me to her, Gabriel."

Gabe shook his head sadly. "I can't, Mami. They won't let you in. The security detail has strict instructions; nobody by the name of Lopez is allowed in to see her." He didn't bother telling them that he was the exception.

"I'm her mother!"

Gabriel shrugged. "Should have thought of that before you allowed Dr. Lopez to throw her out of the house."

"It's all that tortillera estupida's fault! She corrupted Santana into a sinful lifestyle!" Jorge Lopez raged.

"She has a name; Brittany! You've known her for years. Santana hasn't been 'corrupted'; she's gay. She's always been gay. She's the same Santana she's always been; she's just being true to herself now."

Gabriel looked at his parents and realized he was going to get nowhere with them. He shook his head. "My father is dead to me," he spoke quietly, firmly, "my mother is on life support." He moved toward where his mother had collapsed on the couch and crouched down. "He's lost both of his children. One he threw away like garbage, the other is walking away. I will never forgive him. I don't know if you stay with him because you love him or because you're afraid. I do know that, as long as you're with him, you have no children."

He stood up and looked down at her. "It's a terrible thing, I know, to make a woman choose between her husband and her children but I am making you do just that, Mami. You cannot have us and him." He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "Constance has my number if you ever need it," he whispered softly.

He stood and turned toward his father. "Stay away from Brittany and Santana. You have no business with either of them." His voice was as cold and as hard as Jorge Lopez' had ever been. "If you show up again, you'll be dealing with me instead of young girls."

"I am dead to you? Fine. Then you won't need my money, either, will you?" Jorge's face was smug, apparently thinking he had just pulled a string Gabriel had forgotten about.

"No. I will not." Gabriel said, with finality, as he turned and walked away.