The streets of Oakland were eerily quiet as Gabriella and Bode drove through the city, the clock on the dashboard glowing with the late hour—2:00 AM. The neon lights from a few still-open bars flickered ominously, casting long shadows across the deserted sidewalks. Gabriella's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white as she focused on the directions her phone was providing.
"We're close," she muttered, glancing over at Bode, who was scanning the streets with the same intensity. His presence beside her was both comforting and unnerving. Comforting because she knew he would do whatever it took to help her find Manny, but unnerving because of the unresolved tension between them—a tension that had only grown more complex with time.
"Looks like an illegal gambling den," Bode said quietly as they pulled up to a nondescript building. The windows were covered with heavy drapes, and a burly man stood by the door, his eyes narrowing as he saw the car approach.
Gabriella parked, taking a deep breath before looking over at Bode. "You ready?"
"Always," he replied, his voice firm but laced with a hint of concern. "But are you?"
She hesitated, biting her lip as her eyes met his. "I have to be."
Bode nodded, understanding the weight of her words. He reached over and squeezed her hand, a brief but reassuring gesture, before they both got out of the car.
The man at the door eyed them suspiciously as they approached. "You lost?"
"We're here for Manny Perez," Bode said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The man's expression didn't change, but after a moment, he stepped aside and motioned for them to enter. Gabriella's heart pounded in her chest as they walked through the door and descended a dimly lit staircase that led to the basement.
The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, smoke, and desperation. The low hum of voices and the clinking of poker chips filled the room, but Gabriella's focus was singular—finding her father.
She spotted him almost immediately, slouched over a table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot, and his usually strong posture was hunched and defeated. Her heart clenched at the sight of him like this—so far removed from the man she had always looked up to.
"Dad," Gabriella called out softly as she approached, trying not to draw too much attention.
Manny looked up, his gaze unfocused at first, but then recognition flickered in his eyes. "Gabriella? What… what are you doing here?" His words were slurred, his movements sluggish.
"I'm here to take you home," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "You've had enough."
"I'm fine," Manny grumbled, trying to wave her off, but his hand wavered as he reached for the bottle. "My luck is just about to change, Mija. I can feel it."
Bode stepped in, his voice steady and authoritative. "No, you're not and its not. Let's go."
Manny's eyes flicked to Bode, and for a moment, it looked like he might argue, but then something in Bode's expression made him pause. He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping even further as he finally nodded in reluctant agreement. "Alright… alright. Let's get out of here."
Bode helped Manny up, the older man leaning heavily on him as they made their way back to the car. Gabriella followed, her heart heavy with both relief and sorrow. She hated seeing her father like this, but at least they had found him before things got any worse.
They drove in silence to a nearby motel, one of the few places still open at this hour. Gabriella checked them in, grateful that the receptionist didn't ask any questions as she handed over the key to the last room they had available.
When they reached the room, Gabriella and Bode guided Manny inside. The small space was clean but basic—two double beds and a couch that looked like it hadn't been comfortable in decades. Manny collapsed onto one of the beds, his body sinking into the mattress as he mumbled something incoherent and passed out.
Gabriella sighed, pulling a blanket over him and brushing a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Dad," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Bode watched her quietly, his own emotions swirling beneath the surface. He wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't sure how—especially not when he was still wrestling with his own feelings.
Gabriella straightened and turned to Bode. "You should take the other bed," she said softly. "I'll sleep on the couch."
Bode shook his head, already walking toward the small, uncomfortable-looking couch. "No, you take the bed. I'll be fine here."
"Bode, that couch is barely four feet long," she argued, her voice firm despite her exhaustion. "We can share. It's not like we haven't before."
He hesitated, the memory of their past rushing back—night they spent together that was anything but innocent. But things were different now. "Are you sure?"
She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I'm sure. I trust you, Bode."
His resolve wavered at the warmth in her voice, and finally, he conceded. "Alright."
They both moved to the other bed, the atmosphere between them charged with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Bode pulled off his socks and shoes, but otherwise stayed fully dressed. He stayed on top of the covers, creating a physical barrier between them even though the tension between them felt like it could break at any moment. Gabriella turned off the light, the room plunging into darkness except for the faint glow of a streetlamp outside.
As Bode lay there, the scent of Gabriella's shampoo filled the air around him—sweet, familiar, and intoxicating. It brought back memories he'd tried to bury, memories of when their shared future was laid out before them, before everything had gone wrong. He tried to push the thoughts away, to focus on the present, but it was hard—especially with her lying so close beside him.
At some point during the night, Bode drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him. He wasn't sure how long he had been out when he woke up to a soft weight against his chest.
Gabriella's head was resting on him, her breathing slow and steady as she slept peacefully. His heart raced at the contact, his mind torn between the comfort of the moment and the reality of their situation. He knew he should move, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when this felt so right, so perfect.
He closed his eyes again, letting himself savour the feeling, even if just for a little while. For now, they could pretend that everything was okay, that the world outside didn't exist.