What's So Good About Picking Up the Pieces? (Vic Fuentes FanFiction)

Maybe We'll Make It After All

So..........I'm sad to announce, but it's almost time to bring this story to an end!

I have some amazing things planned for the ending, and there are still several more chapters to come before I bring this story to a close! I hate to have to end it, but it can only go on for so long! :/

But like I said- still more chapters to come, and I have planned the ending which I hope everyone will love as much as I do!!!

So keep reading!!! It's not over yet! :D

Lyla's P.O.V:

We pulled up in front of the quaint, beach front home, my heart beating a mile a minute. Jaime threw open the door and sprinted towards the front door screaming about food at the top of his lungs. Mike got out and ran after him, Tony following slowly behind. Vic squeezed my hand and looked over at me, my apprehension apparent on my face. He gave me a small smile and I returned the favor, nodding my head slightly before opening the door and jumping to the ground. I was immediately hit by the smell of homemade mexican food, the smell all-too familiar, stirring up memories of years past. Vic walked around the truck so he was standing at my side; he flung his arm around my shoulders, pulling me tightly against his side, placing a lingering kiss on the side of my head. We walked together slowly up the flower lined stone path, up the concrete steps, and through the open, red front door.

It looked just as I remembered it; the same furniture inhabited the living room, the same pictures graced the walls, the same clock hung over the fireplace. I could hear the guys chattering away in the kitchen, the sounds of Mama Fuentes scolding Jaime in spanish filling my ears. I took a moment to take it all in, the memories flooding back like it was only yesterday that I spent more time in this house than my own, that these people were my family. "Victor! Go help your brother set the table, por favor!" I heard the voice of Papa Fuentes from behind where I was standing, staring at one of the many family pictures that hung on the white-washed walls. I turned around almost involuntarily to face him. He looked exactly the same; his big, brown eyes that he passed on to both of his sons still shining, his smile still wide and warm, welcoming. "There's my Lyla," he said softly. He took a few short strides towards me and pulled me into a hug.

"Hi papa," I replied, my voice not much higher than a whisper. He pulled away, but kept me at arms length studying me.

"How are you? Are you doing okay? Are you happy?" He fired off questions, his voice full of compassion and concern. I slightly nodded my head.

"Si, papa." I paused and glanced over at Vic, a small smile tugging at my lips, causing him to smile. "I am now." Vic walked away towards the dining room to help Mike set the table as his father had asked; I remained behind with Papa Fuentes. He spoke to me with such kindness, just as he always had. It was as if I had never left, like there weren't almost 8 years of distance between us. It was as if I was still a part of this family.

"Victor, go in there and calm those boys down! I can't deal with them anymore, they've all lost their damn minds!" Mama Fuentes hollered, her voice amused, as she walked into the living room. She gave Victor Sr. a look, silently asking him to leave. He smiled at me once again and softly kissed my forehead before he ran out of the living room; I could hear him yelling at the four loud boys causing a ruckus in the dining room table, cursing at them in spanish which made me laugh.

As I looked at the woman in front of me, her skin tanned, her blonde hair cut short, I started to tear up. I couldn't help it; it was no longer under my control. I had missed her more than I thought I had; she was like a mom to me. My mom wasn't around, and from the moment I became friends with Mike she graciously accepted me into this family and took over the role without hesitation. She was there for me for everything; boy problems, dad problems, friend problems, anything and everything she was there. She practically was my mom, and those 8 years without her, without this family, were horrible.