I learned to protect myself from men’s fists before Rhys. “Don’t pretend like you care.”
He moves slower now, more careful. He puts his hand on my cheek. His thumb sweeps back and forth, sending goose bumps across my skin. “You should have reached out to me.”
“I thought you’d be busy. With parties. And drugs. And clubs.”
“Those things aren’t as fun as they look.”
My lips twitch. “Liar.”
“Fine. They’re pretty fun.” His thumb stops on my lips. And taps. Every nerve ending becomes electric. I feel the soft pressure of his thumb everywhere in my body. “I would have helped you.”
“Liar,” I say again, though it’s less funny this time. “You would have been loyal to Beau.”
“Yes, but I don’t think I need to choose between you two. Not now, anyway.”
“What does that mean—not now?”
“It means I had a crush on Emily Marie Causey. The whole school knew it. Even Beau figured it out. Only you seemed oblivious to that fact. You only wanted Beau.”
I search the shadows of memory—the nights I spent at bonfires and keggers so I wouldn’t have to go home. Getting in between my father and Joe, because they were always fighting. And fights meant fists. Beau had seemed like the golden boy. A path to stability. Mateo represented everything I didn’t trust—emotion and risk and drama. He’d flirted with me, but he’d also flirted with every girl in school. Some of the boys, too. “You’re making that up.”
He shakes his head, slow and certain, never breaking eye contact. “I would go to bed at night and dream about how you’d taste. I thought I’d never get to find out.”
That’s the only warning I get. The only warning I get before he leans close. His lips replace his thumb, and I startle at the change. It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed. And longer, since I actually enjoyed the sensation. At the end, with Rhys, it was about survival.
I would have endured anything for one more day with my daughter, and I did, I did. I endured everything which carried me to this moment—to Mateo Garza brushing his lips against mine, teasing glances meant to lure me closer, meant to make me trust him. Doesn’t he know I can’t trust anyone?
There’s no such thing as sex for me. No such thing as love.
There’s only my daughter and the relentless drive to keep her safe.
The temptation of warmth pulls at my bones. It makes me ache, but I force him away, panting with the force it took to reject comfort. All I want is the safe haven of strong arms, but I’ve learned the hard way how much it hurts when those same arms lash out. “No,” I say. “I can’t.”
He pulls back. Emotions cross his handsome face—surprise, curiosity, and a determination that makes my hackles rise. “You’re right. Now’s not the right time.”
“There will never be a right time.”
Before he can respond, Beau comes back inside, looking windswept. “I reached out to some people. They’re going to get started with the information we have so far. But they’ll need more. Witness statements. Corroboration.” His gaze narrows on me. “They need to question you.”
A shiver wracks me. I cross my arms in front of me, but I’m still cold. Nothing compares to the warmth of being held by Mateo. “Of course. I’ll do it.”
Anything for Paige. I didn’t come this far only to falter now. Even if I can feel a dark gaze on me, assessing, as if seeking out the weak points in a fortress. I have to stay strong.
No matter how safe it felt in his arms.
CHAPTER TEN
Jane Mendoza
The sheet on the bed curves over Beau’s hips, just below the ridges of his abs. I trace this curve, and those ridges, with a fingertip. Charting the course between muscles. He breathes deeply now. Even. It’s relaxation, even if only a brief respite.
He’s here with me, in this room made warmer from the heat of our bodies.
Waves beat at the shore outside. One after the other, relentless, like all the doubts I have.
My imagination ran wild this morning. He and Mateo drove off together. When they came back, they were arguing in low, intense voices. It makes me think whatever happened with Emily was equally as intense. What did he do when he saw her for the first time after all this time? After believing she was dead? Did his eyes flash the way they did when he looked at me? Was his face broken open with relief?
Probably. It’s naive to think he doesn’t want her. When all of this is over, when everything is back to the way it should be, he’ll want her then, too.
It just makes sense. Beau and Emily and Paige are the perfect family.
Emily’s distraught right now because she misses Paige so much, because she’s out of her mind with a mother’s panic, but she fits better with him than I do. She’s not some Houston transplant pretending to belong. She actually does belong, with her daughter and the man she loved.