CHAPTER 22
Addler
The thing that gets you when you live on a ranch is the isolation. Normally, I enjoy watching the sun set in the distance, but tonight, it’s like being held in a cage, regardless of the ranch being a hundred thousand acres.
The image of Elena walking out is as clear as if it were happening right now. Her shoulders stiffen, her back goes straight, and her expression turns carefully blank. A knife twisting inside my gut at every turn. The echo in my head reminding me I brought it upon myself. Worse, it came in the form of my grandfather’s voice. He may be a hard-ass, but he’s never been wrong.
At the end of the call, she wouldn’t even look at me. Her carefully controlled anger slips as she shuts the laptop. The zzzt of the edges going into the backpack. The rattle of oversized zipper tabs as she grabs the bag without bothering to close it. Then she turns away from me. I need a ride to my car, Sage. It wasn’t that she ignored me. I knew it was her cutting me out of her life.
The whole thing’s been going through my head for the last few hours. There wasn’t a place I could be without thinking about her. The bedroom, the hall, the office, the table, the kitchen. Hell, the kitchen floor. I finally had to come sit outside to have some peace. As long as I don’t look at the grill, I’m okay.
I bring the bottle to my lips and take a drink. I’ve been sitting by the pool so long, the sun’s gone down, and the beer’s grown hot.
The French doors open behind me. I don’t need to turn to know who’s coming.
“How’s Isabela?” I ask without glancing over my shoulder.
“She’s doing okay,” Mayela replies.
“What did the doctor say?”
“Her nerve endings are acting up, and she started getting stabbing pain. It comes with the territory, but Bill, being Bill, he took her in to have the doctor check her.”
I nod, understanding his concern. Who could fault a man for being worried about his wife? They’ve been married longer than I’ve been alive. When she hurts, he hurts also. With her blood type and age, the best I could do is have her pushed up on the transplant list. There’s so many people waiting, her chances are slim.
“I’m glad it’s not anything worse.” A warm breeze drifts by.
“I thought I should come by to check on you before going to bed.” She’s always been thoughtful that way. “Ezequiel told me to knock.” The amusement in her tone is unmistakable. “So I don’t interrupt anything.”
I won’t be living that down anytime soon. Even though he saw her leave, saw me sit there like some fucking statue, he told Mayela to take care.
While she won’t flat-out ask, it’s her own way of digging for details of what happened. “No need to worry. She’s gone.” The words seem to come from somewhere outside myself. I bring the bottle up again, choking down a bitter swallow, in more ways than one.
She sighs. “I figured as much when I saw you out here on your own.” She hands me a fresh bottle, moving around me to sit on the deck chair next to mine.
“Thanks.” This is new territory for me. While my instincts are yelling at me for being a fool, I’m trying my best to do what’s right for her. Elena’s always been different from everyone else…special.
“How are you doing with that?” she asks, baring the wound I’m trying to let heal.
“Fair enough.” I lean forward in the deck chair, the wood groaning as I adjust. “I guess as well as can be expected.” That’s all I can imagine, never having given a damn about a woman before. Even when I was confined to the ranch, it hadn’t hurt like this. Maybe working in the hot sun had made me sweat it all out. I’d ended my days too tired to even think.
“That girl’s always been your weakness,” she points out.
“You’re not wrong.” I take a drink, thinking back to when I first met Elena. Pretty young girl. She would have been sixteen. From what I heard, one of the few who didn’t have a quinceañera because her mama couldn’t afford it.
While they made her out to be poor, meek Elena, she had more spine than most. She was the first person, outside of Mayela, who called me on my shit. If you’re not going to do the work, find another chemistry partner. You may be able to fall back on your daddy’s name, but I don’t have the same luxury.
It struck me that that’s exactly what everyone expected. For me to fall back on my father’s name because that’s what people do now. Not because they have a great love for their heritage but because it’s the easy way to get through life without having to put any effort into it.
“I hear you kept her here all weekend.” She takes a sip of her hard apple cider.
“Yeah. Thought I could get her out of my system.” I’d said that to her, only half believing it would be true. Because deep inside, I know this thing with Elena is more than mere obsession. The de Marcos, and the Torres before them, have never divorced. They’ve found their mate and stayed together until death do you part.
“Didn’t work?” she asks, clearly already knowing the answer.
“I’ve been sitting out here for hours, talking myself out of driving over to her house, picking her up, and dragging her back here.” There’s significantly more than that, which I won’t share with Mayela. Rope, zip ties, duct tape, Velcro. Having Elena tied to my bed. Fucking her until my cock is raw or she agrees to stay—which ever comes last. “So no, not by a long shot.”
“So, why did you let her walk out?” She makes it sound so simple, yet it takes sorting through half of my life to come up with an explanation.