Page 62 of Reno

He let out a long breath. “Every now and again, I see something, hear something, or smell something that causes me to remember the war. When it happens, I kind of flip out. I wad up in a ball and can’t deal with life or anything in it. It scares the shit out of me that it’s going to happen someday, and you’re going to be around to see it. I wanted to tell you about it and see if you still wanted to continue with me.”

Holy crap!

He’d just described what happened whenever I saw snakeskin boots or smelled certain colognes. I thought I was all alone in my episodes of anxiety. Reno and I were far more alike than I imagined.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was thinking.”

“About?”

I never thought I’d be able to admit my faults to anyone without being criticized for being a weak-minded woman who was incapable of dealing with her past. Knowing Reno had the same problems gave me tremendous relief.

“I do the same thing,” I admitted. “Exactly. When I smell certain crappy colognes or see snakeskin boots. It reminds me of Angel. I get all tingly, and then I start shaking. I end up in a really weird mood that sticks around for several days. I was smiling because I thought I’d never run into anyone who had the same problem as me. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.”

“Was your relationship with him violent? You said he had you kidnapped, I guess that’s violent enough.” He shook his head. “Never mind. I know the answer.”

I swallowed a little pride. “Do you really want to know?”

“Sure,” he said. “If you want to tell me about it.”

I drew a long breath through my nose and let it out my mouth. Then, without thinking, I just started talking.

“I met him when I was seventeen. He was thirty-one or thirty-two at the time. I didn’t tell my parents about him, because I thought they’d be disappointed about the age difference. I feared the gangs, the violence, and the possibility of being raped. He gave me comfort.” I paused, knowing I couldn’t go into detail about what happened without becoming extremely emotional. After a moment, I decided to provide as few details as possible. It would be easier. “I had no idea who he was at the time. His father oversaw the cartel back then, and I didn’t even know it. Our relationship started with me thinking he was a regular guy who could protect me from being hurt.”

I rolled my eyes at the thought. “The first six months or so were pretty normal. He was demanding, but he was the first man I’d ever been with, so I thought it was normal. Later, his demands had repercussions attached to them. Do this. If not, these things will happen to you. From there, it got worse. The sex was just that. Sex. It was always forceful. There were times when he raped me. You might think that’s impossible, considering we were together, but it happened. He beat me. He abused me mentally, physically, and emotionally. I accepted it. All of it. I told myself it was my penance for my safety. One day, I opened the door to the side of the house because I thought I heard something. The first thing I saw were his boots. He was standing in a pool of blood, beating a guy with his pistol. Later, he admitted to me who he was, and what he did. He acted like I knew all along, I didn’t. I left him right after that. He sent people after me. I left again, and again. Sometimes I’d be gone a day, sometimes a few weeks. A month, maybe. Each time he got me back, things were worse. You don’t want to know some of the things he did to me. You really don’t. I confessed to my family that I was seeing him, but never told them the truth about how he treated me. We moved here to escape him.” I managed to offer him a crooked smile. “It wasn’t that bad compared to war, I’m sure.”

He reached across the table and cupped his hand over mine. “I’m sorry.”

I nodded. “Me, too,” I murmured. “Live and learn, I guess. I was young and foolish.”

“I don’t want to do this friends with benefits thing,” he said, squeezing my hand as he spoke. “Not anymore—”

We’d barely got started, and he was wanting to end it. I found it selfish of him to cast me aside after everything I’d confided in him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snapped. “After everything—”

“I want to be together.” He lifted my hand. “Boyfriend-girlfriend. I don’t know, whatever it’s called.”

“You want to what?” I blurted, speaking before my mind had a chance to process what he’d said. I stood, taking his hand with me. “You want to be together? Like officially together? Not friends?”

“I think so.”

I tugged against his hand, forcing him to stand. “You think so?” I chuckled. “You’re so wishy-washy. Is that what you want?”

“I want to try and do this right,” he replied. “But if I end up flipping out, I don’t want you to leave me.”

Leaving him wasn’t a possibility. Not unless he abused me. I couldn’t see him doing that, but if he did, he’d never see me again. No question about it.

“That’s not what a good woman does,” I said.

“What does she do?”

I hugged him, resting my head against his shoulder. “She holds you until everything is better.”

My fear, in knowing Reno was attempting to lure Angel over the border, was that things were going to get a lot worse before they got any better.

22