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Chapter Fourteen
Nala
I’ve denied myself the sight of Malcolm for over a week. I knew he had surgery, knew he was taken care of, because, despite what I tell them, both my mother and Isa keep me updated on his progress.
When Hunter called me this morning and told me he was getting in early to surprise Isa and then told me he needed my help, I promised to pick him up. It gave me the excuse to be a little late to Christmas Eve dinner, and prepare myself for seeing Malcolm after the way I left him last time.
I’m still mad. I don’t care if it’s not fair—if I know he’s apologized in his own way. The idea that he said those things to me, made me think he truly didn’t want what I did, didn’t feel what I felt, because he was trying to save me from him? It kills me.
“Maybe you should tell him that.”
Jordan called, her superhuman power telling her I needed her. Because she’s the person I trust most; she knows it all.
“But then I have to explain everything else. I knowwhyit kills me—because I can remember the girl I was after he left me. He doesn’t know that girl, though. And I don’t want him to.”
Jordan was quiet, understanding my point, even if she disagreed with it. Now, faced with Malcolm during a family event, I’m trying to figure out a way to be polite, if removed, until I find another way to organize my thoughts, and navigate this complicated relationship.
In true Malcolm form, though, he doesn’t make it easy on me. From the moment I stepped in, his eyes have been on me, tracking me, following me, watching every move I make until my heart is pounding and my skin is crawling with heat. I greet Isa and her family, laugh as everyone teased Hunter,Viejoas Isa calls him, blaming burned dishes on him since he won’t let Isa go.
I introduce my mother, and she and Carmen Rojas become fast friends over a glass of wine and homemade bread.
“It’s gluten free, vegan,” I mumble to Isa’s sister, Valentina, out of the side of my mouth. She makes a face and I nod, grabbing my own glass of wine. “So be prepared—this may look pretty, but it’s texture and taste will be nothing like what your mother makes.”
Vali smiles, tapping her wine glass to mine. “Thanks for the warning. Speaking of warnings…” she trails off and inclines her chin over my shoulder. I don’t have to look to know who she is pointing to. “Someone’s been watching the door since he got here over an hour ago. Hasn’t moved until you walked in, and then it was like watching a magnet, involuntarily standing and being pulled in the direction of the thing that has the most power over them.”
I feel the same, like there is an invisible force that urges me closer to him, but I just smile at Vali. “We had a fight. He’s probably waiting for me to yell at him again.”
Maybe all of the Rojas are mind readers, because she just blinks at me and then offers a small smile, like she knows what I’m doing. “I don’t think that’s all he’s waiting for.”
She salutes me with her wine, and then walks—more like sashays on five-inch heels that only add to her already-oozing sex appeal—to the couch where Teo, her son, is playing video games with Malcolm and Felipe.
I watch for a second, a little enthralled at the way Teo and Mal seem to be getting along, intrigued by the laughter the little boy brings out of the big man. Every time he does something good on the screen, Teo does a victory move. Malcolm and Felipe deal with it for a while, but eventually, Teo stands up and goes to dance in Mal’s face. Before he gets even half a move completed, Mal’s large, tattooed arm snakes out and grabs him, throwing him back on the couch where he tickles him until the boy screams for mercy.
I laugh because the sight… I haven’t seen Mal this carefree in a long time. Maybe because I haven’t been looking the past few years, but even before that, when I did nothing but look at Malcolm, he wasn’t like this. The bruises he carried for most of his life weren’t just on the outside. Right now, it seems like all of them are fading, and maybe his relationship with Teo is one of the reasons.
Mal looks up and pins me with a stare, and without warning, my pulse skitters and races again, and my heart—the damn traitor—beats just out of rhythm. I don’t look away, because that would make me a coward, but I’m grateful when Mom hands me a bowl of something and tells me to put it on the table.
“Roof deck,” Isa says.
“Are you sure?” I ask, sliding my eyes to the couch where Malcolm is reaching for his crutches to stand.
“Don’t baby me, Nala.”
“God forbid,” I snap over my shoulder where he’s now standing. “How could I forget you’re Malcolm Brady, all knowing, all powerful, all decisive?”
The room has quieted down a little, everyone glancing in our direction. The heat is back in my cheeks, this time from embarrassment. Mal, however, looks amused.
“Right, looks like we’re finally going to talk. Don’t wait to eat,” he says, grabbing the bowl from my hands and handing it to Isa. Then, before I can blink, he’s ducking a shoulder and wrapping an arm around my thighs, hoisting me unceremoniously over his shoulder while he hobbles to the closest door and shoves through.
I want to kick and scream, but he’s only using one crutch, and I know that any jostling from me will send us both to the floor. On second thought.
“If you don’t put me down, right now, I swear to god I will make your broken bones look like a cakewalk when I’m done with you.”
“Your threat would hold more weight if you weren’t holding your breath and trying to keep as still as possible, like you’re actually worried about me instead of mad at me.”
Now I punch him in the back, and he grunts. I do it again and he falters a little, hand tightening on my legs. “Careful, or you’ll end up with a cast that looks like mine.” Balancing on his good leg, he uses his crutch to swing the door shut, effectively locking us in the dark.
“Are we in the bathroom?”
