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“She was. She was the only daughter of a proud Mexican family, born and raised in Guadalajara. She’d never even been to the US before, hadn’t even spoken the language…until she met my father.”
“Oh? Is he Mexican, too?”
“French.”
Sly grunted, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. “How the hell did they meet?”
Did she really want to go there, to share even the sliver of information about a man who didn’t deserve an ounce of her attention? Yes, because this particular sliver included her mother, a woman who deserved all her attention, her devotion, and to have her memory cherished.
“They met through a mutual friend of my grandfather’s. The tale goes that my dad saw my mom in the courtyard of the family hacienda, and he fell in love at first sight. My mom was only nineteen, and she was swept off her feet by the charming, worldly, dashing older man. When my dad proposed, he promised to take her to see the world.” The fucker promised many things…like love, faithfulness, and protection. He’d broken every promise, just as he’d broken Maria Mendez. “My mom moved to Georgia to be with my dad, then they had AJ a few years later, then me a few years after that. Mom died when I was nineteen.”
Sly kissed her softly, reverently, offering his comfort without the words. “What about your dad? Is he still alive?”
Her heart slipped, fell, and shrieked in pain.
Just the mention of him made every nerve ending her body scream. No! He had no power over her any longer! She was free of him, of his sadistic evil, of his misogynistic nastiness that ruined every good thing in his life—and hers. And her mother’s.
Henri Dupree was a waste of space, a waste of breath, and didn’t deserve a second—or even first thought. He was nothing to her or AJ, especially after what happened to her mother.
She wished she could roll back over, tuck her chin into her chest, and ignore Sly’s question. Right now, however, Sly was looking at her like he was waiting for her to crack. Like he knew the question was a difficult one…but he had faith that she would woman up.
Say something!
“He is another story. As far as AJ and I are concerned, we’re orphans. It’s just AJ, me, and our grandfather now.”
Again, Sly leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. She hummed in pleasure—and not the sexual kind. The kind that was like warm fireplaces in the dead of winter, hot apple cider in the briskness of fall, a cool dip in the pool in the stickiest heat of the summer.
Lord, she was turning into a poet. What is this man doing to me?
Time to change the subject.
“So, no siblings for Sylvester. Weren’t you lonely?”
He chuckled at her obvious move to take the focus off herself. She mentally shrugged.
“No. I was lucky enough to live right up the street from a know-it-all little pipsqueak, who wore thick glasses, holey jeans, beat-up sneakers, and a smile big and wide enough to turn any enemy into a friend. He moved to the area when I was seven, then, one spring morning, he almost ran over me with a red wagon. I yelled, he laughed, and we became best friends in the blink of an eye. We were inseparable—like brothers.” The smile on Sly’s face was one of happy remembrance…with a hint of pain. His grin said “good times,” but his eyes read sorrow.
There was a story there, one she wanted to hear but also feared to hear because she knew that if they dared tread that path, the payment for passage was a few painful truths of her own. And she wasn’t ready.
Will you ever be ready?Yes. She wanted to think she’d conquered enough personal crap to say she was a survivor, a thriver, someone who could sit on the heap of enemy bodies and crow her victory. But…just sitting there, opening the door to her past just that little bit, just that tiny crack, and she wondered if she was blowing smoke up her own ass.
“Jake and I….” He laughed softly. “He and I would do the stupidest shit, but we would usually come out unscathed.”
She dropped her chin to the plateau of his hard, smooth chest and commented, “Sounds typical for little boys.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, chuckling, making her entire head wobble. “We did everything together; learning to ride bikes, first cigarette, first taste of beer, first pu—
She smacked his six-pack. “If you’re about to say pussy, please don’t. I don’t want to hear about that.”
He flinched, playing like her hit even phased him, then laughed. “Joking—joking!”
“Uh-huh.” She rolled her eyes, making his smile even bigger.
Good! Smiles meant happiness instead of sadness. More smiles!
“Like I said, we did everything together—except losing our virginities. We even went to the same college.”
“Where?”
