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“Why?” That’s the only thing that comes out. A lump forms in my throat right after, those same emotions I’ve been pushing back—burying deep in the darkest recesses of my soul—slamming into me with the power of a wrecking ball. For a second, I’m back in that moment and listening to the man I love more than my own life talk about me as if I’m a nuisance. A pesky bug he tolerates. “How could you say that about me? Us?”
“Because I knew you were listening.” It’s his truth; I can respect that, but it stings worse knowing he said it to hurt me. I try to stand, though my legs are shaky. Once again, I’m kept in place by his arm around my midsection. “I’m an asshole, bebe. I know that and I accept all the fault here...” Ivan’s warm breath is on my neck a second before he leaves a kiss over the bite mark from earlier “...but I need you to believe me when I tell you it’s a lie. That all I was trying to do is push you away while I settled a few things.”
“Settled things?” While I’m not okay with this, the hurt has lessened. It’s becoming anger, a little resentment, but then it dies when I truly take in his expression.
Because I see him. Always have.
Ivan De Leon is loyal and protective, especially over those he loves. I’ve seen it firsthand, have been there when those walls came down and his family was threatened. His father. His mother. But it all came to a head when Thiago went to jail and at the age of twenty-one, he was stepping into the role of boss and righting wrongs that he was never at fault for to begin with.
I was there then. And damn everyone to hell, I’ll be here now no matter the outcome.
Because that’s what you do when in love. We give and give and give without asking for anything in return.
“Who’s in danger, Ivan? Is there anything I can do to help?”
Lip curling up at the corner, he taps my nose. “I appreciate the offer, but we both know I’d never allow you to put yourself in danger. Least of all for me.”
“You’re worth it to me.”
“I’m going to come back for you, but I have sins to atone for first.”
Those words throw me back; I’ve heard them before.
“Ivan?” I’m shocked to find him outside the bail bonds office, leaning against my car after work. There’s no one else in the parking lot; my parents left an hour ago while I finished filing some reports. “Is everything okay?”
“No.” He exhales roughly, the billowing smoke from his cigarette swirling around him. He taps the end, breaking the ashes, and watches as they meet the ground before scattering in the wind. “The verdict came in today.”
“I heard.” And I did. It was all my parents could talk about. They were trying to see if bail could be posted while the lawyers appealed the decision.
Because of his family ties, no one was surprised, but Thiago has no prior conviction, or charges, and that goes in his favor. That, and the evidence presented was trash and anyone with two working neurons can see it. Then, there’s the sentencing, which has been pushed back to a few weeks from now as they decide his fate.
Because of that, they can plea for a release while the appeal is presented.
No one thinks it’ll work, but there’s nothing to lose for trying.
“Had I not been stupid enough to leave evidence at the scene, none of this would be happening.”
Leaning against my car beside him, I lean my head on his arm. “You mean the corpse of the man who tried to kill you and Orlando? You did the right thing and saved your lives, Ivan.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“The blame is on the hitmen and whoever hired him. That’s who should be paying.”
Ivan’s hazel eyes meet mine while a cruel smirk grazes his lips. “They will, Sirenita. Their lives will atone for my sins.”
Suddenly, fingers snap in front of my face, and I find Ivan giving me a quizzical brow. “Lost you there. Are you okay?”
“Why are you punishing yourself for something that happened over five years ago?” I say instead as things click into place. The extra hours at work, the constant travel—his constant jumping in to take care of everything and everyone over the last few years, but it’s worse since Thiago got out of prison. “You’re still paying for something you’re not responsible for, papi.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” Shifting, I turn and straddle him before cupping his face. Immediately, he nuzzles my palm and I melt. That single action takes away any question or doubt; he does care. Yet, there’s a piece of the puzzle I’m missing an answer for: me. “You did it when they locked up Thiago and you’re doing it now. Stop hurting yourself.”
“Bebe, I promise I’m okay. There’s never a need for you to worry about me.” There’s a stubborn set to his jaw that I’m all too familiar with; he’s shutting the conversation down. “Everything will be over soon, and I’ll be back to fix this.”
“Fix what?”
“Can you wait for me?” My nod in agreement isn’t because I’m afraid to make him angry, but because I’m picking my battles instead. My love for him won’t allow me to do anything but be what he needs, and I’ll push, but not right now. “Thank you.”
