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After a while, his warmth seeped into me and I started to feel safe again.
“I’m worried about Dad,” I whispered as if I was admitting to a grave sin. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I am.”
“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he replied, his voice gentle, and I swear, maybe even a little bit affectionate (or maybe even a lot).
I lay there awhile, suddenly feeling even warmer.
“Eddie?”
“Sí, mi amor?”
“I’ve got to tell you something and you have to promise me you won’t get mad.”
He was silent.
“Promise?” I pushed.
He sighed. “You’re killin’ me,” he muttered.
I pressed into him. “You have to promise.”
“I promise.”
He may have promised but he clearly wasn’t happy about it.
I told him what happened, in detail, with Vince and Mace. He listened without making a single noise but his body got more and more tense.
Then I told him about the kiss and he went totally still.
“It was just…not what you think…it was…I don’t even know what it was. Mace told me not to say anything, but—”
Eddie interrupted me, “Mace’s sister was murdered while Mace was forced to watch. Got her head blown off. Shot to the temple.”
It was my turn to go totally still while I felt my blood run cold.
Eddie went on, “Probably not fun to relive and probably worth a kiss from you when the ending was different.”
I couldn’t help it. It was the flashbacks that kept entering my head. It was the ugly knowledge of why Mace was pissed off all the time. I burst into tears.
Eddie stroked my back and spoke softly to me in Spanish until, finally, I stopped crying and the adrenaline subsided. I started to get drowsy and snuggled deeper into him.
Right before I fell asleep, he said quietly, “Tomorrow, we need to have a chat.”
“I thought we were chatting,” I mumbled, half asleep.
“This isn’t a lyin’-in-bed-naked-after-getting-a-gunshot-wound-to-the-head kind of chat. This is a wide-awake-and-listen-to-Eddie kind of chat.”
Dear Lord.
Not another one of those.
I suppose if I could survive being held at gunpoint, I could survive a listen-to-Eddie chat.
On that thought, I fell asleep.
TWENTY-ONE
THE G-WORD TURNS INTO THE W-WORD
