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The thought instantly makes my blood run cold. Nothing truly feels safe anymore.
“How about a movie?”
“Fine. But I’m not watching The Notebook.”
“What’s The Notebook?”
He groans. “Ah, see, now I feel like you’re missing out on a right of passage or something.”
I smile, and it comes to me so easily. “I’m sure I’ll live.”
I wheel him into the huge living room. There’s no theatre room in this house, but there is a massive flat screen on the wall. Lucas wheels himself over to a bookcase and pulls out a DVD, handing it to me. “Just press that button.” He points to a button on the little machine on a shelf, and I follow his instruction, putting the disc inside. He wheels back over to the large corner couch. “I might need a hand.” I offer him my hand, and he takes it, hauling himself out of the chair and flopping down on the couch.
“So, uh, what happened to your hand?” The hoody I’m wearing covers the bandages on my arm, but there’s no hiding my hand. Just like that, my mood darkens, and even Lucas can’t keep my morbid feelings at bay.
“My sister cut my finger off,” I say coldly.
“That’s…”
“Fucked up? Yeah.” I tug my sleeve down over the bandage, not wanting the reminder.
“You have a missing finger, and I walk like a guy who’s drunk a bottle of tequila. What a pair we make,” he says, a gawky grin on his face and a flush in his cheeks. I know he’s trying to make me feel better, but he makes me feel so guilty. I lost a finger. He lost his ability to walk properly. Three months in, and he’s still using a wheelchair. I’m horrible.
“I’m sorry,” I take his hand, and he threads his fingers through mine.
We sit, and I watch The Notebook for the first time ever. Lucas falls asleep about ten minutes in, and I smile as he slumps awkwardly against me. I end up putting a pillow on my lap and rearranging him until he looks comfortable. This movie is heartbreaking and beautiful, and by the end, I’m crying. I’m not sure if I’m sad or happy.
I’m just swiping away tears when I hear a throat clear. I look up and find Rafael leaning against the doorframe, thick arms folded over his chest.
“The kid ‘Notebooked’ you, didn’t he?” I sniff, and he shakes his head. “Trying to put the moves on my girl.”
I snort. “He didn’t even watch it. Passed out and snored the entire way through.”
Rafael moves closer, glancing over the back of the couch at Lucas’ sleeping form. “Looks like he got a good spot.”
I tilt my head back against the couch cushions until I can see him. “Are you jealous?”
He grabs the back of the couch and bends down until his lips press to mine. He kisses me slow and sweet. “Maybe.” I quickly remember Lucas and a blush heats my cheeks.
“Rafe.”
He pushes up until he’s hovering over me? “Are you getting shy on me?” I shake my head, and he laughs. “You’re going to have to move sleeping beauty there. We’re going into Juarez.”
I frown. “Why?”
“I have business.”
“And I’m coming with you?”
He releases a slow breath, his expression becoming pinched. “I don’t trust anyone else with you, avecita.”
He glances at Lucas, so I shift my weight, carefully sliding away and replacing my lap with a cushion. Standing up, I round the back of the couch and go to Rafael. His lips are pressed together in a tight line, his jaw ticking furiously.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, placing my hand on his chest. His heart beats erratically beneath my palm.
“Nothing.” He kisses my forehead. “Business stuff. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Rafe.” I eye him. “Just tell me.”
