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Frowning, she jerked her wrist free, then hugged her arms around her middle. ‘Where have you been?’
He heard the hurt in her voice and his self-hatred burned brighter. Deeper.
But he’d needed the time alone. Time to bring his emotions under control. Time to work out how to explain—how much to tell her.
All of it, his conscience cried.
‘I hadn’t planned to miss dinner,’ he said. ‘There was a road accident?
?’ Her eyes widened and he quickly added, ‘Not me. Tourists.’ A group of three young Australian holidaymakers who’d run their camper van off the coastal road and flagged him down in distress. ‘I stopped to help and waited until the emergency services arrived.’
Even upset and pale, Emily was beautiful. The mint-green knee-length dress she’d donned for dinner was fresh and feminine, showcasing a figure that was starting to show subtle signs of pregnancy. Her hair was captured loosely at her nape and he knew an overwhelming desire to sink his hands into those lustrous curls, bury his face in them and breathe deeply until her scent overtook his senses and his mind was filled with nothing but her.
He jammed his hands in his pockets and nodded towards the stone bench. ‘Sit, Emily.’
Her chin came up, and for a moment he thought she might refuse. Then she sighed and sat down.
He took a deep breath. ‘The young man in the tapas bar today was Mateo Mendoza,’ he said. ‘He’s the younger brother of Jorge Mendoza, my best friend during my teens.’ He drew another breath but his chest was so tight his lungs wouldn’t expand properly. ‘When we were eighteen Jorge drowned in a boating accident. Mateo blames me for his brother’s death.’
Emily stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘Why?’
‘Because it was my fault.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘It was a reckless teenage escapade. There was alcohol involved. And the boat wasn’t seaworthy.’ He clenched his jaw against the surge of hated memories. The vision of Jorge’s pale, blue-lipped face as he slipped beneath the surface of the ocean, beyond Ramon’s desperate reach.
Emily turned her palms up, imploring. ‘Ramon. Please. I still don’t understand.’
‘I was the ringleader,’ he bit out. ‘And it wasn’t the first time I’d led Jorge on some reckless pursuit. His parents had already spoken to mine, expressing their concern.’
She was silent. Then, ‘Isn’t that what all teenage boys do? Push boundaries? Do reckless things?’
Her attempt to minimise his culpability only fuelled his guilt. She’d heard only half the story. He doubted her sympathy would withstand the rest. He forced himself to go on. He just wanted it out now. Over with.
‘I had a girlfriend at the time. Same age, eighteen. After Jorge’s funeral, she tried to comfort me but I was in a bad place. I didn’t want comfort, so I pushed her away, ended the relationship. I was blunt,’ he confessed. ‘Cruel, even.’ He paused, emotion rising, threatening to engulf him. His throat felt hot and thick. ‘She was upset. She went out with her friends and overdosed on a party drug. In the hospital, it was discovered she was five weeks’ pregnant.’ Shame burned his insides, hot and searing. ‘She lost the child.’
‘Oh... Ramon...’ Emily stared up at him, her features illuminated by silvery moonlight. ‘Did she know she was pregnant?’
‘No.’
Emily stood up, took a step towards him. ‘Which means you didn’t, either.’
He frowned. ‘That doesn’t exonerate me.’
‘Of what?’ she challenged. ‘Ending a relationship? That’s not a crime, Ramon.’
He hardened his jaw. ‘My actions were callous and irresponsible.’
‘That doesn’t make you a murderer.’
‘I killed my best friend and my unborn child,’ he grated.
She placed her hands on his shoulders. ‘You don’t really believe that. I don’t believe that. You were just a teenager.’
‘I was old enough to know better. I was reckless. Careless with the lives of the people I cared about. I hurt Jorge’s family. I hurt my girlfriend’s family. I hurt my family.’
Emily moved closer and he wanted to push her away. Urge her to protect herself. Protect their child.
