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“Fine. Two.”
I shake my head, already visualizing the upcoming fights about to go down in 11F over the next few weeks. Somehow, I think Tristan Haverford is not going to be a compliant patient. Good thing I’ll have his family for backup.
“What you did was really stupid. Have I mentioned that?” I say, spreading my palm over the left side of his face. My thumb instinctively brushes the contours of his sweet smile.
“You may have mentioned it.” His gaze locks with mine and turns serious. “I remember it all, though, Iz, and I stand by what I said. Over and over again.”
My body warms and chills at the same time. I know he means it. That’s the problem.
“Well, I’ll be pissed if this happens again, so let’s not, okay? Try to stay out of trouble for the rest of your life?”
His grin doesn’t bode well. “No promises.”
“Are they gone?” Tristan asks.
I know he’s annoyed, so I try to suppress my smile, but secretly I’m loving watching his family shower him with attention. Ben and Yolis begged him to stay at their house after his discharge from the hospital, but he refused. Apparently, that means they’ll practically live at our place instead. It was no easy feat convincing them to go home for the night.
“You should probably get used to it,” I say. “You’re lucky they’re letting you out of their sight for even a few hours.”
I settle near him on the couch, careful to move the cushions as little as possible. I wish he’d rest in my room, but he says he’s tired of being stuck in a bed. He’s even insisting onsittinginstead of lying on the couch, even though I can tell it’s uncomfortable for him. I haven’t seen his wounds yet, but I’m sure I’ll have the pleasure at some point. He’ll need help with the surgical drain. To be honest, I’m terrified to see the damage and was glad his mother insisted on doing it before they left.
“We’ll be eating caldo de pollo for three months,” he mutters.
“I haven’t had your mom’s caldo de pollo in years. No complaints from me if she wants to feed us.”
“You remember the first time she served it to you?” he asks with a mischievous grin.
I glance at him in surprise. “Of course. But how do you remember that?”
“How can I not? You sat there for ten minutes pretending to eat it before you finally asked Kim how. You thought you were so discreet too. It was everything I could do not to burst out laughing.”
I give him a mock glare, but warmth spreads through me. It’s hard to believe he even noticed that, let alone remembered. How long has he been paying attention to me? Maybe it’s as long as I’ve noticed him.
“Yes, well, you’ll still never get me to eat that weird hot dog thing you love. Even your mom couldn’t convince me.”
“Salchicha con huevo?” he asks with a laugh. “Your loss. It’s delicious.”
“Whatever you say.”
“You eat bacon and sausage with eggs. What’s the difference?”
He’s got a point.
“The raw jalapeños you snack on with it?” I quip.
His grin is too much, and I lean forward to taste it. NowthisI could eat all day.
But what was supposed to be a gentle kiss becomes much more when my mind, body, and soul remember how close I came to losing this. I spread my palms over his cheeks to force him closer and deepen the kiss. He returns my fire, tangling his fingers in my hair and pulling it in the way I love so much. I’ve just shifted to climb onto his lap when he winces.
Crap. Forgot about that.
I sigh and drop back to the cushion.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” I warn.
A weak smile twists his lips, and I trace it with my finger instead.
