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He leans back on his haunches, glances up at me, and licks my come from his lips. Heat curls in my chest, flushing my skin as my eyes move over him, hot and hungry. This thing between us feels out of control, and I know one of us needs to be smart enough to put a stop to it. So I decide it’s going to be me.
“I want the phone you promised Solana and Georgie I would have.”
He blinks, dragged away from his thoughts as I shove my dress back down and force myself to act unbothered by what just happened.
“It’s already on the dresser,” he tells me. “I delivered it this afternoon while you were napping.”
My eyes move to the dresser, relief swelling when I see he’s not lying.
“It’s for your friends,” he reiterates. “That number is only for them.”
“And Santi,” I challenge.
His eyes darken, and I don’t like whatever it is I see in them, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Does he know what happened?” I ask. “Did he come to visit me?”
There’s a long, heavy silence that passes before he sighs and shakes his head. Something in his demeanor changes completely, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.
“Did you tell him?” I hate the edge of pain I can’t hide in my voice.
“No,” he answers solemnly. “I didn’t.”
“Of course not.” I stand and try to skirt around him, desperate to lock myself in the bathroom. But he grabs my arm and stops me.
“I didn’t tell him because something happened, Mercedes.”
His words stop me cold, and I jerk my gaze back to him, dread curdling my stomach. “What do you mean?”
“It’s Ivy,” he says gently. “She had an accident. She’s in the hospital, and they don’t know if she’s going to make it.”
I stagger into him, nearly collapsing in his arms before he catches me with a muttered curse.
“How?” I croak. “How is that possible? I have to talk to him. I have to… oh, God. Is the baby okay?”
Judge gives me an uncertain glance. “I don’t know. There’s a lot we still don’t know. They’re trying to figure it out. But Santiago isn’t in the frame of mind to answer those questions.”
A sharp ache pierces my chest, expanding outward as I come to understand the gravity of the situation. I don’t like Ivy. I don’t want to like her, at least. But there is one thing I can’t deny. My brother loves her. He sacrificed his revenge for her, forsaking our father and brother to have his own family with the enemy. I hated him for it. I resented her even more. But right now, I can feel his pain as if it were my own. As if I can finally understand what it might be like for him to have those things snatched away so coldly. He can’t go through that kind of loss again. I know he won’t survive it.
“She has to be okay,” I whisper, true regret settling over me for the first time since I began my campaign of torment against her. “She has to.”
“I know.” Judge wraps me in his arms, brushing his palm over the length of my back. “I know, sweetheart.”
7
Judge
A few days later, I’m stepping out of the shower when my phone rings. It’s Santiago. I wrap a towel around my hips and pick it up.
“Santiago.”
Silence on the other end.
“How is Ivy?” I ask.
“Stable. But no change. Nothing. She won’t wake up.”
I hear agony in my friend’s voice. Hear the torment of guilt and powerlessness.
