Ugh. I don’t want to think about it. Thankfully, I’ve got the distraction of Javier’s fingers skimming my package, the delicate brush somehow intensified by the intervening fabric. I move my napkin to my lap, and he laughs at something Ant says, curving his thumb around the bulging middle seam of my jeans before moving his hand back to the table.
He’s both bold and discreet, and I have zero doubts about what we’ll be doing later.
After dinner, we move the party to the living room, where Ant sits between Javier and me while we start the latest viral Netflix series. By the time the credits roll on the second episode, Ant’s passed out against Javier’s shoulder, his mouth hanging open.
I silently gesture for Javier’s phone and snap a couple of pics, which he sends to his family. Gently embracing Ant, Javier kisses the top of his head, a tumble of emotions making their way across his face.
“Let’s get Ant to bed and get you moved in,” I say to Javier, wiping a bit of Ant’s drool from his shirt.
He nods, then picks Ant up like a baby. Nacho rubs his chest. I know he’s thrilled for his friend, but at the same time, he’s cut himself off from his family to avoid getting pulled back into their bullshit. He found out last week that his grandmother’s health is declining, and it’s been especially hard to stay away.
We get Ant into the truck and then into his bed without him stirring even once.
“He sleeps like the dead,” Javier whispers as we shut the door to his room.
I nod, proud. “He used to be a really light sleeper, but somewhere around the third month, he started sleeping a little harder. Now he’ll sleep through just about anything.” We exchange a heated glance, and I lift a shoulder. “Hopefully, that means his body knows he’s safe.”
Javier shakes his head as we go out to his truck to gather his things. “Protected. It’s not only the absence of bad but the presence of guardians.”
“Yeah?” I ask, realizing the go-bag Javier grabs from his well-traveled truck is all he’s got. Another excellent reminder that whatever happens next is extremely temporary.
Javier slings it over his shoulder and nods, putting his hand on my back. “I’ve seen it. The kids especially—the second they feel safe, they sleep for days.”
I nod, then warn him, “Even though I know you didn’t mean it this way…maybe don’t compare him to children. At least not to his face. It’s a pretty sensitive subject.”
He nods. “He and I have had a few conversations about that. You’re right, I wasn’t thinking of him as a child, but the comparison can be harmful. Thank you for standing up for him.”
“Of course,” I say, winding my arms around his waist. “And sorry if I brought the mood down.”
He wraps his arms around me, smelling my hair. “You didn’t. I appreciate the reminder.”
We hold each other for another moment, then he releases me to go inside and unpack. I think he needs a moment to clear his head. I do too, so I grab some lounge pants and a T-shirt, then take a quick, thorough shower. Shoving my dirty clothes into the hamper, I lightly knock on his door.
“Come in.”
Javier’s rising from his bed as I let myself into his temporary digs. His bag is open on top of Bram’s old dresser, and from what I can tell, all he’s got is an extra pair of jeans, a couple of T-shirts and tank tops, a button-down, and a handful of underthings. His Dopp kit is small and efficient-looking, and in addition to the boots he’s wearing, there’s a pair of sneakers and a pair of slides off to the side of the dresser.
“Not much for material goods, are you?” I ask, closing the door behind me.
He reaches into the bag and slides a grainy picture of the entire Hernández family, housed in an old brass frame, onto the dresser.
“Doesn’t make sense to own a whole lot on the road.”
“You’ve been on the road for a while then, huh?”
He nods. “I’ve slowed down a little bit over the last few years. Some of that was wanting to be connected to my family, but some of it was me starting to accept that we were likely never going to see him again. I still wanted to help with the trafficking, but I had to stop letting it consume every minute of my life.”
“I think that’s why Charlie does things the way he does. If it were all trafficking, he’d be a very different person. Did you know he volunteers for search-and-rescue missions?”
“As in searching for lost children?”
I nod. “Anyone who’s missing, really. He’s also starting to collaborate more and more with people, so it’s not all on his shoulders.”
“What about you? Ant told me you lead the equine therapy for the rescue center and help with the guests who arrive after some of Charlie’s and Erik’s ops. I hear you even help out on the ops from time to time.”
Lifting my shirt as I lower my waistband, I show him the scar that runs from my belly button out toward my hip. “Just in case you thought you were the only badass,” I snark.
Javier steps into my personal space. “Do you mind?” he asks, his fingers hovering near the scar.
