Neither of us moves when Wesley cuts the ignition.
“Is it because of Tío Felix?” I ask softly.
“What?”
“This… distance? I’m assuming you’re not sure what to say to me—I mean, we just drove in complete silence for, like, half an hour.”
He looks like I’ve struck him. “What? No! No…” he sighs, runs his hands through his hair and gives it a frustrated tug. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I…” He reaches for my knee, covering it. “I have a tendency to close off when I’m processing.”
Grateful for the warmth and contact, I cover his hand with mine. Just another example of how we know each other, but we don’tknoweach other. I’m sensitive to being shut out, and he processes in silence. We’ll have to be aware of that moving forward. “It’s okay. It was a lot,” I agree wryly. “Are you okay?”
“I am now. Now that we’re here. Now that I can finally do my job and protect you properly,” he says, tightening his grip. The feeling of his huge, warm hand squeezing me somewhere so delicate sends a zing of excitement to my core.
You’re mine. I take care of you.
I wouldgive my life for hers.
He keeps saying stuff like that. And I know they’re not just words and empty promises. He literally stood between me and a gun—even though mytíonever would have shot at me,hedidn’t know that. And the memory of the grim determination on his face twists up my stomach and sends a little thrill shooting through me because no one has ever cared so much about my life.
But still, I can’t let him shoulder this burden. “It’s not your job to protect me, you know.”
“Agree to disagree,” he counters, eyes boring into mine. “I just want to keep you safe. Always.”
“Always safe,” I repeat with a little breathy laugh. “It’s a nice concept, but there’s no such thing.”
“Agree to disagree,” he repeats.
I crack a smile, but I’m confused. “Where is this coming from? I mean, don’t get me wrong—it’s hot as fuck when you claim me like that. I mean, damn,” I say, fanning myself and making his lips twitch. “But promising to give your life for mine is… It’s”—too much—“not like it’s your fault I’m in danger.”
“Itismy fault your life is in danger.”
I roll my eyes. “Why, because you’re a hitman? Wesley, I’m not exactly innocent in all this.Istole that data. I chose a dangerous path in life, and I always knew this might happen.” When he doesn’t look convinced, I try another angle—teasing him. “What are you gonna do, wrap me in bubble wrap? Take away my internet privileges?”
When he answers my playfulness with a contemplative look—like he’s fuckingconsideringit—I scowl and level my finger at his chest, poking hard. “Let’s get one thing straight, nerd: my life is not your responsibility; it’s mine.”
He opens his mouth to argue, and I poke him again. “Shh. I’m not done. You are not going to blame yourself for things that happen that are out of your control.We are going to take this data point—thank you very much, General—and use it to be smarter.”
“You’re right about that, of course… but this world is so dangerous,” he says softly, gesturing around him at what he clearly means bythis world. Andobviously he’s not talking about an eight-car garage. “You’re a target now. And if something happens to you…”
I know he means well. I feel some of my outrage wash away like a wave on the sand. The sand’s still wet—I’m still left with the emotions—but the reason is gone. “You know I’m smart and capable, right?”
“Of course.”
I smile at how readily he answered. “Well, sometimes the smartest thing you can do is acknowledge when you don’t know something. And I know thatyouknow better than me about what’s going on and the inherent danger. I mean, yousavedme—I’m not making light of that. I know that you’re trying to help me and keep me safe.” His shoulders sag, and he looks relieved, but I’m not done. “But…I’m an adult, and my own safety is a discussion I get to be part of. Okay?”
Abuela—as much as I love her—controlled me for years withit’s what’s best for you. How do you argue withI’m just trying to help? You can’t. The best intentions are like a warm jacket that doesn’t fit. You know why someone would want you to wear it, but it’s not right.
It took me a long time to embrace who I wanted to be, just because it was different from who she thought I should be.
“Restriction and protection aren’t the same thing. That’s called benevolent control, in case you didn’t know. I learned that one in therapy,” I add with a smirk. “Okay?”
“Okay,” he repeats.
But I can see in his eyes that we’ve only put a pin in this conversation. That’ll have to be enough for now.
He collects my bag from the back, I take the cat carrier holding Some Bills, and together we head towards themansion.
First impressions are important—they set the tone. You can’t take them back, and most people are judgmental enough to hold the first five seconds of meeting you against you—I know I am. Abuela has drilled this into me from birth. It’s why we have car lipstick. It’s why I don’t leave the house with wet hair. It’s why I feel naked without my gold hoops and pretty nails.
