FORTY-THREE
VALENTINA
December 2nd, 2025
“You haven’t mentioned Rafael.”Dale stares at me expectantly, the gourmet breakfast spread set out before us straight out of a magazine. I remember when I would’ve been impressed by such a thing—yearned for a giant house full of doting workers. Now, it all seems like too much.
I rub my arm, brushing off the sudden chill. “I don’t know what to ask.” It’s as close to the truth as I can get.
More accurately, I’m terrified of what she might say, because lying in the dark last night, sandwiched between Dale and Faith, I realizedmyultimate truth: no matter how bad Santos—Rafael—is, I don’t think I can let him go.
It’s one more villainous act they can hold against me.
I’m as selfish as they all think I am, and even though I want to be better, in this particular area, there’s no hope for redemption. Rafael could be the devil incarnate, and I’d still seek comfort in his embrace.
I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I want Rafael, and there’s no way I can let him go.
“How about start with this: ‘did he hurt you’?” Stetson shoves a bite of pancake into her mouth.
My own food sours.
“Stetson, geez.” Faith rolls her eyes.
I push around the fruit on my plate, no longer hungry. “Did he hurt you?” I can barely whisper the question.
Dale sets her fork down, and I brace for the worst. In a perfect world, I’m able to repair the damage with Dale, and in turn, my brother, but not at the expense of the man I’ve come to find strength in.
I’ve been small and scared and weak my entire life. I refuse to lose that.
“He was different from his brothers, even from the start. He held me down, but he never touched me more than that. And when he held me down, he cried,Valentina. He didn’t want to—it hurt him as much as it hurt me, I expect—but his brother was evil, and I know Rafael was as much a prisoner as I was.”
My gaze flicks up to Dale’s, her face soft as she talks about her horrific trauma with such clarity. I’m in total awe of her strength, envious of it, even. As if reading my mind, she smiles. “It’s taken me months of therapy to find this perspective, V. But it’s worth it—lasting peace is worth it.”
I’ve never known lasting peace in my life.
I nibble my lip. “If I forgive him, Mateo will never?—”
Dale shakes her head. “You let me worry about Mateo. He’s just protective; it’s his greatest quality and greatest demise.”
I bite down on a quick retort, swallowing the bitter words. Instead, I whisper, “Can you forgive me?”
“Yes.” Not a breath passes between us before she says the word with such finality. I want to believe her, but the voices in my head are too loud, shouting about lies and deception.
“How?”
It’s Faith who speaks. “V, we’ve all been hurt, cut so deeply that we hide the best parts of ourselves to protect them. But friends,these friends, don’t care about your scars. We only care about the heart beneath it all. You don’t have to fix yourself to sit at this table; you just have to be brave enough to pull up a chair.”
Tears prick my eyes, and I try to blink them furiously away.
Finding Rafael’s one thing. Finding a group of friends who care only who I’m becoming and not who I was is quite another.
“Thank you.” I stutter on the phrase, its presence foreign to me.
Poppy babbles, her girly giggle drawing everyone’s attention blessedly away from my face. Quickly, I swipe away a tear, brushing it on my pant leg before gulping down orange juice.
Faith’s hand finds mine under the table, squeezing only once before changing the subject completely, directing us to lighter topics.
I’m grateful, but for more than just this. She saved me, and I’d do anything to return the favor.
