Faith looks at me, and I begin to wither. Months of therapy and working on myself is great, but it’s only a start—trapped in a corner, and I already feel myself slipping.Did I do something wrong?
She rushes me, pulling out of Dale’s grasp to wrap her arms around my neck. I stand awkwardly before quickly patting her back and pushing back slightly. She’s smiling like a fool, her eyes pinched shut.
“Why?” she sobs.
I shrug. “I wouldn’t be here without you, Faith. None of us would.” Placing my hands on her shoulders, I turn her to face the sign above the door.
“I love it.” Reiny smiles at me.
“I wanted that to be my last contribution to the space itself. It’s yours to design from here. I can help however you want, but the deed’s in your name—” I pull out the folder, handing it to her. “I bought it from Mateo for a great price; it’s yours. Your parents can’t touch it, now or ever.”
Faith stares in silence for so long, the group begins to shift uncomfortably, McCrae going so far as to wave a hand in front of her face. Faith finally looks back at me. “I can’t thank you enough.”
I smile at that. “Now you know how we feel.”
FIFTY-FIVE
RAFAEL SANTOS
March 30th, 2026
Walkinginto the house behind Valentina, I give her space. She seems somber, withdrawn, even, and I don’t understand why. The reveal went as good or better than expected, an overjoyed Faith bursting at the seams. The other girls were there, laughing and animated, adding to the excitement of the dream unfolding.
It’s everything V’s worked toward for months, so why’s she so sad?
“I can hear you thinking.” She sighs, pulling a sparkling water out of the fridge. She looks over her shoulder at me in silent question, and I nod.
“I just—what’s wrong?”
Her shoulders slump. “What do I do now? It felt good to have a purpose.”
My heartbeat thrums in my throat, a million ideas racing through my mind. “You have purpose here.”
She shrugs again. “I guess.”
I grab the water—noting how far she’s come from the girl who drove drunk because she didn’t care if she lived or died—and pull her toward me, caging her body against the counter. Setting the water down, I press a kiss to her jaw, the corner of her mouth, then her lips. I’m soft, my skin barely whispering against hers. She shivers, and I grip the counter to keep from gripping her.
“You are,” I whisper, pressing another featherlight kiss to her cheek. “We can do more around here, get more horses, adopt an entire pack of ugly dogs—whatever feels good. But you’re doing enough. More than enough. You’re healing yourself.” I kiss her other cheek. “You’re healing me, and you’re still going to help Faith a lot.”
She fights off a small smile, her eyes fluttering beneath my kisses. “You always have a way of making me feel better.”
I smirk, kissing the tip of her nose. “Good. Isn’t that what a gigolo’s supposed to do?”
She barks a laugh, pushing me back. I don’t go far, only enough to look down at her, my smirk growing. “You did not just call yourself a gigolo.”
“It’s what McCrae and Gus have started calling me. Honestly, I looked it up, and it’s not far off. You do pay for everything, I do tend to your needs and make you feel better, and you are older—” I bite my lip as her eyes widen further.
“You think you’re so funny.” She pushes at my chest again, but it’s weak, and I know she really doesn’t want me anywhere but where I am.
“I know I am.” I brush my lips against hers, feeling her smile beneath me. Her lips begin to move against mine, opening slowly, her tongue, warm and soft, running against my lips. It pushes against my mouth in question, and I open for her, sliding my hand to the back of her neck, tangling in her hair to kiss her deeper.
It’s an inferno between us, but I don’t rush the kiss. I try to devour her slowly, with pure, heated purpose. She groans butdoesn’t pick up the pace, both of us enjoying simply kissing each other, our tongues and lips dancing.
Her fingers find the hem of my shirt, her hands slipping underneath to greedily feel over my skin. She hums her approval, and I preen at her unquenched thirst for me, matched only by mine for her.
“Talk more later?” I pant against her lips. She nods, jumping up and wrapping her legs around my waist. Hands beneath her ass, I carry her toward our room, careful not to step on top of a yapping Willy.
“This dog’s always in the way,” I grumble.
