Page 88 of On The Edge

“My family has a complicated dynamic.”

“Tell me about it,” she says and I start to refute her but she cuts me off. “I want to know, Cruz. Not to run and sell it to the tabloids, but because I want to understand you better.”

Words like that usually make a man like me suffocate, but for some reason they have me breathing easier. And yet . . . I hold back. “Like I told you before, it’s all online. Look it up.”

“So you’ll let me in your bed, in your world, but you won’t let me know you better.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It doesn’t have to be fair to be true.”

My sigh is exasperated. So is the way I look around the square. She gives me time to come to grips with this, with her . . . but after a few seconds, I answer her. “For as long as I can remember, the only focus I’ve ever had, ever been allowed to have, is to reclaim my family’s place in the sport. To bring back the nostalgia and prestige my grandfather had in Formula 1 and his father had in motorsports in general.”

“Why was it not your father’s job?”

My chuckle lacks amusement. “He had the heart but not the skill.”

“And that’s your fault?” Our eyes meet and I can see the cogs turning in that astute head of hers. I don’t know the whole of what she overheard in the suite that day, but I have a feeling she heard enough to put two and two together and realize it doesn’t equal five.

And this is why I keep people at arm’s length. For them not to see how I’m treated—because God forbid, we don’t sully the Navarro name. For them not to realize the way I allow my father to speak to me, to treat me, to pressure me, because it’s embarrassing enough coming to grips with it myself.

Why does a strong, secure man put up with it?

Because when it comes down to it, I am a Navarro. I am proud of that fact. Of who I am. And as long as I can remember, being a Navarro was more important than breathing.

But the older I get, the more the air I breathe feels more and more toxic.

“Not my fault, no,” I murmur, staring at the dark red of my wine. “But I’m the one who can reclaim the glory he lost from mi patriarca when he failed to live up to his potential. I am the golden son who can restore his pride.”

“That doesn’t make sense to me.”

Me either.

“Enough about this.” I wave a hand in indifference, suddenly closing down. I shared too much. Said too much.

“No. It matters.” She links her fingers through mine and holds tight when I try to pull away. “You matter.”

I hate the weird constriction of my chest. The sudden heat crawling up my neck.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is though.” Her words are barely audible and only serve to heighten those feelings. I’m saved by our pizza being delivered. By a small chat with the waiter. By serving her a piece of it.

I take a bite but when I look up, she’s staring at me and not eating.

“Look, it’s just pressure. That’s all it is.” I want to change the topic. Maybe she didn’t hear more than my father’s cruel words about her. Maybe I’m telling her too much. “The Navarro familial drive, our family dynamic . . . it’s fucked up in so many ways. So me not talking about it is my way of protecting you from it.” And my way of not looking like a spineless sack of shit to outsiders who don’t understand what it’s like in the Navarro bubble.

“Well, maybe one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me.”

“I do trust you.” And isn’t that part of it? The trust? It scares the shit out of me that I do. That I want to explain to her about my father’s bitter jealousy and my mother’s abandonment. Of my grandfather I admire and his tough love that I respect. Of my sister being the only one who understands me and even then, she doesn’t exactly. “This is more than I’ve ever given anyone of myself.”

Maddix leans over and presses the tenderest kiss to my cheek, letting her lips linger for a beat. “For what it’s worth, Cruz, I trust you too.” She leans back, her smile soft. “Thank you for today. For this. For being my friend in all of this when you could resent me for this whole thing.”

Never.

The word dances through my head but dies on my tongue.

Resent her for this?