Page 10 of A Dish Best Served Hot

“Are you actually going to say anything or do you plan to spend your two minutes staring at me?”

She expected the attitude to elicit an equally antagonistic response from Saint. What she did not expect was for him to reach out and pull her into his arms. The smell of freshly cut wood and sweat got even stronger, and Lola felt like she was wrapped up in the coils of an anaconda, surrounded by solid muscle.

“Oh my god, Lola,” he whispered. He tightened his hold on her to the point that she felt like a stress toy in the hand of a bodybuilder. He gave a tiny shiver and for some odd reason Lola felt her eyes begin to water.

She didn’t know what was going on, but Saint’s obvious emotion over seeing her was affecting her too. “Saint,” she breathed.

At the sound of her voice he pulled back, but only far enough to take her face in his hands. His deep brown eyes bounced around her face like they couldn’t decide what to focus on. “I never thought. I didn’t believe. You’re safe. You’re here.”

Before Lola could inquire about that “safe” bit, Saint lowered his head and fused their mouths together.

And just like that, Lola was seventeen again. She was standing in the arms of the boy she loved, and he was kissing her with a desperation that reflected her own. As much as she wanted to deny it, as much as they both pretended it wasn’t, their love was ending and they were saying goodbye.

At the thought, Lola wrenched herself away, pushing against Saint’s chest. “What the hell? Have you never heard of asking for consent before kissing someone?”

“I’m sorry,” Saint panted. He scrubbed his palms over his face. “I saw you and I just couldn’t believe you were here.” He froze for a second then dropped his hands. The shocked disbelief was gone from his face and in its place was anger.

Lola frowned. What did he have to be angry about?

“What the fuck, Lola?” he asked.

“What?”

“You disappeared and no one knew where you were. With everything going on with your dad and brother...” He trailed off, but quickly found more to say. “Everyone thought the worst, and now you show up as if it’s nothing? As if you just went to run a quick errand.”

Lola blinked at him because she honestly had no words.

Lola was the daughter of Rafael León, the ruthless ex-leader of Los Insurrectos. When he’d finally gone to prison, along with her brother, it had meant that she was no longer protected by his name or her brother’s infamous fists. She’d become a target. The situation had been dire enough for her mother to come out of hiding, sneak into Benny’s house in the middle of the night, and spirit Lola out of Chicago. They’d bounced around the country for a week before finally feeling like it was safe enough to make their way to her mother’s safe haven in San Diego.

“Do you have any idea what I went through, trying to complete basic training while thinking you could’ve been hurt...or gone?”

Was he serious with this shit? “I didn’t leave for fun, Saint. I was in danger.”

“I know that. But how could you just leave without telling anyone?”

Lola crossed her arms over her chest. “Benny knew where I was.”

“Well, I didn’t. For the last seventeen years all I’ve had are rumors.”

“But the letter,” she said.

“What letter?”

“The one I sent you.”

“Oh right. Now you sent me a letter.”

Lola felt her temper rising. “Don’t you dare call me a liar. I sent you a letter. I told you that my mom had come for me and—” She stopped. The letter had also said that she wouldn’t contact him anymore, that she needed to move on and start a new life, but she didn’t think this was the moment to bring that up.

Saint looked dumbfounded and Lola felt the same. Could it be that he really hadn’t gotten her letter? How was that even possible? It had been 2005 not 1805. It wasn’t like letters were being delivered via mail coach. Then again, her Amazon package had gotten lost in transit just two days ago.

They stared at each other in silence as the ramifications of their discovery settled between them. So much damage caused by the disappearance of one fucking letter.

The door to the closet swung open and Papo Vega stood there. “¿Qué demonios hacen encerrados aquí?”

What were they doing locked in the closet? Oh nothing. Just having their freaking minds blown.

“Abuelo, we need a minute,” Saint said.

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