His expression shifted. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t. I saw what you did.”
“Whatever she sent you has to be edited. Anyone can fake anything nowadays. I don’t trust it.”
“What about the voice memo on that burner phone?”
“You went through my phone?”
“Mateo, your career was coming along.”
“Coming along? I was rotting on that bench. Do you know what it’s like watching these young niggas getting opportunities I never got?”
“Are you admitting you did something?”
“No. I’m not. Things just went too far!”
“Mateo, you could be charged with criminal assault.”
“What are you going to do? Turn in your own husband? Have Mason grow up with his dad in jail? Break up our family? You better be careful about your next move, Danica.”
His threat sent a chill down my spine, and I thought about what Remi said.“You’ll be next if you get in his way.”
“So, you’re threatening me now?”
My comment hung in the air, and my throat tightened.
“You sound crazy. Next, you’ll be acting like those motherfuckers you know that’s how rumors get started.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what the fuck are you saying, Dani?”
Before I knew it, Mateo’s fist connected with the wall. There was a sickening crunch of the drywall behind me. I stared at the dent—a jagged dent in our once perfectly painted wall.
“Shit,” he whispered.
I saw bright red blood beads along his knuckles.
“Let me see your hand,” I said, reaching for Mateo.
Mateo looked like he wanted to pull away, but he was frozen in place. Probably somewhere between defiance and shame. How did we get here?
“I’m sorry. Dani, you know I would never—I didn’t mean to.”
“I know. We need to ice this.”
Mateo teared up. “The pressure… Everyone is watching, waiting for me to fail… to prove I don’t deserve a spot on the team, and now you?—”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“I’m so fucking sorry. I would never—I can’t lose this. I worked too hard.”
“I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I just wanted you to talk to me.”
“We’ll talk later when we’re both calm.”
“I’ll fix the drywall this weekend,” he commented.