Page 68 of Off the Rails
He cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, he started doing weird stuff, like bringing me dirty magazines. I didn’t realize it was wrong because my entire life was wrong at that point. But then he came into my room when I was sleeping one night.”
“What did he do?”
“He held me down and masturbated on me. I wasn’t sure what he was doing at first, but I couldn’t move. I was too scared to fight. He said he’d kill my mother if I told anyone.”
“Did you?”
“Not for a long time. I told Adam when I was older.”
“You never told your mother?”
“No. I blamed her for it. I blamed myself too, because I hadn’t seen the warning signs. I thought I’d attracted him somehow. But I also thought my mom should have protected me. She shouldn’t have been so trusting of strangers.” He felt a sharp twist in his chest, remembering how angry he’d been. He’d bought a lock for his bedroom door, and he’d slept in his closet most nights. When Ian was in high school, he’d heard that the guy had died of a drug overdose. Only then had he told Adam what he’d done.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she whispered.
“Are you sorry you asked?”
“No. I want to know all about your life.”
He nodded his understanding because he felt the same way. Maybe they connected on a deeper level because of his experience. It didn’t really compare to the rape and beating she’d suffered, but it had made an impact on his life. He was more sympathetic to sexual assault victims. The ugly acts of other people didn’t define them.
She curled up beside him on the bed. It was a tight fit, but they managed. He put his arm around her and held her, enjoying the feel of her body next to his. He liked everything about her. The way she looked at the world, the way she looked at him. Her smile, her accent, the smell of her hair.
“I like your chin,” he said.
“My shin?”
“Chin.” He touched the smooth place underneath her chin. It was a perfect angle, with a slight depression in the middle. He traced his fingertip from there to the other triangle at the base of her throat. “This whole area is sexy as hell.”
She laughed, pushing his hand away. “That tickles,” she said in Spanish.
And then he knew: He was in love with her.
It hit him like a bolt of lightning. He’d been halfway there for almost four years. Since he’d reunited with her, he’d been right on the edge, ready to tip over.
He tipped.
He tipped hard.
Instead of basking in the glory of this realization, he panicked. His feelings shouldn’t have come as such a big surprise, considering how long he’d been working up to them, but he felt blindsided. He wasn’t ready to be inlovelove. Maria was supposed to be the one that got away. She was his fantasy woman, a red-hot affair. His first love, destined to fail.
This was a disaster.
He’d fucked up the sequence of events too. He’d fallen in love with herafterhe’d asked her to marry him. They were doomed.
He scrambled out of bed so fast he almost lost his footing. She gave him a strange look as he fumbled for his shoulder holster and put on his T-shirt. “We have to go,” he said, avoiding her gaze. He knew his emotions were written all over his face.
“What about breakfast?”
“Let’s skip it.”
“You can hardly walk,” she pointed out.
“We’ll hitchhike.”
She rose from the bed and gathered her clothes. Instead of retreating to the bathroom to change, she pulled the nightgown over her head and stood there in her full naked glory. Then she bent over to put on her panties, one leg at a time.
Well. This was what he deserved for strutting around with his dick out earlier, wasn’t it? He peeled his eyes off her luscious ass and focused on his boots. She was upset with him for not resting long enough. He’d been very ill yesterday, and he was still tired, but they weren’t safe here. They had to put more distance between them and El Limbo. He didn’t know how to do an Argentinian accent, either. He’d probably sound like Enrique Iglesias if he tried.
