Page 101 of The Right Garza
I only understand maybe half what he just said. Though at the pace at which he spoke, taking great care to choose his words wisely, it feels like a safe, dumb-downed version of what theyreallydo. And even so, just a fraction.
Taking my face in his hands, he stares into my eyes and tells me, “I’ve witnesseda lotof terrible things over the years... But I promise you, I’ve never killed anyone. Ever. And unless someone fucks withyou, Mom, or Tillie, then nor will I ever. I’ve got a mean streak at times, yeah, but I’m notanythinglike my soulless, psychotic cousins.”
I believe you.
Closing my eyes, I press my face to his chest again. “I can’t believe you all are related to them.”
“Neither can we.” He rests his chin on top of my head. “Don’t worry. Our familial ties aren’t common knowledge. And those who do know have been made to believe there’s bad blood between us—we’ve made sure of it. So none of their shit ever touches us.”
Well, that makes me feel better at least. Considering I’ve decided I want to spend my life with this man. Have his babies. Be his and only his.
After a stretch of silence, I ask, “What was that reparation bit all about?”
He groans at this, but he should have known I’d ask at some point. “Lorenzo called and told me Slim hit you.”
“So?”
“What do you mean ‘so’?” Anger edges into his voice. “He kidnapped you, drugged you, and to top of it had the gall to put his fucking hands on you? I said I’m not a killer, Lexi, I didn’t say I’m a fucking saint. Wasn’t gonna let that go. He had a choice: lose all the fingers on the hand he hit you with or pay 100k for each of them.”
Eyes snapping open, I jerk my head up to look at him. “He gave you half a million dollars?”
Trent shakes his head. “He gaveyouhalf a million dollars.”
Oh. My. God.
“How doesn’t threatening to cut someone’s fingers off makes you any different?”
“What did I just say, Lexi? My psycho doesn’t come out to play unless anyone fucks with…?”
Exhaling a defeated breath, I say, “Monica, Tillie, or me.”
All of this is so…much. The last couple of hours feels like dream. But it’s not. I’m here in the flesh. I’ve never known this side of the Garzas. Never seen this side ofhim. And they might not be as bad as the Castellos, but if they have Castello blood in them, how far from the edge of darkness can they be?
Trent releases me to get the loofah and body wash, then he begins to bathe me. Slow and gentle, almost caressingly. I close my eyes andbreathe,because it is everything I didn’t know I needed. Yet, somehow,hedid.
And it’s because of this, because he can make me feel like this—safe, appreciated, cared for,loved—why I’m willing to overlook his flaws. I’m uncomfortable with his relation to the Castellos, and I’m worried about what level of darkness lives within him, but none of it is enough to change how I feel about him or what I want from him.
I love him.
The boy next door who used to get under my skin like no one else. The Garza who, even though he’d irritated me to no end, I’d spent more time at his side, in his presence, than any of the others. I think…I think I’ve loved him all this time and just didn’t know it.
We’ve juststepped out of the shower, Trent wrapping a towel around me, when the doorbell echoes downstairs.
“Be right back,” he murmurs, leaving a kiss on my forehead.
I towel off and pad to the bedroom. Although it’s been less than a week since I’ve been here, in this room, clinging to him and gasping his name, it feels like eons ago. Now, however, it feels different. Not like I’m just sleeping over at his place. But…likehome. Like where I’m supposed to be.Where I belong. The familiarity of it envelopes me and offers me warmth and comfort.
I’m seated at the end of the bed moisturizing my skin with body oil when Trent returns with a tray of food.
“Scratch’s wife sent over breakfast,” he says.
As he deposits the tray in the little nook of the room with two armchairs and a small table, I frown and ask, “Who?”
“Oh, Scratch’s the one who rode with True. He heads our Denver branch,” he says as he walks over to me. “He flew in to help. They’re staying at over True’s, and his wife…well, she can’t help being a host, even when she’s the guest.”
“That’s nice of her.”
He pries the body oil from my hand and takes over, squeezing oil into his palm before massaging it into my skin.
