AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Then let me take you home tonight. Let me wake up with you in my arms tomorrow.”
“Yes.” With the tip of two fingers, she pushes me back and makes the move to slip back into my car, but I press the key fob, locking the door. Her gaze is questioning, but instead of voicing them, she simply places her hand in mine and waits. “Ready when you are.”
“Thank you.” No further words are exchanged as I pull us inside and head straight toward the elevator. I can feel her stare, wondering why I’m pressing the number two floors down from hers as we ascend, and then more so when it dings a minute later when reaching our destination.
She’s compliant, though. Putting things together without any signs of outward rage.
And when I stop at the number that reads 1522 down the hall and to the left of the elevator, the hand not holding mine smacks my arm. “Why doesn’t this surprise me.”
Not a question, and I don’t treat it as such either. Instead, I smile down at her. “Because you believe in fate as much as I do.”
Cheeky little criminal arches a brow, lip twitching. “Do I? Or are you just my stalker?”
“Yes, you—” I’m cut off by a phone ringing inside my pocket, and I freeze. No one in this country knows this number, and those who do in Colombia would only use it if something went wrong.
“Javi, are you okay?”
“Take my keys and make yourself comfortable. I need to take this.” Whatever she sees in my face has Mariah nodding and letting us in, not mentioning or questioning my sudden change in demeanor. “I’ll be right back.”
There’s a balcony across the living room, and I don’t pause my steps until the door is wide open and I’m leaning against the veranda, hitting the redial button. It rings twice and I hear the commotion, the yells in the background of anger and pain.
“Hola? Javier?” I’ve never heard my cousin sound anything but in control, but right now, he’s angry—hurting—and dread fills my bones.
“Alejandro, what’s going—”
“Primo, I need you back on a plane tonight. Your mom—”
“What happened?” I hiss through clenched teeth, my grip so tight on the plastic in my hand it groans. “Just spit it out.”
“I’m sorry.” I can just make out the words my aunt screams, and my world crumbles. Blinding pain overtakes my chest and the phone slips, landing on the floor a second before I feel Mariah wrap her warm arms around me. Holding me as the words I heard set in.
“Talk to me. What’s wrong, baby?” Any other day the term of endearment would’ve made me smile—call out the beauty beside me—but I don’t. Can’t.
Instead, I repeat the four words that help her understand.
“My mother’s been shot.”
***
19
HE’S BEEN GONE seventy-two hours, and I miss him. It’s a foreign feeling, this urgency that pushes me out of bed at eight a.m. on a Sunday and toward my closet with only one goal in mind...
Go to him.
Javier needs me. I know he does.
I can feel it. This oppressive force sitting atop my chest that demands I comply and follow my heart.
It’s been there since yesterday’s phone call. His news broke my heart. His sadness nearly bowled me over as the longing to hold him grew with each hurt-filled word out of his mouth.
“Javi, baby? How are you? How’s your—”
“She passed early this morning of complications from a blood clot in her lungs.” His words are monotone, lifeless, and tears prick at my eyes. I can feel his pain as if it were my own. “She’s resting now, Muñeca, and that’s all that matters. I’m just sad she never got to meet you and love…” Javier pauses, and I can hear the shuddering breath escape him, the near desperate sigh he allows to slip through. “I’ll call you later. We’re heading to the funeral home now and then meeting with—”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“I miss you, beautiful.”
