Page 33 of Javier

“I think you are.”

“You didn’t know my father.” I tilted up my head and met his eyes. “He was a dick with a capital ‘D.’”

“Oh, I’ve heard.” He tightened his hold on me and perused the cloudy night. “The thing is, sometimes we love assholes.”

“What?” I stared up at him.

“What I said. I’ve never told this to anyone but…” He hesitated before he went on. “My dad used to hit my mom. I beat the son of a bitch to a pulp when I was thirteen. After that, he never came back to bother us. Still, when I heard he died, I was kind of sad. Madandsad. There’s a reason those two words rhyme.”

I spotted the pain in his eyes and sensed the scars that tortured him so. He understood exactly how I felt. It must’ve taken him some effort to share that tidbit with me. He wasn’t just hot as sin. He had heart. And soul.

I sank deeper into his form. The silence stretched between us, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable. He waited for me to right myself. After a while, I faced off with my truths.

“Maybe I’m crying because he’s dead,” I admitted aloud. “Because even if he was a dick, he was my father.”

“Amen to that.” He gave me another shoulder squeeze.

“I’m also sad for all the pain and sorrow I’ve witnessed inthe last three years.” I sat up, snatched off my ponytail and let my hair hang loose. “The world can be such a cruel place for so many people.”

“For a great majority,” he agreed. “The poor, the sick, the powerless.”

I wiped my tears and lifted my face up to the sky. “I really wish it was different.”

“Yeah.” His long exhale enveloped me in the scent of him. “Me, too.”

“I thought that—”

“That what?”

“That coming out here and working with the order would help, you know, with the guilt.”

He drew his eyebrows together. “What guilt?”

“My father wasn’t a nice man,” I said. “He hurt a lot of people with his greed.”

“Let me guess.” He took a deep breath. “You thought that if you came out here to help people in need this would somehow make up for his behavior and maybe even free you from the blame you felt over his greed?”

“Something like that,” I said. “How did you know?”

“We all have shit to atone for.” His sigh about broke my heart. “But you’re not responsible for your father’s actions. You can’t make up for other people’s mistakes.”

“I know that now, but it was worth a try.” I managed a little shrug. “I don’t regret my time here. I do hate that I had to split up from my sisters. I’m so scared for Cece and Affie. Javi, what if they’re dead?” My heart ached as though it had split in two. “What if they’re being chased right now by beasts like the ones that attacked us?”

“I get you’re worried about your sisters, but remember, they’re as well-hidden as you were. We’ll find them before the assassins do.”

“I hope so,” I said. “On the other hand, we’ll never get back the time we spent apart.”

“I reckon it’s real painful to be cut off from the people you love.” His fingers slid through my hair, stoking memories of my dreams, where he’d caressed me just so. “It’s okay to cry when your family is torn apart and a bad guy dies. I hope someone will cry for me when I go.”

“Javi?” I wiped the tears from my eyes and studied the grief etching his features. “You’re not a bad guy.”

“Yeah. I am.” He huffed resignedly. “I fight for a living. I’ve failed people that trusted me. I kill when I have to.”

“You’re a soldier,” I reminded him. “Sometimes you have to make hard decisions, but you make lots of good ones, too. You came here. To get me. You rescued us from the mercs. You helped Sisters Elsa and Janet. You carried Sister Elsa for a long time on your back today.”

He offered a cynical snort. “You may have had something to do with that.”

“But you did it, not me.” I paused and thought of something. “Are you… alone now?”

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