Page 152 of Stealth Mission

“I’m gonna try.”

I open my eyes and find Marianna awake, looking at me. I don’t even remember hanging up with Scout. I fall to the floor beside the bed onto my knees, burying my face against her neck.

She whispers, “You’re here.”

“You’re going to have a hard time getting rid of me.”

She shivers and wraps her arms around my neck. Unable to fight the urge to hold her any longer, I climb onto the bed and pull her against me.

I’m hanging by a thread. All of the fear and uncertainty, hours of not knowing, hours of wishing I could take her pain away are barely contained by a dam that’s got a serious fucking crack in it.

Voice shaking, she speaks against my shoulder. “I’m nothing now. I have nothing. Not even a place to live. I can’t have children. I don’t know how to do anything else but grow agave.”

The soft ache in her words shatters me into a million jagged pieces.

Fucking hell. Can I ease her pain? An all new fear explodes to life inside my gut.

Her voice grows hard. “I’m so angry.”

“It’s okay to be angry. I’m right there with you.”

I’ve spent so much of my life angry, it’s a part of the fabric of who I am. But I’d never want that for her.

She’s very still for a long time.

Stroking her hair, I analyze the hot glowing sensation in the middle of my chest. It’s getting bigger, despite the fear that’s tightening my stomach with its icy tendrils.

I search for my voice. “I know this is going to sound cliche´ as fuck, but home is where the heart is. You don’t know my story. Don’t know that I was living under a tarp behind a garage when I was thirteen. I didn’t have anything, but someone…”

The words stick in my throat and she presses a kiss against my jaw. “I’m so, so sorry.”

A tremor runs through me.

God, that felt good.

I exhale hard with a shake in my breath, looking toward the ceiling, I let go. I open the part of me I swore to never show another person. “I’ve been angry for so long.”

Careful, handling me like I’m made of glass, her fingers rub a smooth circle over my chest. “Now I know why.”

It’s a long time before I can speak again. She holds me so damned tight. It takes effort to finally choke out the words. “But someone refused to give up on me.”

“You deserve love, Evan.”

I kiss her temple. “You deserve everything you want. I don’t own an agave farm, but I swear to god, I’ll get you one if that’s what you want. I’ve never grown a thing in my life, but I can learn. Seeing you happy is the only thing that matters.”

She sniffles. “You’re too much.”

“No. You deserve it all. Plus I can rebuild a tractor with my eyes closed.”

She pulls back. The pretty golden brown color of her eyes is brightened by the sheen on her lashes. “How did you learn to work on farm equipment?”

“The garage was a tractor repair place and when the man that owned it found me, he dragged me to his house and refused to let me leave. I worked there until I turned eighteen.”

My heart softens at the memory of how he looked at me that day and so many days after. Not with pity, with determination.

“It was good for me. And working there was my way of paying him back for giving me a life.”

She smiles softly, forcing a tear out of her eye. It trails across the dark smudges of paint still on her skin. I kiss her jaw, catching the tear with my tongue.

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