Page 105 of Shadow Dance

We’re sitting on his porch now, sharing the flan we got from Tita’s for dessert. We were so full, but the owner insisted on sending us homewith something sweet. I’m glad she did. I just want to talk to Cruz until the sun goes down, and then for a little longer after that. It’s hard acting like his presence isn’t my entire world right now, like I haven’t been agonizing over him since the night we were separated.

It’s why I cried when I saw him earlier. All of the fears I’d had concerning his well-being and whether or not I’d ever see him came to a head and then dissolved in a flood of tears. I didn’t care that my brother and Evie were right there, watching me lose my shit. Cruz looked a little different, sure, but he held me like he used to. And he still smelled the same, like cinnamon gum and freshly laundered clothing with a hint of the fuckboy cologne I’d always secretly loved.

I stare at Cruz now, watching as he sets his plastic fork down and rubs his belly with a groan. “I should probably walk that off, but I’m too lazy.”

“That was by far the best flan I’ve ever had,” I say, putting my fork beside his. “Do you still drink cafecito?”

“Does the sun rise in the east?” he teases. Our eyes meet, making my stomach flip. “Every day. I’ll make it for you.”

I might have known Cruz by a different name, but he’s still the guy I love. And I might have had my doubts when he told me he was a cop that day in the woods, but now I know that my feelings were true. I can trust them, because I can trust him.

“So, you’re really done with the cop stuff, huh?” I ask, remembering a comment he made earlier about retirement.

“Oh, yeah. It’s not uncommon for officers who go deep undercover, especially for as long as I did, to go on hiatus or retire altogether,” he says. “And my injuries were pretty bad. They would’ve made me take a break anyway.”

“That makes sense,” I say hoarsely, trying not to think about what he looked like the last time I saw him. It’s hard, though. The image is burned into my brain and comes back to me at the worst times.

He must see this on my face because he grabs my hand and gives it a little shake. “It’s okay. It’s in the past.”

“What exactly were your injuries?”

“I had a broken nose and a small fracture in my clavicle from where the bullet nicked it,” Cruz says, touching his collarbone. “I’m lucky because it didn’t shatter the whole bone or hit my lung, but there wasplenty of damage to the muscle tissue. Still hurts every once in a while.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about how you looked that night,” I say, unable to stop the shudder that runs through my body. “I thought … I thought he’d killed you.”

“He almost did,” he says. “You saved my life.”

“You saved my life,” I echo, blinking away tears. This should be a happy day, so why can’t I stop crying?

Cruz tugs my hand until I get up, and then he brings me onto his lap. Everything inside me settles. I’m exactly where I need to be. But my heart flutters, too, because my body remembers his body and the way we felt together.

“And what about you? I know he broke this,” he says, tracing the backs of his fingers over my cheekbone.

I don’t ask how he knows; he probably had access to all kinds of info during the trials. Nodding, I rest my arm along the back of his chair. “I’d never felt pain like that in all my life. It still feels a little numb from time to time, but that seems to be fading now.”

We’re quiet for a while, watching cars pass on the street. It’s late afternoon now, and the sun is starting to deepen all the colors around us. “Do you think you’ll stay down here for good?” I ask, giving in to the urge to touch his hair. The short hair was shocking at first, but I like it. It’s sexy.

“I don’t know yet.” He rubs his hand up and down my back, almost absently. “I love it, but there are things I miss about the States.”

“About Brooklyn?”

He cracks a smile. “Yeah.”

“I hope you can go back one day,” I say. “Because there’s really no place like home.”

Cruz tilts his head, considering my words. “I don’t know. I used to think home was a fixed place, like an address you could pin on a map. But …”

I pull back slightly to look into his eyes. They’re the deep brown of melted chocolate today, warm and inviting.

“I think home is where the people you love are. Or where you’re happiest.”

“Or both,” I suggest, feeling a flutter of hope in my chest.

Heleans in and kisses me, soft and lingering. I’ve been waiting for him to do that, and it’s just as good as I remember. When he pulls away, there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes my heart skip. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” I kiss him back long and slow, showing him how much I’ve missed him.

We have some catching up to do.

---