Page 65 of Hidden By His Side

Ramiro looked tense when they got in the car, leaving late instead of early like he’d offered. He’d stayed on the phone with Ash for a long time.

He sat behind the steering wheel, staring through the windshield. Summer was fine waiting. His overthinking face was as compelling as his I-want-to-take-care-of-everything-for-her face.

The worry wrinkles on his forehead made her want to stretch toward him and smooth them out, but she stayed on her side of the car, her hands in her lap.

“Something’s come up that I need to handle tonight,” he said.

“Okay. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine alone.” Alone felt lonelier than being near him without really having him, but she wouldn’t ever complain.

His jaw grew tighter, the muscle there beginningto throb.

“I really will be okay.” Sometimes he still treated her like that helpless kid she’d been on the bridge.

“It’s Friday.”

She had no idea why the day mattered to him. He must have been worrying about her needing him all weekend. Her fingers twisted together.

Ramiro turned his body toward her. She didn’t lift her head to look at him, but her awareness was focused on him. The BMW was roomier than you’d expect inside, but Ramiro still took up all the air and space.

“I was thinking you might want to visit your friends at the apartment.”

Oh. Summer stared at her aching fingers. She started hanging out with her neighbors because it made Ramiro happy. At first, their laughter and chatter had been nice. She’d fooled herself into thinking they liked her.

It took her a few months to realize they didn’t remember anything she’d told them unless she reminded them. They liked that she hung on to their words and brought them the alcohol they liked and cleaned up their place a little afterward; they didn’t like her.

Still, Ramiro asked her about them every Monday, and the way he smiled when she told him she’d spent time with friends had been the best reward.

“I can go over there,” she agreed. Spending time with the women would make him feel better, and that was reason enough to do it.

His rough fingers gripped her chin, lifting and turning her head so she looked at him. “But do you want to go, Summer?”

She swallowed, her skin tingling under his fingers. “If it makes you—”

Ramiro pinched a little, stemming the words. “This isn’t about me. I asked you what you wanted to do.” He sighed, moving his hand to brush her hair away from her face before letting it drop to the gearshift. “Do you want to spend time with your friends? Or would you rather I take you home?”

Every time he called it home, her chest twinged.

He would worry about her if she was home alone. “I—”

“This can’t be like last time,” he said, making her swallow her words. “You spent the night with your boyfriend when you guys were having problems. You thought I wanted you there, but I never wanted you with that prick.” Ramiro’s nose flared, and he looked out the windshield, his cheek flexing again. “You’re safe alone in my house,” he continued. “Either choice you make here would make me happy. What would make you happy?”

She was happiest by his side. Anywhere else? The word happy didn’t apply.

Summer chewed on her lip, her fingers gripping each other harder as her stomach swirled. Which would be better? Alone with her thoughts? Or taking care of the women like she normally did?

They’d expect her, she realized. They didn’t know she’d moved. Summer should go spend time with them. She could at least give them closure and maybe make them a little glad she’dbeen around as long as she had. She could listen to them and clean up. If she brought them their favorite alcohol, maybe—

She bit her cheek, anxiety flaring. She hadn’t picked up their favorite bottle, but if she went without it, would they get mad at her?

Ramiro’s hand closed around her twisting fingers. “Talk to me, Summer.”

“I normally bring something,” she blurted out. “When I go to see them.” Her cheek ached. She deserved it. Here she was, hoping Ramiro would fix things for her again.

He glanced at the clock on the dash. “We have time. Where do you need to go?”

“Oh, if you drop me off at the apartment complex, I can walk—”

His grunt shut her up. She remembered the last time she’d heard it. He’d been inside her then. Her body shifted, her thighs pressing together.

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