Page 19 of Loco

It felt domesticated in a way I hadn’t expected. Comfortable. Easy. And that scared the hell out of me. Because I had drawers in his dresser now, as well as closet space, and now it felt like I lived here.

I turned onto my side, my fingers curling into the sheets, my chest tightening with something I couldn’t quite name. Roque wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to let me in—not like this, not in ways that felt too deep, too real. And yet, every time I woke up in his bed, it felt more and more like I belonged here.

I exhaled slowly, trying to push the thought away. But my mind had already wandered somewhere else—somewhere I hated going.

Yesterday. The shower.

Heat crept up my neck as the memory rushed back, vivid and unavoidable. The steam curling around me, the sharp sound of my breath catching when I turned and found him standing there. His gaze dragging over my bare skin, dark and unreadable.

I knew that look. Had seen it plenty of times before. But this time, it had felt different. More intense. More restrained, like he was fighting something.

And then—God, the embarrassment. Me, standing there, clutching that stupid, translucent shower curtain like it could actually do something. The way his lips had parted, the slight clench of his jaw before he’d spun on his heel and left without a word.

I squeezed my eyes shut now, trying to shake it off. But the real problem wasn’t the way he’d looked at me. It wasn’t the heat in his gaze or how my stomach had twisted at the sight.

It wasn’t just how he looked at me or how I felt when I was around him—it was something worse. My old neighbor.

I’d seen Roque going into her house a few times now, and even though I told myself it didn’t matter, that it shouldn’t matter, it did. It cut deeper than I wanted to admit, a quiet ache I couldn’t ignore. But the worst part wasn’t just seeing it happen—it was how he looked at me afterward, like he knew I saw, like he wasn’t even trying to hide it, like he was waiting for me to say something.

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as I lay there, staring into the darkness, my chest aching with something sharp and unfamiliar. Should I ask? Did I even want to know the answer?

Before I could spiral any further, Roque shifted beside me, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me back against him without even waking. I froze, my pulse jumping as his slow, steady breathing filled the quiet space between us. His warmth seeped into me, grounding me, making it impossible to ignore how natural this felt.

Before, he’d never held me like this. Before, it had only ever been sex—something raw, physical, and over as soon as it ended. But now, wrapped up in him like this, it felt different, like something was shifting between us in a way I didn’t understand.

And I had no idea what to do with that.

Chapter 7

Sayla

Roque pulled on his thick jacket, zipped it up to his throat, and stomped his boots down for extra warmth before grabbing the ladder leaning against the house.

“The snow’s getting too damn heavy,” he muttered, securing the base before starting his climb. “Roof’s not meant to hold that much weight.”

I watched him disappear over the edge, his boots crunching through the thick layer above me. A few moments later, a sharp thud echoed through the air as he started shoving the snow off in chunks.

As I leaned against the doorframe, arms wrapped around me for warmth, my gaze drifted toward my house across the road.

The roof was buried.

The sheer weight of the snow pressing down on it had to be ridiculous. Given the luck I’d had lately, it’d be just right for it to finally give in and collapse, crushing my ceiling and adding evenmore work to the already never-ending list of disasters my house had thrown at me.

I sighed, shaking my head at the thought.

Before I could dwell too much on it, Roque’s voice rang out from above.

“Timber!”

I barely had time to register what he’d said before a massive pile of snow tumbled down from the roof, smacking against my legs and pinning me to the spot. The icy weight pressed in instantly, shocking me with how heavy it was.

“Goddammit, Roque!” I yelped, trying to kick my way free, but it was no use. My boots were completely buried, and my jeans were already soaked through.

A deep, familiar laugh came from the roof. “I told you to move.”

I glared up at him, squinting against the bright white sky. “You did not tell me to move. You yelled timber like this was a goddamn lumberjack competition!”

He snorted. “Same thing.”

---