Page 101 of Desperate Actions

“Aella, I have known you since you were in diapers.” She winks, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “You used to call me Ellie, and I insist you still do.”

I blush, nodding.

“Okay, Ellie.”

I feel warm inside, this fuzzy, unfamiliar sense of belonging curling in my chest.

“So, tell us about Vegas, baby,” my mother teases as we follow Ellie into the kitchen to help with the rest of the meal.

In the dining room, I can hear Sammy, my father, Andres, and Mr. Ramirez talking business. Something about markets, investments, mining.

I should probably pay attention, but my brain is too full of nerves.

Because I know my mother well enough to know this conversation is about to turn into an interrogation.

“What about it?” I shrug, keeping my tone neutral. “I mean, Vegas is Vegas.”

“Yes, but where did you do it?”

I freeze.

Because Jesus Christ—she doesn’t mean it like that.

But my mind?

It goes there.

Right to Sammy’s hands on my body, his mouth on my skin, his filthy words wrecking me inside and out.

For one mortifying second, I wonder if my mother can read the thought right off my burning face.

“Uh, it was just a chapel by the hotel,” I manage, voice weak.

Ellie pauses, turns to me with tears shimmering in her hazel eyes, eyes that look so much like her son’s.

And then she asks it.

The one question I wasn’t prepared for.

“Do you love him, Aella?”

Something curls tight inside my chest.

Not fear.

Not doubt.

But the sheer weight of the truth pressing against my ribs, against my throat, until it spills out before I can even think to stop it.

“I do.”

My voice doesn’t waver.

“I’ve loved him forever.”

Ellie lets out a breath, and my mother sniffs, swiping at her eyes.

I didn’t mean to make them cry.

---