Page 103 of Unspoken Truths

I meant what I said. How long she stayed awake didn’t matter. I simply wanted to give her something good to fall asleep to.

I’m getting drowsy by the second movie, playing with Rachelle’s hair when Ignacio startles me by popping his head in at the entrance of the curtained tent. Before he appeared, I was enjoying watching the stars just as much as the movie.

“You’re like a damn ghost,” I hiss, the blood thundering in my ears. “I’m falling asleep, Rachelle is comfortable, and I don’t want to move.”

“It’s important,” he sighs. “Our dads found the guys who are responsible for trying to mow you down. I think you and Rachelle need to hear this.”

“I was trying to…” Huffing out a sigh, I realize I’m being ridiculous as I feel heat behind my eyes. There’s no room for tears in my life, loving Rachelle can’t make me weak.

Yes, I know it’s only been a few months, but I’m absolutely in love with this girl. While her fire is what makes her stand out, I think it’s her vulnerability that pulled me into her web. She keeps swinging, yet she’s willing to let me see some of the pieces of her she feels are broken beyond repair.

“Rachelle,” I whisper, my fingers running through her hair again. I unwound her braid while she was sleeping to allow me to play with it, so it’s wild and twisted.

“Wait, what were you saying that you were trying to do?” Ignacio asks, crawling further into the tent.

His dark hair is freshly washed, and he’s wearing different clothes. I wonder if he had to shower due to the bloodshed from the interrogations, though I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’m worried Rachelle will take one look at the seedier parts of our lives and run.

Moment of truth to see if she can handle this.

“Doesn’t matter now,” I murmur as she begins to stir. “Hey, beautiful. We have to go see Mr. Emil and my dad.”

“What happened?” she asks, her voice cracking and full of sleepiness.

I know I’m not imagining things as Ignacio’s eyes soften slightly for her.

“They think we should hear what they discovered from their interrogation,” I say carefully.

Ignacio purses his lips, wiggling further into our bed of blankets.

“It’s a little more than that,” he says. “I’m going to need you to do whatever you need to do to stay calm without hurting yourself, okay? The compartmentalizing thing you do? Use it tonight.”

Rachelle sits up, rubbing her eyes before focusing on him.

“That sounds really bad,” she says. “Your hair is wet. I don’t know why, but I feel like I need to know why.”

“My dad is doing this thing where he gives me really disgusting tasks to do when he’s unhappy with me,” he grumbles. “I got blood in my hair, and he doesn’t want me to walk through the house looking like a horror show.”

“Okay then,” Rachelle mutters. “I was really comfortable.”

“If you can stomach it after this and you’re a good girl, I’ll make you hot chocolate. I know you love it,” Nacio says.

“As long as we can agree that I’m in no wayyour‘good girl,’ then I think I can live with that agreement,” she says.

“You really should join the debate team next year,” he says, shaking his head as he crawls back out.

“This isn’t going to be pretty,” I sigh.

“I didn’t think it would be,” she says. “If I don’t tell you later, this was a really great first date.”

My heart cramps as she crawls out of the tent and I follow her. This girl. She’s so appreciative of my efforts, despite the interruption.

Slipping on our shoes, we walk to the fence and walk into the front yard without going through the house. There’s no reason to wake up Julia if we don’t need to. Mr. Emil’s SUV is in the driveway, and Nacio gets into the driver seat.

I remember Mr. Emil said he was going to drive, but didn’t think he’d be taking the family vehicle. There’s a hint of irony to all of this, and I feel a little out of it since I was falling asleep earlier. Yawning, I shake my head as I get into the vehicle with Rachelle.

The drive is quiet, and Ignacio is intently trying to keep from speaking as well. I feel like he’s working on his father’s orders, which makes this all so much worse.

“What did he mean about compartmentalizing things?” I ask Rachelle quietly.

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