Page 71 of Something Tangled Something True
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A few seconds pass before the photo loads, shocking me into near silence as I stare down at a photo of Mayte holding a gun.
When the hell did you get a GUN?! You were in the fucking Peace Corps for two years after I went away for college!
I have a kid now, Lols. I have a safe for it, and Isabela will never get her hands on it…but this creepy shit is ramping up, and I’m not taking my chances. I refuse to wind up in the headlines or on the cover of a true crime podcast. I listen to them, but I don’t want to live it!
My heart sinks in my chest. It’s my fault we’re in this mess inthe first place. If I’d never come back, these people Ilovewould all be safe.
Ryder finally stops his pacing and slumps into the seat beside me, the couch sagging under his weight.
“The cameras are no help. Whoever’s responsible for this must’ve hacked into the cameras through the Wi-Fi because the footage stops just before we received the text messages and restarts shortly after.” He rubs at the spot between his brows and meets my eyes. “I’m sorry, Lols. I don’t know what to do at this point, but we’ll come up with something.”
“Let’s head to bed, I guess. Whoever it is, they’re probably gone now. No use staying up all night worrying about it.”
He stands, taking my hand to pull me up with him. “Stay with me tonight?”
I reach up on my tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll stay with you forever, Ry.” I can’t take back the words or make myself regret them once they’re out, but I can add this to the list of things my therapist and I should work on: not jumping into things just to soothe him.
He rubs his thumb over the top of my cheekbone, drawing my face to his. “Where you belong, darlin’,” he says, dipping his head and planting a need-filled, bruising kiss to my lips that leaves me panting when he finally pulls away.
This night has certainly taken a turn.
Chapter Forty-Seven
RESTING IN FOREVER
FRIDAY, JUNE 13
“Lola,what are you doing right now, darlin’?” I ask, humor lacing my words for the first time in the last hour.
She doesn’t answer me as she gets on her knees, crawling on the floor, and reaches under the wooden frame to the center of the bed with the bowl of water.
I take my glasses off, set them on the nightstand, and close my book, sitting up to get a better look at her. She’s got her ass in the air, now covered with her tiny, silky night shorts, as she shoves the bowl further under the bed. She presses the tip of her tongue to her teeth, groaning, and when she’s satisfied, she sits back on her shins, slapping her hands on her thighs. “All better,” she says, reaching a hand out for me to pull her up. I tug her into my lap, swinging her legs over the side of the bed so she’s resting on my thighs.
“What’s better? Do we have a cat hiding under the bed who needs a bowl of water or something?”
“No,” she says, indignant, as ifI’mthe one who’s being ridiculous. “The water is to ward off negative energy. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of changing it each day.”
Okay, turns out Iwasbeing ridiculous. I should’ve knownbetter. I’ve been surrounded by Cuban culture my entire life, and I’m thankful for that. It’s given me a unique perspective into the lives of people so different from where I’ve grown up, and I couldn’t be more grateful for it. I might not always understand why Mayte or Bexaida do the things they do, but I’m glad they do them.
It’s that insight that tells me I should nod my head and accept her answer for what it is. So that’s exactly what I do.
“Ready to go to sleep?” I ask, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again after what happened tonight,” she groans. “But I’ll try.”
I roll her off me, setting her on her preferred side of what I’d like to start callingourbed. I keep all the lights on in the house, lock our bedroom door, and double-check the closet, bathroom, shower, and windows. Nugget gets into his bed in the closet, where he apparently prefers to stay, and I flip off the lights before climbing into bed beside Lola.
She rolls on top of me, weighing me down with comfortable ease, as if this is how we sleep every night. And I hope it is, for the rest offorever.
“Goodnight, darlin’.”
“Goodnight, Ry,” she whispers, pressing a warm kiss to the side of my neck that makes my insides turn to goo.
Chapter Forty-Eight
ENERGÍA PESADA
