Page 56 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name
Something bitter and sharp burned in his throat. “No. You don’t understand shit, Julia.” His voice was quiet but laced with something raw. “You skip through life like a fucking Bambi in the woods. You don’t see the bad in the world. It just doesn’t exist for you.”
He stepped toward her. “But it exists for me. It’s existed since I was fourteen. Since I was alone in a foreign country with a four-year-old to take care of. You have no idea the things I’ve had to do to survive.” He let out a humorless laugh. “And I didn’t want any of it, baby.”
Her tear-streaked face lifted, something breaking open in her expression.
And then he saw it.
The thing he’d been dreading.
Fear.
But then something even worse. In her eyes, he saw himself. Every sin. Every regret. Everything he hated about who he was. Reflected back at him.
This thing between them was a minefield, and it was going to blow them both up.
He tore his gaze away, jaw tight. “I love you, Julia. But we are not the same. And I don’t think you fucking get that.”
Her lips parted, her face a battlefield of emotions—grief, anger, something fierce and unrelenting. But also, something that looked like surrender.
She grabbed her clothes from the floor, pulling them on with shaky hands.
He watched from the door as she walked down the dirt path, the midday heat blurring the edges of her figure. His chest rose and fell like he’d just faced down an opponent ten times her size. An army of his own emotions was doing battle.
The winner was loss, a feeling of crushing bereavement. Of something priceless shattering right in front of him.
FIFTEEN
Daniel rattledthe wrought-iron bars of the security gate, then stumbled backward into the gravel parking lot. It was past midnight. Martín’s restaurant was shuttered, dark, and silent.
He tipped his head back, eyes searching the second-floor windows. “¡Sebastián!¡Órale!”
A minute later, a shadow moved behind the glass. Then the sound of locks clicking open—first one, then two chains sliding free. The door creaked, and Sebastián appeared in the dim hallway, arms crossed. He eyed Daniel from head to toe. “Estás pedo, güey.”
Daniel was drunk. He lifted the bottle of bourbon by its neck and shrugged. “Getting there.”
Sebastián didn’t move. Another figure appeared behind him—taller, older than Sebastián, younger than Daniel. He was pulling on a t-shirt as he stepped into the light.
Daniel watched as Sebastián turned toward him, and they shared a brief kiss before the guy headed out the door and jogged down the steps. He passed Daniel with an unreadable glance before disappearing across the lot.
Daniel turned back, raising an eyebrow. “That Caleb?”
Sebastián nodded.
Daniel snorted and gave his brother a playful shove. “He come to get his book back?”
Sebastián just looked him up and down. “I take it you and Julia are over.”
Daniel rubbed a hand over the scruff on his jaw. “Mierda.”
Three days had passed since that morning in his trailer, and each one had been progressively worse.
He let the door bang shut behind him and climbed the stairs, trailing after his brother. When they reached the room, he uncapped the bottle and took another swig before slumping to the floor beneath the window. The bourbon burned warm and cheap down his throat. He held the bottle out, and Sebastián took it, hesitating only a second before drinking.
Daniel fished a joint from his pocket, rolling it between his fingers. He planned on getting so drunk and so high that he wouldn’t have to feel anything, not until tomorrow at least.
Before he could light it, Sebastián muttered, “You know Martín freaks when you smoke in here.”
Daniel exhaled sharply and shoved the joint back into his pocket. He leaned his head against the windowsill. “I always knew I was gonna fuck this up.”
