25. Graciella #2
“I’d had a job for as long as I could remember.
Every penny that didn’t go toward my share of the bills went toward saving for college.
But when I turned eighteen, he told me I wasn’t going.
” A tear trickled down my cheek. I hated thinking about the betrayal I’d felt.
“He’d known he wasn’t letting me go, too.
But for years, he let me think I’d get to go.
Asshole didn’t even say a thing when I sat at the table filling out applications. Then just yanked my dream from me.”
“Couldn’t you just…go?” Monroe asked, thumbing one of my tears away. “You’re an adult at eighteen. You didn’t need their permission.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not how it worked in my household.
My dad was the head of the household, and his word was law.
So when he told me I didn’t belong in college, that my place was at home and working to help pay for the house, the family, that was that.
God forbid you tried to tell him he was wrong. ”
“That’s—”
“Fucked,” I finished. “And I did leave. I left that weekend. I’d been so heartbroken by the betrayal that I needed out. Ariella and Ricky helped me pack. My tía let me hide out at their place.”
I nuzzled into his calloused palm, my hand circling his wrist, needing to touch him back. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always, Graciella. I’ll hold all your secrets if you need.” His voice was filled with emotion I didn’t expect him to share with me.
My stomach swooped.
“I thought he’d come after me. Come find me and tell me he was sorry, that I could go to school.” My lids shut, attempting to barricade my tears. “That he was proud of me.” I let out a bitter laugh. “He didn’t. The night he told me, that was my last time speaking with him.”
Silence grew, thick and heavy. Worry built in my gut. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, that he’d judge m—
“He doesn’t deserve to hear from you.” Monroe’s voice was fierce, piercing through my worried thoughts. “How’d you end up in Dallas?”
I sighed. I’d already shared way more than I’d planned. Why not finish the sad story that was my introduction to adulthood?
“Well, when it was clear my dad wasn’t changing his mind, and I’d been banned from the house, I decided to go anyway.
” More tears prickled at the corners of my eyes.
“He’d made me feel so worthless. Like nothing about me was worth loving.
I decided to do it myself. I was going to go to school, move out, and do it all on my own. Without him. Without anyone.”
Because no one was coming, anyway.
“Unfortunately, when I went to take my money out of the separate account I’d put my college savings into, it was gone.”
My heart stalled in the same way it had when I looked at the balance on the ATM all those years ago.
The bed dipped, and Monroe hovered over me, propped up on one elbow. His face twisted in anger. “He took your fucking money? Your college fund?”
My emotion clogged my throat. Not at the memory, but at how fierce his response was.
“Yeah. I had just enough to get me to Texas and find a new job. My resumé is pretty diverse, let me tell you.” I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but his scowl only grew deeper. “I’m drowning in student loan debt,” I said, answering the question written on his face.
Another nervous laugh hung between us. Because how the fuck else was I supposed to cope with the shit show that was my life?
Monroe studied my face, lips pursed like he was holding back a stream of thoughts, but all he managed to get out was, “Do you wish you two still spoke?”
“I used to. Right after the whole blow-up. But I’ve spent years deconstructing those emotions,” I answered truthfully.
“Good, then I can say this without feeling bad. Fuck your dad. You’re better off without him.” His eyes slid closed, and he pulled in a few breaths before asking, “What about your mom?”
A sigh slipped out. “That one’s been more complicated to mend.
At eighteen, I didn’t consider that she was just as trapped as I was.
I’d wanted so badly for her to say something to him.
To tell him to let me go to school…but she just stood there with her head bowed.
I hated her, too, for a while.” I choked the words out.
The pad of his thumb caught another rogue tear, and my heart skipped.
“About a year later, she called. I only answered because I didn’t know the number. She’d left him.”
I paused, the truth lodged in my throat, uncomfortable and harsh. “I still wish she had fought for me. Put me first, but she didn’t. Neither of them did.”
The last part was barely above a whisper. Awareness zapped along my skin. I was afraid to move. Afraid I’d break this safe bubble we were in.
Monroe flopped back down on the bed. His massive shoulder pressed firmly against mine. “Found out I had a daughter about three days after my injury.”
The night nearly swallowed his words.
My eyes slid to the side of his face, needing to watch his reaction. The lines between his brows creased, the corners of his mouth pulling down.
“Did the League know about the accident and that you found out about being a father when they hung you out to dry like that?”
He gave a short nod, threading his fingers through mine.
A sob hitched in my throat.
I threw my arm around his shoulder, burying my head against his chest. The scent of fresh laundry and something earthy enveloped me. Monroe stiffened beneath me, the steady thump of his heart picking up a pace or two.
“I’m not letting go until you hug me back,” I muttered into the dampened fabric. On the second sniffle, the weight of his arm settled over my side, trapping me to his front.
“Please don’t cry, Trouble,” he pleaded, words soft and muffled by my hair. “I don’t handle crying women well. I’m not good with people, remember?”
“Yes you are,” I said into his chest, meaning it.
Monroe was great with people. He’d just closed himself off, and now it all made sense. The barbed exterior that he brandished was a coping mechanism for the hurt and the heartache others caused him. Our armor was different, but served the same purpose.
Protection from letting others in.
“I’m sorry, Josh.” The words came out between hiccupped sobs.
“Shh.” His warm breath skated across my crown. Long fingers rubbed small circles on my back. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything. Well, you’ve been a pain in my ass since we met, but…”
The little barb was what I needed. A laugh slipped out, sounding more like another hiccup. He chuckled, chest rumbling against my face.
He tilted my face towards his, staring down with an intensity that made me squirm. “I’m proud of you, Graciella.”
This was the real him.
Someone caring enough to lie here and stroke my cheek, to brush away matted strands of hair from my face.
“Thank you,” I whispered, meaning it from the bottom of my heart.
Something shifted between us, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. But I didn’t think I could stop it.
He must have realized it, too, because he looked at me in a way I’d never seen before. I couldn’t pin what the expression was, but it made me feel damned good. Warm, safe—worth caring for…
Sliding my hands up his body, I pressed them to his broad chest. “I’ve never told anyone all of that before. At least not all the stuff about how I felt about it…” I gnawed on my lip. “You’re the last person I expected to pour my heart out to, but I’m glad it was you.”
Our eyes locked, before his dipped to my mouth.
And then his hot lips pressed to mine, erasing every coherent thought. There was nothing but the feeling of him pressed against me.
I slid my arms around his neck, moaning as he sucked on my tongue. Rough hands found my waist, his fingers dimpling my skin through my shirt as he held me.
Our tongues slid against each other, warring for dominance. Yet all I wanted to do was submit. Monroe’s stubble scraped my cheek, and I dug my nails into his chest at the delicious burn, eliciting a low groan from him.
His fingers entwined with my hair, giving a sharp tug, sending sparks of pleasure between my legs.
Only one coherent thought shoved its way to the front of my mind.
He kissed me like I mattered.
Heat erupted across my skin, emanating from behind my ribcage. Moans fell from my swollen lips, and he was there to swallow them. Eager for anything I gave him.
The kiss changed, slowing and deepening. Those sinful fingers felt as if they were everywhere…and nowhere I needed them.
I wasn’t sure whether I was thankful or furious about that.
There were so many things I wanted to say. To ask.
How was I going to resist him now?
“I can feel you overthinking,” he said, his minty scent dancing across my face.
I pushed back, studying his face. The crease between his brows was gone, and the normally harsh line of his mouth was a lazy smile. I hit his chest to knock some sense into him, but the smirk only grew.
“We shouldn’t have done that, Josh. If it got out that we just did that…” Panic clawed at my throat, and I didn’t know whether it was the thought of people finding out, or of never feeling his lips on mine again. “It’d only bring you more trouble. And I’m supposed to be helping you avoid that.”
“Shhh. Don’t worry about that right now.” Monroe pressed his lips to mine again, trailing them up into my hair as he pulled me into his chest. “Come on, let’s both try this sleeping together thing.”
He enveloped me, completely and wholly.
Everything blurred. There was nothing but him.
Sleep dragged me under, but I swore I heard a whispered, “It’s okay, baby. I’m learning I like trouble.”