CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hesitantly, Toro pries his hand away from mine. He doesn’t want to let go, but there’s no choice. Not right now. The men of the family are all staring at me with murder in their eyes, but Alma is more focused on her brother.
“Damien… he told me somethin’...” Grandpa Tavera looks up at his grandson, his lips drawn tight. A few wisps of white hair sit on his head, face wrinkled and littered with liver spots. “Told me… yer’ datin’... Datin’ a boy—a man…”
I wince at that, the room feeling even smaller than it already is. Toro turns, checking on me. He momentarily relaxes, before having to turn back and face his grandpa—and face reality. Surely he’ll deny it. Why would he put a target on his back over something so minor?
Instead, he nods.
His grandfather’s eyes narrow, the creases etched into his leathery skin becoming more prominent. “That ain’t right, boy. You know that.” Then his attention shifts to me, looking right past Toro.
It strikes genuine fear into my heart. All this time I’ve been running around like I’m home free, but I’m really not. I’m in the exact same spot I was before, except now I’m developing an unhealthy attachment to Toro. So I guess it’s not the exact same spot.
“No need’ta be shy,” he says it so kindly I almost believe it.
I immediately step up to be at Toro’s side, forcing myself to nervously look at his grandfather.
My heart is racing in an entirely different way now, but I want to make a good impression.
To be something more than Toro’s scared little captive.
“H-Hi, I’m Nico… Nico Marín.” Do I offer him my hand? Do I keep talking? I should probably do anything other than stare at him.
“Nico,” he repeats tentatively, “you know that our Toro is a… special boy, don’t ya?”
What the fuck? Are they seriously talking down to Toro again? Do they even see him as human? They’ll call him every name under the sun if it means they get a chance to treat him like some kind of object—like his only purpose on the farm is to be a fucking meat shield.
It bothers me way more than it should, especially when his grip on my hand returns the moment those cruel words leave his grandfather’s lips. “He’s… He’s not as dumb as you’re making him out to be.”
The room goes so quiet you’d swear I just insulted the man. His expression doesn’t falter, in fact his lips curve upwards slightly. “You think so?” His voice is gravely but still full of challenge, expression darkening.
I hesitantly nod. “He’s smart. He understands things. Even if… he has a hard time showing it, he does understand.”
“Toro ain’t nothin’ but a damn fool,” Damien chimes in. “Just ‘cause he likes to cuddle and kiss ya don’t mean shit.”
He’s itching to say more, but Mr. Tavera hushes him.
I don’t like the expression he wears when he looks over at me with his hands balled into fists.
“It’s true, though, Nico. I really don’t know what game yer’ getting at with him, but he don’t understand you.
Not really. The boy can’t even read or write, you think he’s capable of love? ”
My eyes widen at the word. I don’t even want to open that can of worms. But I can’t ignore it. Ignore the things he’s saying. “He is.” I find myself saying without thinking. “He could.”
“Real hopeful.” Mr. Tavera shakes his head at me, putting a hand on his father’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze.
The man steps forward, towering over me with narrow eyes.
He leans in uncomfortably close, the scent of tobacco wafting over me.
“But don’t forget yer’ place here, boy. ‘Cause if you’re wrong…
” his gaze flickers over to Toro. “You’ll pay for it with your life. ”
I catch the way his attention briefly stops on our hands, nose scrunching up before he looks at his son.
Toro seems overwhelmed, letting out a soft whine before turning off to the side.
My grip tightens in some feeble attempt to remind him that I’m still here.
The way his shoulders ease almost slips right by me, but I see it.
“M’tired…” The eldest Tavera mumbles, the conversation seemingly slipping his mind. “Carry me up to my room, Toro.”
Toro hesitates, but a command is a command and he’s too used to listening. He lets go of me, scooping his grandfather up and disappearing up the stairs. As his heavy footsteps grow quieter I realize I am not on my own with the entire Tavera family looking at me.
“You can be honest with us,” Lucio’s tone is soft—too soft. “It ain’t a bad thing if you were butterin’ him up to try and live. I mean, shit, nobody’s ever done that before.”
Damien’s arm wraps around my shoulder, pulling me close like we’re all buddy buddy. “Heh. It’d be pretty smart. That what yer’ doin?”
“No.” Despite my efforts to come off composed my voice quivers slightly. “I’m not doing that.”
“So what is it, then?” Mr. Tavera says. “You actually care about him? Is that what yer’ saying?”
The answer is simple. “Yes.” His brow creases, clearly not expecting me to be so honest about it. “I do. I care about him. I-I care about Toro.”
“He killed your friends,” Mr. Tavera reminds me as though I could’ve ever forgotten that. “You really can’t forgive that, can you?”
That answer is not so simple. When Lucio mentioned it before I didn’t have to think about an answer, but he’s expecting one from me now. They all are.
But it’s not that I don’t want to forgive him, either. It’s complicated, and confusing, and honestly—does it even matter? I don’t think it does at this point. Because I like him regardless.
I might not be able to fully look past what he did, but that doesn’t change everything else he did for me. Telling them it’s technically their fault isn’t an option. They won’t enjoy being criticized—even though they all played a part in how he was raised.
I only shrug. “It doesn’t matter. He’s…”
He’s what? I’ve talked myself into a corner. If I say he didn’t understand it, that means that deep down I think the same horrible thing they do about him: that he’s stupid. If I say I can’t, then they’ll doubt my feelings.
Fuck.
“He’s a good person.” The words feel natural as they leave my mouth.
It’s what I actually believe. I believe in him.
If he wasn’t a good person, he wouldn’t have spared me.
It doesn’t matter why he did it, it matters that he did.
Everyone makes mistakes, his mistakes are just… way bigger than most people’s.
Damien breaks into a fit of laughter, arms folding over his stomach like I just told the funniest joke known to man.
“Toro!? A good person!?” He sucks in a breath, coughing from laughing so hard.
“I’ve seen that boy kill men n’ women alike with no fuckin’ hesitation!
Yer’ sayin’ that’s what a good person does? !”
“I just… He’s…” I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know how to defend him. How can I possibly justify my feelings? He’s nice to me, but Damien is right. So many people—including my own friends—have come to this farm and been killed.
How can I be so sure I’m not next?