14. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
S ummer had always loved Ramiro’s house. She’d dreamed about moving in with him one day, but not like this—not out of pity. She moved into the sunken living room, her stomach knotting.
“Let me give you a quick tour.” Ramiro’s hand slid to the small of her back to guide her along.
She remembered the layout of the house, and every piece of furniture she’d picked out to furnish it, but she let him lead her along. The kitchen would be fabulous to cook in, the bathrooms were spotless, his office was a mess that she wanted to fix for him, and the guest bedrooms were still put together as if no one had used them.
No one ever had.
He set her suitcase inside the room midway down the hallway that led to his bedroom at the end. She remembered his bedroom. It was dark and masculine, with the largest bed she could find.
She barely remembered the green comforter set she’d picked out for the spare room.
Ramiro ran his hand through his hair, leaving behind a disheveled mess that she itched to smooth. He released the handle on her suitcase. “My room is down the hall. This one’s closest, just in case you need me.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she always needed him. She swallowed the words. She’d already been needy enough.
The green of the comforter was now a color that she hated.
He cleared his throat. “I need to take care of a few things. You remember where my office is?”
She nodded, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed.
He hovered in the doorway. Staring at her own feet let her see his at the edge of her vision.
“Say something, Summer. You haven’t, not since you woke up again.”
She’d woken up in his arms. Despite the way she’d gotten there, it had been a wonderful feeling. Anytime she touched Ramiro, she got exactly what she wanted. Her tears had tied him tighter to herself. When would it be enough?
Summer lifted her head, her lips spreading into a smile. “I’m fine. ”
He frowned, crossing to stand in front of her. His hand caressed along her jaw, and a shiver ran through her. “Don’t smile if you don’t feel it.”
How often had he told her that? She let the brittle expression fall, unable to resist leaning her head against his hand. “I’m a little hungry,” she admitted.
He nodded, the tightness around his eyes easing. “We haven’t eaten anything today, have we? We slept most of the day away instead.”
Summer doubted he’d slept much. He’d likely held her because that was exactly what she’d needed. “I could order something,” she offered, knowing he likely had an empty fridge. Ramiro neglected himself if left to his own devices.
“I’ll order something. You rest. I haven’t forgotten that you passed out on the bathroom floor.” He brushed her hair behind her ear before pulling his hand away.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Do you even know what to order?”
Ramiro’s lips twitched like she’d hoped. “Are you going into secretary mode?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “After seeing the state of your office? I know what I’m doing tomorrow.”
He shook his head, frowning. “Don’t even think about it. You need to rest.”
That was the last thing she needed—hours upon hours of her thoughts spiraling out of control.
“And stop trying to distract me. The way you passed out scared me. First thing Monday, I’d like you to see an obstetrician.” His eyes dropped to her stomach. “We need to make sure everything is okay.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She let it out slowly, closing her eyes. “I already have an appointment scheduled for Monday morning.” That was why she’d taken another pregnancy test with Derek. She’d wanted him to know in case he wanted to go with her. She’d been so stupid.
“I’m going with you,” Ramiro said.
She met his eyes, wondering how she could still feel so cold. Ramiro was taking care of her. She was there in his house. He’d told her he loved her.
Her nails sank into the comforter as she watched him back toward the doorway, the distance between them growing and making her even colder.
“I’ll go order some food. You focus on getting settled in.” He didn’t look back when he left.
Her fingers hurt from how hard they’d clenched on the bed.
Ramiro had asked her to get settled. She stood on shaky legs to cross to her suitcase. She’d only packed enough for a few days. Her underwear and pajamas barely took up one of the dresser drawers. The closet in the room still looked mostly empty after her dresses hung inside. She tucked the suitcase against the back wall. The suitcase reminded her that this was temporary.
Ramiro was just putting her together again, like he’d done for the seventeen-year-old she’d been so long ago. Ten years had changed them both, but the way he’d looked at her back then and the way he looked at her now wasn’t so different.
He hadn’t told her he’d loved her back then, not like he had now. She didn’t doubt his words, but there were all kinds of love. The way Ramiro loved her was warm and steady and made her ache with the need for something more.
He’d said the words, but her tears tore down his defenses until he’d give her absolutely anything to make her stop crying. Ramiro hadn’t lied. He wouldn’t do that. He just didn’t love her in the same way that she loved him.
The spare room she stood in made that very clear.
She crawled on top of the hated green bedspread, curling into herself, relieved she had no tears left.
She’d allow herself five minutes. Five minutes to wallow in the loss of the small bit of self-respect she’d clung to.
Then she was going to fake being all right. With enough effort, even Ramiro would believe it. She knew. She’d done it often over the years.
R amiro looked through the movement of the cartel, or the lack of it. His hit on the club had served its purpose. All the noise Hayes was able to gather showed them scrambling. With none of the older Guzmans left to lead, those that were left would splinter off.
He leaned back in his office chair and closed his eyes. Summer had barely eaten any of the pizza he’d ordered. Bruised-looking skin dragged down her eyes, and that fake smile of hers that carved pieces out of him had returned. He’d known it would appear and hadn’t pushed her on it this time.
Too much pushing and she’d break again.
He’d gone out to the gate himself to accept the food delivery, assuring himself that the perimeter of his property was secure. Summer had fallen in love with the house when she’d seen it, and he’d known in that moment that he would buy it. Ramiro had fallen in love with the security and the seclusion.
High gates, surveillance that Diego had recently upgraded, and bulletproof windows were more important than a cleanly designed kitchen and more space than anyone could ever want.
Hayes adjusted the paperwork. No one would find the name Ramiro Rodriguez linked to the property. Summer would be safe here, even if the Guzmans managed to patch their organization back together.
He should have been relieved. Things should have felt settled, but all Ramiro could think about was the way Summer had stiffened in his arms when she’d woken up. He deserved it. Pretty words didn’t erase the ones that came before.
Even though Summer had always loved his house, she’d looked lost in it today. Tomorrow, he hoped to erase that lost expression on her face.
The doctor called earlier. Ramiro regretted telling him to release her prick of an ex, but he could change his mind later, once Summer realized she didn’t want her baby’s father in her life .
Summer had defended what the asshole said about her. The idea of her lying beneath the men she’d been with and enduring made him want to kill each and every one of them even more than he had before.
He paused in front of the guest bedroom’s closed door. Having her in there was the last thing he wanted, but the way she’d become cold and stiff under his body lingered in his mind. Fucking her would be the worst thing for both of them. It’d just continue the pattern.
Ramiro didn’t want Summer to come to him to be healed or out of some toxic need to make him happy. He wanted her to be horny for him. Nothing else would do.
He dragged his hand through his hair and retreated toward his office. A few hours working would hopefully settle him enough to try to sleep.