Chapter Eleven #3
“Yes,” she replied, then gave her last piece of toast a longing look before she replaced it on her plate so she could keep talking.
“My dad is very smart. He landed a job in Silicon Valley, and he moved the family from Mexico to San Jose before I was born. We’re among the lucky ones.
My sisters and I are so fortunate to have great lives here, free and financially secure in this country.
My dad gave us that opportunity, and we’re all terribly grateful to him.
But we left others behind. Both my parent’s families still live in Chilpancingo, and things are not good there.
Lots of drug cartels, gang violence, corruption, that kind of thing,” she explained.
“My dad has been trying to get his brother and wife and two kids into America for as long as I can remember, but without luck.” There was definite sadness in her voice.
“Oh, I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. Few people who live outside Mexico do.
” She shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly, but he could tell she was trying to make less of the situation.
It seemed like a heavy burden the family had to shoulder; they were the lucky ones who made it, but in doing so they’d left loved ones behind.
He guessed it was the same story all over the world for refugees and immigrants alike.
Everyone wanted a better life, but at what cost?
“And so what made you move to Seattle?”
“Oh, ah, I always wanted to study photography.” Summer’s gaze slid to the window above the sink, and he wondered why his question had made her uncomfortable.
“Don’t they have good universities in California?” He knew of Stanford and Berkley, some of the best institutes in America, just to name a few. They ran photography courses there, didn’t they?
“Oh, yes, sure. But Seattle University offers small class sizes and great mentorship programs,” she said, dipping her head to give her toast another longing glance but not offering any more information.
“Hmm.” Seattle was a long way from San Jose.
The rest of her family seemed close-knit.
She’d just admitted that she and her sisters owed a lot to her father, and all the rest of them had stayed.
So why had she been the only one to leave?
Had she been running away from something?
Maybe there was some kind of rift between her and her parents. Or was it something else?
M?rten had also moved away from his family to take up a new career, so she wasn’t alone in her decision.
But he was good at reading people, and he’d picked up that Summer had some trauma that she was hiding from her past. She’d left her family behind.
But what about a boyfriend? Had she left him behind as well?
Or was there no one special to keep her in San Jose?
She’d been very clear that she had no current lover.
She was a gorgeous woman, so men should be clamoring to ask her out.
Did she just choose not to date? Or was she scared of commitment, a little like him?
“And you never wanted to move back, even after you finished your degree?” He continued to probe.
“I thought about it,” she confessed. “I mean, I miss my family, and I’ll definitely visit as soon as all this is over.
My mom would never forgive me if I didn’t go and explain to her face-to-face why I brought the family into danger.
” Summer pursed her lips into an anxious moue, but her face soon morphed to become wistful.
“Lily is getting married next year, so I’ll go home for that, of course.
And Jasmine, my eldest sister, is pregnant with her second baby.
My mom is always nagging me about how much I’m missing out, asking why I chose to live in that cold, miserable city so far away and on my own.
And maybe I am. Maybe I am missing out.” She turned to face him, and for a split second, he could see real, raw emotions etched onto her face, until she blinked and the look was gone.
“Mom thinks that the only route to being truly happy is to get married, settle down and have kids.” She gave a soft, derisive snort.
“But that’s just not in my future, so it’s easier to stay away, then I don’t have to listen to the nagging.
” Summer lifted her chin. “I’m happy living alone; it’s easier that way. ”
He wondered at her use of the word alone.
When he’d first met her, she had seemed terribly lonely.
She’d just suffered a major trauma and admitted she had friends, but hadn’t wanted to bother any of them, like she didn’t think she was important in their lives.
She preferred to sort out her own problems. Summer was a strong lady, but she was also a bit of a control freak.
And she didn’t like to cede that control to anyone—he’d found that out the hard way when she’d stubbornly refused his help on the night of the break in—almost as if she let go of the reins for even a second, something bad was going to happen.
If she truly wanted to remain alone, then he found that a little sad. A woman like her had a lot to offer.
But then who was he to talk? He’d just admitted he was happy being a bachelor, at least for the near future.
He hadn’t given the distant future much thought.
Marriage and kids were words that meant little to him right now.
His mother would say it was just because he hadn’t met the right woman yet.
But to never get married. Never have kids.
That felt…like it might be a big mistake, like he might regret the choice later on.
But it seemed Summer had made that intentional decision and was sticking to it.
He’d been so engrossed in their conversation, he wasn’t aware they were now sitting facing each other on their stools, knees touching. She was rubbing her thumb across her palm again in that habitual little movement, and in an instinctive action, M?rten reached over and grabbed her hand.
“Why do you do that?” he asked, turning her hand in his so that her palm faced upward.
Summer blinked up at him as if frozen by his touch.
For one heartbeat.
Then two.
Then she snatched her hand back, but not before he saw the old scar running the diagonal length of her palm.
“It’s just a bad habit,” she said, not meeting his gaze.
“That’s a nasty scar,” he said gently. There could be lots of reasons she had an old scar on her hand.
But his experience on the force made the worst kinds of scenarios circle in his head.
Domestic violence was rampant everywhere.
It looked like a defensive wound. Had a lover attacked her?
Or a family member perhaps? Was that why she’d moved away?
Whatever the reason, it could be a clue as to why Summer was so determined to remain alone.
“Summer?” He reached out and tilted her chin until she was looking at him, and it was only then he realized he was leaning in close, his body angled toward her as he searched her face. Her caramel skin had paled, her dark eyes widening at his touch. His eyes drifted to her lips without his consent.
Oh God, he wanted to kiss her. Again. Wanted to gather her into his chest and comfort her.
Wrap his arms around her, draw her mouth to his and use his body to shield her as well as console.
She was a lost soul in need of rescuing.
But this feeling was more than wanting to rescue her soul.
His body was singing with desire. Nothing good would come of his kissing this woman.
It wasn’t a smart move. There was nothing simple or easy about Summer, and so he shouldn’t start something he couldn’t finish.
But he was so painfully aware of her, it was as if she had invaded every brain cell, every muscle and bone in his body.
Unconsciously, he leaned further forward.
She was the one to break the spell when she got off her stool and practically ran to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
Fuck. He was a complete idiot.