13. Sofia
13
SOFIA
A s soon as I finished stitching up Diego’s arm, I put my medical supplies away. Being a nurse meant my version of a first-aid kit had more than the standard Band-Aids to slap on.
Diego didn’t leave, but the burn of his attention on me didn’t unnerve me. It was awkward in here, though, and it was my fault.
I’d done the brave yet stupid thing of asking him a question about his past. Now, I had to pay the price with this tense quiet.
I was eager to change the subject from what he did or did not remember of his past. So far, I had been so careful to avoid this strong man feeling any pressure to piece together the puzzle of who he was before I found him unconscious in that alley.
I had told Ramon not to push, that it wasn’t a good idea to ask Diego about his past. Questions that would challenge him about what he could and could not recall didn’t seem like an appropriate treatment. I could tell when he got frustrated about not remembering who he was. His brow would pinch, and the desperation to understand broke my heart. Seeing him suffer from confusion when he strained to remember bothered me because I cared about his recovery.
After the depth of that kiss, though, it seemed clear that I cared about him .
I understood that it was difficult for him to not easily know who he was before the night I found him. A sense of identity and self-awareness is a critical necessity in life. And I wasn’t just being sympathetic. I had experienced this before too, in a different way. I lost my sense of self and had gone through the challenge of finding a new identity. The night the Cartel kidnapped me marked the occasion that altered my life for good. There was the previous Sofia, the younger woman I was, so innocent, na?ve, and hopeful about life. Then there was this current version of me, jaded, smart, and cautious. I had to reconstruct myself and be a new version of myself after the hell of all that I experienced. And it was hard to let go of the past, to reconcile who you were before and who you had to be now.
The problem was that I didn’t know what to say to move on from this topic. He followed me out of the bathroom, and just seeing the destruction in the living bothered me. I let out a shaky breath and let my shoulders sag.
“No. Don’t.” He stepped around me and blocked me from seeing it. “Why don’t you go to bed and I’ll clean it up?”
I shook my head. Just who is this guy, this caring, this take-charge, all for my benefit? “No, that’s not right. You already cleaned up…” I cleared my throat. “So much.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
I peered around him, though, not letting him call the shots. “You’re still recovering, Diego. You just fought them and then, um, moved large things. And cleaned. I won’t let you overexert yourself by setting this room back together on top of all that now.”
“Oh.” He crossed his arms and eyed me up and down. “You won’t let me?”
Heat coursed through me at the sexy tone he’d used. As if the thought of my giving him hell could be fun.
“Yeah. I won’t let you clean it all up.”
He shrugged, watching me closely. “Then where will I sleep?”
I sighed, staring at him and wondering how I could go from vowing to never trust a man again to taking big leaps toward wanting to have faith in him.
How can I not trust him?
He’d killed for me. He protected me and my son, like a knight in shining armor, like a prince sweeping in to save the day, like the hero I didn’t think could exist in the real world.
I set my tongue on the corner of my mouth, running through a plethora of what-ifs that blended and muddied in my mind. What if I was wrong about him? What if he had an ulterior motive? What if he was leading a double life? What if… I can’t resist him?
Since he’d made such a bold move to kiss me, he’d opened the gates to all the desire I’d been scolding myself not to have for him all this time.
“You can sleep here.” I held my breath, nervous, as I took his hand and led him toward my room. It wasn’t that big, but my bed would fit both of us.
He didn’t say a word as he followed me. I let go of his hand to gesture at the bed. Then I frowned, realizing something that had slipped my mind. “Hey. Why were you and Ramon back this way in the house when they came in? Did you hear them and try to hide?”
“No. Ramon came home before you. It sounds like Se?ora Vasquez was dealing with her daughter-in-law, and he figured he could come home since he knew I was here and he wouldn’t be alone.”
Hmm. I didn’t exactly like the sound of that. He knew better than to ever be somewhere unsupervised. Sure, Diego was here, but still, I wanted Ramon to follow my instructions. They were for his safety.
Diego frowned, going to the bed and lying down on top of it. He watched me as I went into the closet to change out of my scrubs. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see anything.
“We talked for a little bit.”
About what?
“He can be sneaky.”
I almost laughed at the smile I heard in his tone. “How so?”
“He prompted me to remember how old I am.”
I raised my brows. “Huh. How?”
“He asked me and it just came out. Then he asked me to help him get the candles down for the Noche de las Velitas. So we were in that closet, and I reached up for the box, and we heard them come in.”
“Ah.” I stepped out and didn’t make eye contact as I got on top of the bed. He was only in shorts, and lying next to him on my bed felt too dangerous with me only in an old tank top and sleep shorts.
“Why did you make that face when I said that Ramon came home early?” He rolled his head on the pillow to face me, making no other motion. Nonthreatening in appearance. Patient, too. But his question was a tricky one.
“He’s not supposed to come home alone. Or ever be alone.”
“Because he’s only six?”
Hearing him talk about Ramon should’ve made me uneasy. I was defensive of my son, but Diego didn’t incite anxiousness in me. He couldn’t, not with how seamlessly he’d entered our lives, how valiantly he’d saved our lives. If anything, I owed him the truth.
I swallowed hard, hating to talk about this.
He reached out to rub my arm, and the coarse touch of his fingertips on my skin was such a contrast that it felt even better. Rough, but in a tender, comforting caress.
“Easy, Sofia. No need to lock down from fear again.”
I stared into his chocolatey eyes, believing him. There was no need to let the fear of my trauma lock me down again. Not with him here and his touch grounding me.
I rolled to my side to face him, and he did the same. Settling in, he rubbed my arm again.
“Since the moment I learned that I was pregnant with Ramon, I have been terrified of losing him.”
“As a miscarriage or pregnancy concern?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve always been afraid of someone taking him from me.” I licked my dry lips. “Not just someone, but the Cartel.”
I waited for him to react to my mention of the Cartel.
“Because…” He furrowed his brow. “Because they have always been in operation around here and oppose the law enforcement?” It sounded like he was trying out the words, aware of the Cartel and police in general, but unsure about his opinions of them.
“Yes. And also because Ramon belongs to them.”
He raised his brows. “How?”
“Six years ago, the Cartel kidnapped me from work. I was employed at the same hospital I found you behind. One of their leaders had been injured, and they wanted private nurses to tend to him at their compound. So, I was taken against my will and forced to work there for an old drunk asshole, some leader named Sebastian who was wounded. And I was raped.” I lowered my gaze for a moment, but I regained the determination to keep talking when he secured his hand around mine, threading our fingers together. “One of them raped me, and that was how Ramon was conceived. I managed to escape with another girl.”
I paused, frowning. “We escaped the compound together, but she was shot in the jungle as we ran. When I learned that I was pregnant, from a blood test at that clinic, I was terrified. I was a virgin before I was raped. That old drunk asshole was the father, and I knew that if they learned I was carrying a son of the Cartel, they would demand that I bring him back. I’ve lived in fear every day of his life that someone from the Cartel would find him and take him just because, by blood, he’s ‘one of them’ and should be with them.”
“Sofia…” He let out a long breath and scooted closer to hug me, already reading me so well and understanding me this well to know I needed comfort. “My angel.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head as I burrowed against him, desperate for all the warmth I could take from his hard, hot body.
“I can’t bear to lose him. I cannot bear the thought of losing my son to them.” I reared back from him just enough so I could peer into his dark eyes. “Ramon is all I have. He is all I have to live for in this world.”
Frowning down at me, he seemed reluctant to accept that. “I don’t like that defeatist mentality.”
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t like it. It’s the truth.”
“Sofia, you?—”
“No. You can’t understand. He is my baby. My son. The goodness from the worst time of my life. I have tried to hide him from the Cartel and stay off their radar because I would rather be dead than lose my son.”