Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MAIA
I s he kidding me?
“What did I do?”
His behavior makes my head hurt. For such a wise man, he can be so stupid and dense. I’m puzzled by his reaction—also, by my behavior.
I let him kiss me.
And it was so good.
I touch my burning lips. He grins for a moment, but then his brow arches. “I deserve an explanation.”
“You don’t deserve anything.”
“Maia, you’re being unreasonable. And did you see my car?”
Oh, I’ve seen it. Did I have my fun decorating Gatsby’s car?
Yes.
I can’t even think beyond what I did to it because my brain is foggy—that kiss.
“How dare you kiss me?”
“I told you to stop me.”
He did, but I wasn’t expecting him to kiss me that way. I should’ve stopped him, but how can I not let him when he was so close and still smiling at me even when I had fucked up his car. It felt like the old days when we were playful, happy, and in love.
“I hate you.”
He shrugs. “It’s okay. Apparently, I still have enough love for the two of us.”
My bones become jelly. He used to say it all the time when he upset me. But did he love me? Then why leave me and steal my dream?
His phone buzzes. He looks at it and growls. “What the fuck?”
I shouldn’t ask, but I do it anyway. “What happened?”
“My brother just texted me that he’s leaving. I’m stranded in San Jose.”
I can’t help but grin. “Seems like you’re having one of those weeks.”
He shrugs. “If that’s going to get me a kiss from you, I’ll take it. I’d also take a lift to San Francisco if you’re offering one of those.”
I tap my chin a couple of times. “Umm, let me think about it. Nope.”
“Come on, Little Blue. I don’t have a car.”
“You can drive Betty.”
He shakes his head. “Hux called a tow truck. They’re picking it up soon and fixing it.”
“Have you downloaded Ride Express? It’s our new app.”
“Is it?” His voice is filled with excitement, and before he tries to download it, I confess, “No, but I might figure out a way to start that service soon…unless you steal it from me.”
“Damn it, Maia. I’ve never stolen shit from you.”
“Re—”
I stop as my phone blares with Tiggy’s ringtone. This is one of those calls I need to answer right away. She might be having a meltdown or…I send a silent prayer that she’s calling to tell me that the weather is just perfect in San Diego.
“Hey, Tiggy, this is?—”
“He found me,” she whispers.
The fear in her voice tightens my lungs. Her ex left a shadow of what my extroverted, happy sister used to be. I wish I could do something to help her, but she only lets us do so much.
“Who?” I ask, already knowing that it could be the bastard who destroyed her, or a figment of her imagination. These days, she has trouble separating fiction from reality.
“Bram,” she stutters.
But did he find her?
I close my eyes briefly, trying to think about my next move. Our parents are in Miami visiting our family. Cee-cee lives in New York, and I…I can’t get there in time. However, I’m the closest. No matter if this is a vision or…but what if he found her and he attacks her? I can’t lose my sister.
“Are you okay?” Gatsby asks.
I shake my head.
How did I forget that he’s here? He should leave. He might not be anything like Bram, but there’s one thing the Ocampo sisters have in common. We’re poor judges of character, at least when it comes to men.
“Where is he, Tig?”
“Outside, waiting for me.”
Where is she?
I want to ask if she’s sure it’s him. The last time she saw someone who looked like him was at the mall.
She called Mom, who disregarded her. Tiggy had a full-blown panic attack that landed her in the hospital.
If Mom had just driven to her and taken her home, nothing would’ve happened.
But she ignored her. I have to help her, but what can I do? I’m miles away from her.
“Where are you, Tiggy?”
“At Mom and Dad’s, I came to water their plants. I found him outside. I entered through the garage, but…this time, it’s him. I swear, Maia, Bram is outside waiting for me.”
“I believe you. Can you call the police?”
She scoffs. “And what if they don’t do anything? It’ll just upset him.”
How can I ask her to trust them? She reported Bram several times, and they never believed her because he was a detective. It wasn’t until she was in the hospital with broken bones, internal bleeding, and fighting for her life that they finally put him in jail.
But he’s out now and in San Diego, stalking my sister.
This might be a good time to convince her to come to San Francisco with me.
I have a big house. There are also rehab places nearby where she can get help.
She refuses to do so, and as my therapist says, unless she wants to get better, there’s nothing we can do for her.
“Hey, I’m going to fly to you. Make sure you don’t open the door to anyone.”
“How long will that take?” Her frightened voice squeezes my heart.
“I’m going to buy the first available ticket. In the meantime, I’m going to make a few calls. Maybe find a bodyguard that can get to you.”
“No, please, don’t send a stranger,” she mumbles.
“Sorry, I won’t. Do you want me to stay on the line until I board the plane?”
“No, I’m going to hide in Mom and Dad’s closet.”
I’d smile if this wasn’t so terrifying. Many children created forts, we didn’t.
We used our parents’ walk-in closet to play in and to hide when they fought.
Not that they did it often, but like any other couple, they had their differences.
They were so loud that I gathered my sisters and we hid in the closet until they calmed down.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay. He’s not going to touch you again. I should be there in two hours.” Plus however long it takes me to find a flight, I don’t say.
“Maybe I’ll wait for Mom and Dad. They’ll be here on Monday. I don’t want to put you in any danger.”
“He’s not going to do anything to either one of us. I know self-defense. If he gets close, he’ll regret it. Now, go into the closet so that I can hang up and get a flight.”
“I’m sorry for disrupting your day.” She sobs.
“Please, don’t be. I’m here for you.”
“I know, thank you,” she whispers and hangs up the phone.
I finally look up and Gatsby is still here—busy on the phone. He should just leave. As I’m about to show him out the door, he looks up at me and says, “San Diego?”
“What?”
“You need to fly to San Diego, right?”
I give him a confused glance. “Yeah?”
He gives some instructions I can’t hear and then hangs up the phone.
“You can leave,” I say, taking a seat while trying to calm myself.
I don’t know where to start. Who do I call to get her help? Can I even get someone to her in time?
“May I ask what happened to your sister?”
I look up and stare into his gorgeous eyes.
He might’ve broken my heart, but he never tried to break my body or my soul.
Why do I dare to compare Bram and Gatsby?
They have nothing in common. This guy might be a deceptive asshole, but he always treated me like a princess.
I almost touch my lips, but I remember my sister.
“Taygete’s husband…ex-husband,” I correct. “He might be outside my parents’ house waiting for her.”
“I take it it was a bad divorce?”
I can’t help but snort. “It was a good divorce, the worst marriage. We didn’t know he abused her until he almost killed her.”
“I’m sorry.”
Me too. If I could rewind time and convince her not to fall for the first guy who said I love you. I wish my parents hadn’t been so protective of us. “I just need to get to her and make sure she’s fine. She’s scared of her own shadow.”
He looks at his watch and says, “The plane should be ready when you arrive at the airport.”
“What are you talking about?” I push my brain to focus on the issue at hand. “I need to get to my sister now.”
“Yes, I heard. You need a ride to San Diego. I got you.”
“You? How?”
“My jet.”
I snort. “Of course, you have a private jet.”
“And it’s at your service. I’ll text you the instructions. A helicopter is waiting for you, it’ll take you to the jet.”
I don’t have time to argue with him. This is what I need and I’m accepting his help for my sister. The sooner I reach her, the better. I gather my things. “Thank you.”
He gives me a sad smile. “I hope she’s okay. If you need anything, call me.”
“How are you getting home?”
He shrugs. “I’ll hitchhike or maybe I’ll go to my office, work, and by five one of my brothers will pick me up.”
“You can ask Jackie for a company car,” I say. “She’s on the fourth floor to your right.”
“Why are you on this floor all by yourself?”
“Goodbye, Gatsby.”