Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Diego was watching me, and when I met his eyes again, I thought he wanted to ask me what out-of-character things I’d been doing lately but was too polite to.
Thank god.
We watched the movie in silence for a few minutes. My feet were still bare after the bath, and I pulled them up on the couch next to me. That made me lean more toward Diego, and he swung his arm around my shoulders.
And it felt right, somehow. And very different then last time I’d been this close to him on a sofa. That had been fast and frantic and desperate. This was about friendship and comfort.
After a few more minutes, I leaned my head against him.
“Tired?” His arm tightened around me.
“Yes. It was a long week. But it ended well.” I looked up and his face was right there, his mouth close to mine. My gaze fell to his lips, but then I made myself look away. If I ever got kissed by Diego again, I wanted for us both to want it, not just because we were drunk or because we’d accidentally bumped heads.
With effort, I focused on the movie again without actually taking any of it in. Diego leaned in, pressing his lips softly against my head and inhaled deeply. “Your hair smells so good,” he murmured. “It almost smells like—"
He went completely rigid next to me, and everything changed in a heartbeat.
"What—" I started to say, but then he was pulling away, practically launching himself off the sofa.
"It was you." His voice was rough, shocked. He was staring at me like he'd never seen me before. "At the Halloween party. It was you."
My stomach dropped straight through the floor. All the blood seemed to drain from my face as I met his wide, horrified eyes.
"Diego—"
"God, I never thought—” He ran a hand through his hair, practically pulling a handful of it out. "I didn't mean to—I never would have…"
I hugged my knees to my chest. This was it, the moment I’d been fearing for weeks. "It's okay," I said quickly, trying to keep my voice steady even though my heart was hammering against my ribs. "You didn’t do anything wrong."
“But I did.” He let out a harsh laugh that made me flinch. "It’s all coming back.” His face flushed and he seemed to be looking inward. “The way I kissed you. The way I touched you, and right in the middle of a fucking party.”
“We both were—” I got to my feet, and he took a step back, like I was radioactive,
“Shit!” He turned away.
“Diego?” He had his back to me. "You didn't do anything wrong," I insisted, but he wasn't listening.
"This is so fucked up." He was pacing now, three steps to the window and three steps back. "You've been living in the house this whole time, and I had no idea. No wonder you seemed so damn uncomfortable around me in the beginning."
"At first, yes, but not now. Diego, please—"
"I'm supposed to be looking out for you. All of you. That's my job, my responsibility, and instead I—" He gestured helplessly between us. "I fucked up.”
I’d never heard him speak about himself this way, and I didn’t like it now. “Nothing’s changed between us,” I began.
"Of course it has." His laugh was bitter. "God, what you must think of me."
His self-recrimination was over the top, but I’d seen that kind of thing before. Many foster kids had been yelled at so much over the years that we eventually took over the job ourselves. Sara had always had big reactions when she felt she did something wrong. Maybe that was part of why she’d turned to drugs.
I reached for Diego, intending to touch his arm, but he pulled away.
“Don’t,” he said.
I stared at him unhappily, but before I could think of the right words to use to get him to snap out of it, a thin wail came from the direction of the nursery. Evidently, Liam had woken up from the raised voice.
"Shit," Diego muttered, already heading toward the hallway. "I'll get him." He stopped just before disappearing down the hall. “If I’d known… if I hadn’t been so goddamn drunk…”
“It’s okay,” I said softly.
“No, it’s not.” His voice was equally soft.
Then I was alone in the living room, staring at the spot where he’d just been.
For weeks, I’d been worried about this moment, thinking that it would be awkward and embarrassing. But I never dreamed he’d react this strongly.
I couldn’t just sit there while he kept looking at me like I was a dog he’d kicked. We’d both been at that party. We’d both been drinking. We’d both had our hands and mouths all over each other.
Gathering up my shoes and my bag, I stepped out onto Paul’s front porch. My hands shook as I closed the door behind me. The night air was cool against my flushed skin, and I sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm down.