Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“And he listened? Doesn’t sound like a psychopath to me.”
Am I really about to say this part out loud? The margarita I’ve already had says that yes, yes I am. “When he was doing those things, and when we were close. Wh-when I said no, I felt like …” My voice drops to a whisper, the shame killing my volume. “I felt like saying yes. And he knew that. Somehow, he knew, and he used it against me.”
“Vicious, driven, and cocky. Definitely sounds like Mateo.” He sighs. “He knows because there’s a connection between you. I haven’t even seen the bastard, and I can feel the heat between you two when you talk about him. It’s not just sexual either, is it? The way you talk about him, the way you just stare off at nothing like a silly little thing—I know you’re thinking about him more often than you aren’t. You’re wondering and wanting to know more.”
“But that’s just it. I know these bits and pieces of him—the violence, the dominance, the ego, the cruelty. I thought that was all there was. But there’s more. He’s clearly a good brother to you—”
“‘Good’ might be pushing it,” he deadpans.
I roll my eyes. “You love each other. That’s a huge thing, because just a few days ago, I would’ve said Mateo isn’t capable of loving anyone.”
“He can love.” Lito settles back against his pillow. “And when he does, he loves hard. Sonny, Benny, and Red—he’d go through hell and back for them. Same for me. And the more you tell me about how he’s been with you, it makes me wonder if maybe—”
“He doesn’t love me, Lito. He doesn’t even know me. We’ve never had a real conversation. Unless you count threats and humiliation as conversation.”
“With him, I mean, yeah. That doesn’t sound far-fetched. Like I said, all he does is give me shit, but he also loves me.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Sounds abusive.”
“Only if you’re a pussy.”
I laugh and elbow him. “Yeah, that’s not unhealthy or anything.”
“Healthy or not, it’s the way he is. Fierce in all things.”
“Fierce is a good word for him.”
“It’s a good word for you, too.” He turns to look at me, the sheet mask on his face giving him a mummy vibe. “I can see it. At first, I didn’t, but the cozier we’ve gotten, the more I know you’ve got some steel in your backbone and a fire in your gut. That’s what you need to show him.”
“So he can lose his temper and choke me out? No thanks.”
“Just the opposite. You know how they say to punch a bully in the nose and all that?”
“Yeah.” I don’t think I like where this is going.
“I’m not saying you should literally punch him, but I can guarantee if you give his own shit back to him, he’s going to respect it. If you don’t snap back, he’ll keep pushing you. That’s his way. It’s like he’s testing you. He’ll keep pushing you, and you can either roll over and take it or dish it right back to him.”
“Why all the games? It’s exhausting.”
“Think of it as his way of getting to know you.” He smiles wistfully. “I remember the night he pulled Red out of a dumpster. Mateo, Sonny, and I had been out drinking, and we wandered down an alley to take a piss. Then we heard ‘mmmmmmfffffff’ and moaning, then saw bright red hair poking out of the top of a dumpster. Red was stuck, beat to hell and back, and stank to high heaven. Only fifteen years old. We pulled him out, and Mateo put him under his wing, practically adopting him into the family.”
“Where were his parents?”
“Who knows? The little shit had been in and out of foster care for years and had finally run away. He ended up on the street fighting for scraps and getting his ass kicked right and left. Mateo made sure that never happened again.” He sighs. “All that said, remember that Mateo’s an asshole. Nothing has been able to change that in all the years I’ve known him. But—and this is a big but—he’s my asshole. He’ll give me two tons of shit, but if anyone else dares look at me wrong, or judge me, or hurt me?” He whistles from a high to a low pitch. “Mateo would become their nightmare. He wouldn’t rest until he exacted every bit of vengeance he could.”
“Why does his love always have to be terrifying?”
He finishes his margarita and puts the glass—sans coaster—onto Mateo’s nightstand. “Because he’s fierce, remember? He loves just as fiercely as he does everything else.”
“He doesn’t love me, Lito. And I hate him.” My eyes grow heavy, my body melting into the warm bed. “Besides, all this fierceness and meanness is a fucked-up way to get to know someone.”