Page 70 of Tainted Blood

“Don’t make me your hero. If it wasn’t for you and Thalia, I would’ve left him for dead.”

She flinches. “Still, I’m grateful.”

For once, I don’t refill my glass. Instead, I stare at her, trying to decode her odd behavior. Lola was born with a crown of confidence. All this nervous stalling isn’t like her.

“I’m grateful,” she repeats, exhaling a harsh breath, “because thanks to you, our baby will have a father.”

“I told you I didn’t—” Every drop of alcohol evaporates from my system as her words sink in. “What did you just say?”

She lowers her hands. “I’m pregnant, Santi.”

My fingers tighten around my empty glass. Slowly, I set it on the table, tempering my clipped tone. “How long have you known?”

“A few weeks... I found out after the Legado shooting. They ran bloodwork, and—”

My feet hit the marble. “You were pregnant when I brought you home from the hospital?” Shoving both hands in my hair, I pace out my frustration. “Dios mío, Lola, I fucking drugged you!”

Rising to her feet, she rounds the table and blocks my path. “Santi, calm down. You didn’t know. I didn’t get the chance to tell anyone because we were…”

Taken. Kidnapped. Stolen.

All three are accurate, but like Thalia, she doesn’t talk about it. Instead, she wraps it up in something pretty, ignoring the crimson key print ribbon.

“I almost told Thalia that night, but I chickened out. I kept pouring my drinks away when she wasn’t looking.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry…”

The apology that spills out shocks me almost as much as it does Lola, judging by the look on her face. Right or wrong, I’ve always stood by my actions, never offering justification or caring for forgiveness.

Absolution meant weakness.

Wrong.

So fucking wrong.

When you come close to losing the two most important people in your life, it changes your views.

Weakness isn’t about sacrificing pride.

Weakness sacrifices love to uphold it.

She tugs at my wrists. “Santi! Would you listen to me? I don’t blame you! You did what you thought was right. We’re Carreras—we don’t exactly subscribe to normal ideals and morality. Besides, I’ve been checked out, and we’re both fine.”

Both.

As in my sister and Sanders’s baby.

A permanent link uniting them for life.

Slowly, I sink back into my chair. “You never stopped seeing him.”

It’s not a question, but she answers anyway. “Only for the six months pápa shipped me back to Mexico. Once I sweet-talked my way back to Rhode Island….” She shakes her head, leaving the rest unspoken. “Yeah, ever since.”

“Do you love him, Lola?”

The tension in her face melts into a serene smile. “More than anything.”

“Does he love you?”