Page 79 of Scars of the Sun
“Go back to bed, Princess,” Río said harshly and spat in the toilet. His words echoed within the roundness of the bowl as he clung to the side of it.
I stayed put. “No.” His alarm was still ringing beside the bed, no telling how late he was going to be for work now. If he even wanted to go.
“Ramona,” he barked, and I froze.
“I’m not leaving?—”
“¡Escúchame!” He raised his voice, and I dropped my grasp of his hair. It fell in a tangled heap on his back. Río jutted his chin toward the door, “I gotta clean up and go to work. Put on some of my clothes if you need.”
My chin wobbled, but I did as he said. He clearly didn’t want me to bear witness to this, but why couldn’t I see this part of him? What did I do wrong?
I swept my wrists over my eyes, clearing another welling of tears, and trudged up to the loft. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from whining again at the sight of the ruined nest. Dismantling it made me sad, but seeing it all damaged was worse. Only one of the pillows survived the wrath of Río’s night terror, so I set it against the headboard. I threw the ripped comforter and blankets onto the floor and shoved on his hoodie that was two sizes too big for me. Eight puncture holes in the arc of Río’s hands were visible on the navy sheets, but I didn’t have the energy to fully strip the bed. I pulled a pair of basketball shorts from his dresser and slipped them on. He was being a fucking asshole, but being in his clothes comforted me all the same. I ran a hand over my mark and breathed a little deeper.
Río came back up the steps and paused. His jaw ticked while he barely looked at the bed, his scent a churning wash of emotions. None of them were happy, and I wanted to cry all over again.
He sighed, “I’ll buy more stuff for the bed later.”
While he dressed for work, I sat on the couch, watching the cleared sky through the windows and tried to figure out what the fuck to do. Río’s curdled shame and my own grief for our nest were making it hard to think, but what I knew for sure was that I wanted to be here for when we fixed it.
RÍO
I kicked the walk-in closed, balancing fresh ingredients to replenish what was empty on the line, only to have the shredded mozzarella topple to the floor. A scatter of white cheese dusted the floor and my shoes, but all I could do was sigh and trudge through it to set the rest down.
I had a mate for less than a week, and I’d already fucked up.
It was fucking Xiomara coming around, bringing me into our dad’s bullshit. The night terrors used to be really bad, but through the years, they’d let up. And since I’d been with Ramona, they’d been nonexistent.
So, why fucking now?
I didn’t even want to run anymore. I just wanted to forget the Serafim name, all that came with it, and just recall my adolescent years as a blank spot to skip over. Frankly, everything between leaving Mamá’s house on my tenth birthday and meeting Ramona was pretty much irrelevant. Living with her, walking alongside my Princess, was what I wanted to do. What I needed. And why the fuck couldn’t I finally have that?
My throat choked up while I swept the floor. I’d ruined the nest she made for us, demolishing the gesture and honeymoon bubble we’d been in. It was hard to even look at her, knowingthat she sensed every pathetic thing I felt about her seeing me that way.
The rest of my shift passed in a blur of one annoying and fucked up hour into another. It still beat following my father’s orders, no matter how brutal, but customer service was its own sort of hell. Even when I was a step removed as a manager.
I’d walked to work to give myself space to think, but when I returned home, the sight of my truck snagged my attention. How was I going to make it up to Ramona? She hadn’t texted or called, and if I were her, I’d probably be hiding out at my brother’s to get away from the problems I’d already caused. And she didn’t know the full extent of the shitstorm Mara would bring when she learned about this.
Unless I got us out of here before then. Yeah, another thing to drop on my mate.
“Fuck,” I muttered and unlocked my truck. The conversations needed to happen. I wasn’t so much of an asshole to sweep what happened this morning under the rug.
But running to the grocery store felt much more tangible with the swirl of emotions I was already feeling. I wasn’t a spectacular cook, but some of Mamá’s more simple recipes were ingrained in me. Ceviche de camarón didn’t involve using the stove at all, and tostadas were easy enough to make. By the time I left and returned to the apartment, I could smell Ramona’s presence inside. Had she stayed the whole time? I’d been so worried when I got in my truck earlier, I was too scared to truly check.
Now, with arms weighed down by the guilty shopping I’d done, I felt like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Stepping inside the small apartment, I was hit with the scent ofus. This wasn’t just my home anymore, was it? We hadn’t really discussed if she’d be moving in, but the spicy-sweet of ourunion was home. My muscles relaxed, my mind further cleared. Tears collected in my eyes.
Home.
And when Ramona poked her head out from the loft to peer down at me, I almost dropped everything to race up to her. Becauseshewas the true home. This apartment and this stuff didn’t matter as long as I had her.
She scowled down at me, but I saw the softness she held in her lips. The worry in her honey eyes.
I glanced around the apartment, noticing now that it looked pristine. The damn floor sparkled. Now, I wasn’t a slob, but I damn sure hadn’t mopped once since I moved in. The books I usually had scattered wherever I had been reading or sketching at the moment were in a neat stack on the coffee table. Even the fucking windows looked cleaned.
Oh, she was pissed.
I cleared my throat and headed to the kitchen area. “Hey, Princess.” Why did I feel like I was standing before a firing squad? Or facing down with Mara, armed with everything she could do and her fucking katana while all I had were my claws. Nah, I braced myself as she descended the steps, and I busied myself with unpacking the paper grocery bags. This was much scarier.