Page 78 of Devil's Thirst
When the pitter-patter of rain sounds on the window, I abandon the movie plan and let the cleansing spring shower wash over my tormented thoughts.
I have to find a way to decide what to do about Sante. He stalked me, hid his identity, manipulated me in numerous ways, and still managed to make me fall in love with him. I realize now that it’s true.
I’ve fallen in love with my stalker.
The boy with torment in his eyes and ferocity in his heart.
I fell for him, but now I question whether it was all manipulation like some offshoot of Stockholm syndrome. How do I know my own true feelings versus what he manufactured? Can I ever trust him to be transparent with me?
That question isn’t a mystery. The answer is no. If he feels like something will upset me and he can fix it without causing me worry, he’ll take that option every time. What Icantrust is that he’ll keep me safe and devote himself to my happiness every day of his life.
Is that so terrible?
After all that I’ve been through, Sante’s brand of love sounds like the sense of belonging I’ve always prayed for. If our quirks align such that we naturally give one another what we need, shouldn’t that be enough? Maybe that’s all anyone is looking for.
Maybe normal is a myth, and healthy is relative.
I open my hand, realizing Sante’s ring is still balled in my fist, and study the aging piece of metal. The ring itself is worthless, but what it represents is priceless beyond measure. It’s the evidence of what can happen when two broken souls find refuge in one another.
Am I willing to throw that away?
Hell, no.
The answer echoes in my mind with resounding certainty. I flinch at the mere thought of living my life without Sante. He’s nonnegotiable because Santeismy happiness. If I deny myself him and all he entails, I’ll be the only one to blame.
I couldn’t choose my parents.
I had no control over being trafficked or my kidnapping.
But this ismychoice, and I choose happiness.
CHAPTER 37
SANTE
My sister isthe last thing I want to deal with right now. If Conner hadn’t been so pissed and Amelie so insistent on space, I never would have left that apartment. We were turning a corner. I could feel it. Instead of resolving our issues, I’m out in the rain about to get my ass handed to me for a second time today. The only two women in this world that I love, and I’ve hurt both of them.
The only thing darker than my mood is the sky overhead. Damn clouds came out of nowhere, just like my problems. Everything was gravy one minute, then shit the next.
The downward spiral continues when I get to Noemi’s place. There’s a severity to the atmosphere that charges the air. A quiet stillness that makes me feel like one wrong step will end in my beheading.
“The kids still napping?” I ask Conner as we step into the living room.
“My mom ended up taking them for the day.” He walks me to where Noemi sits on the sofa, a steaming mug in her hands.
Her face is blotchy, eyes puffy from crying. I knew as much. Conner had said so on the phone. He also said if I didn’t come over and “get my head out of my ass”—his words, not mine—hewould do the job himself. The way he’s shooting daggers at me confirms that he’s yet to cool down. What I don’t understand is why. I’m not as present as I could be, but there are worse crimes. Why do they both seem so worked up?
“Hey, Em. I’m sorry I forgot to come by earlier. I’ve had a lot going on.” I sit next to her, my body angled toward hers. It makes me think of all the times we watched movies together as kids.
A twinge of regret twists painfully in my chest.
Noemi smiles through her tears. “I’m sorry to be a pain, but I really needed to talk to you.”
“What’s up? The kids okay?”
“The kids are fine. And despite how it looks, I’m good, too.” She gives her husband a look that must signal him to leave us alone, though he only removes himself as far as the kitchen table. I wouldn’t leave either if I were him.
“You don’t look fine. I’m sorry if I’m the reason. I know I haven’t stayed in contact like I should have,” I admit quietly.