Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“You don’t know the half of it…” I muttered.
“You’re right, I don’t. I’m not the one being attacked. You are. But you can’t let these people change who you are. You cannot allow them to make you cold.”
“What if I already was cold?” I asked. “What if this is just who I am? A monster?”
Tatiana smiled, stretched her arm across the table, and patted my hand. Just. Like. Teresa.
My monstrous heart cracked a little.
“You’re not a monster, Alex. A monster would never question that. You know what I see when I look at you?”
“What’s that?”
“A sad, scared little boy who has been hurt too much by this world.”
How did she do that? How did she see the parts of me that I worked so hard to keep hidden from the rest of the world? I felt it yesterday, too, with Yara. She saw it. It slipped out. I knew why she asked me if I was okay—my hard shell cracked, and my true hurt spilled out. For a split second, she saw my mess, and instead of twisting the knife, she offered compassion.
Why, though? Why was she so…nice?
“A friendly tip?” Tatiana offered.
“Go for it.”
“Don’t push away the ones who were never cruel. That’s where true loneliness comes from. Discarding the good ones because of the bad ones before them. Yara is a good one. She’s one of the few trying to make you feel at home in this silly town.”
I grimaced but knew she was right. I hated that she was right because it meant that my heart was still able to feel and not completely frozen over. I didn’t want that to happen because feelings made me distrust the rest of the world. If I didn’t feel, then I couldn’t get hurt. If I couldn’t get hurt, then I couldn’t be shattered.
A person could only take so many third-degree burns before being destroyed.
Tatiana sat back against the booth and crossed her arms. “What happened this week, Alex?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yes, you do.”
Yes, I did.
I grumbled. “I don’t want to waste your time.”
“My time isn’t being wasted. Speak. Now.”
Even with her demands, they felt so gentle. Soaked in care. Why did this woman seem to genuinely care about me when she had no clue who I’d been? Why was she so kind? She reminded me of…
Teresa.
Of…
Yara.
Crap.
I was a jerk.
Yara deserved an apology.
I deserved a kick in my ass.
“My great-aunt passed away. The other day when I snapped was her funeral. She was the only family I had left that I still spoke to. I’m just trying to process it all.”
Tatiana’s eyes widened as if trying to absorb the weight of the information I’d delivered. Her brows furrowed as her mouth slightly parted, and her bottom lip quivered.
There was momentary stillness as she processed the news. Tears flooded her eyes with a profound sadness mixed with disbelief. She was heartbroken over a woman she hadn’t even known.
Wait, no.
She was heartbroken for me.
Her sadness made me sadder.
“She’s gone?” she asked me, her voice shaky. “I didn’t know…I thought…I, uh, I’m so sorry, Alex,” she cried.
“It’s okay,” I told her, feeling odd that she grew so emotional over a stranger.
She shook her head and wiped away the tears falling from her face. “No. It’s not. I’m so sorry, Alex. I know what it’s like to go through that kind of loss.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t have family?”
She smiled, yet it was a broken kind of smile. The kind that looked more like a frown. She shook her head. “Family is what you make of it. This town is my family. I’ve lost a lot, though. I’m the last remaining member of my family line. I had a…” Her words faltered and she shook her head. “Let’s just say, I know that struggle. Maybe that’s why I felt drawn to you. Because I see the younger version of me in your eyes.”
“She was like you, you know,” I told her. “My great-aunt.”
She sat straighter, wiping her tears. “Insanely charismatic and beautiful?”
I chuckled. “Loud, weird, and bossy. Nosy, too, and ridiculously invested in other people’s lives.” I took a breath. “And insanely charismatic and beautiful.”
“See?” she whispered, leaning in toward me. “A monster could never say anything so sweet.”
The comfort she was giving felt too heavy for me to take in. I wasn’t certain how to handle it, so I stood. “I should get back to work.”
“Yes, okay. And I’ll stop yelling at you until later,” she joked as she stood.
Then she hugged me, and I allowed it. I almost forgot what hugs felt like until she and Noah reminded me.
When she pulled away, she patted my cheek. “Sweet boy.”
It was as if she constantly told me I was good for her words to imprint on my self-consciousness. Teresa used to do the same things. My parents weren’t the best. My mother dipped out early on when we lived in Chicago, and my father dropped me off at Teresa’s doorstep in Madrid when I was ten so he could pursue his career. No one that young should’ve been used to people leaving so often. Teresa made sure to be a person who stayed.