We Don't Talk Anymore (The Don't Duet #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,29
flinch as he pats my cheek. He smirks, clearly enjoying himself. “There’s a good boy.” His eyes flicker to his partner. “Let him go, Barboza.”
The giant drops me without hesitation. Gasping for much-needed air, I collapse forward like a rag doll. My uncooperative limbs refuse to catch me in time. My bare knees and palms jolt against the rough pavement, leaving a considerable chunk of skin behind. Pain sears through me as blood wells to the surface. I’m so grateful all my bones are intact, I barely register it.
By the time I manage to catch my breath and clamber back to my feet, the men are gone. Except for a brood of hungry ducklings quacking for dinner in the pond beside the parking lot, I’m totally alone in the quiet. I blink rapidly, trying to get ahold of myself. Trying to slow my thudding pulse. Trying to forget the paralyzing terror that’s defined the past few minutes.
Moving very slowly, I shut the tailgate, climb into the cab, and start the engine. I drive home in total silence, stopping at every red light, never pushing the gas above the speed limit. All the while pretending not to notice how my bleeding hands tremble against the leather steering wheel.
“You missed dinner.”
I stop halfway down the hall, then backtrack toward the living room. “Ma, I didn’t even see you. What are you doing sitting in the dark?”
“Qué tonto eres. Waiting for you. What else? Now, sit and spend a little time with your mother. I won’t be here forever, you know.”
Rolling my eyes, I ease into the rickety armchair across from hers. “That’s a bit dramatic.”
“Dramatic would be me yelling about you getting blood on the living room furniture.” She pauses carefully. “What happened to your knees?”
I sigh. My mother’s brown eyes may be soft in appearance but they are sharp in focus. They miss no small detail. “I tripped in the parking lot after practice.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.” She crosses her arms over her chest — the classic maternal interrogation pose. “You’ve never been clumsy.”
“First time for everything, I guess. I wasn’t paying attention. My bag strap tangled around my legs. Before I knew it, I was on my ass in front of the entire team. Everyone laughed.” I rub the back of my neck sheepishly. “I’m just happy the scouts weren’t there to see it.”
My mother watches me for a long moment, weighing my words in silence. Finally, she tilts her head to the side and says, quite softly, “Mijo, don’t lie to me.”
I push to my feet. “It’s no big deal, Ma, honestly. I didn’t even realize I was bleeding until you pointed it out. Let me go clean up.” I drop a quick kiss on her cheek, pretending not to see the skeptical purse of her lips. I swear, the woman is a human lie detector.
“When you’re done cleaning up from your fall…” She lets the word dangle for a beat. “There’s dinner on the stove. I made asopao.”
My stomach rumbles, suddenly ravenous. I haven’t eaten all day. “You know that’s my favorite. Thanks, Ma.”
“If you must know, I made it for Josephine. She was in quite a state this morning. No thanks to you.”
I stop in my tracks.
What, exactly, did Jo say to my mother?
Glancing back, I find Ma watching me with an unreadable expression. For a moment, I wonder if Jo told her about last night — Ryan, Sienna, the whole enchilada. If so, I’m about to get a proper ass-whooping.
“What do you mean?” I ask carefully.
“What do I mean?” Ma scoffs. “She was so hungover she could barely drag herself out of bed!”
A wave of relief sweeps through me. I’d happily take a grounding for underage drinking to avoid discussing the many complexities of my relationship with Jo. “And that’s somehow my fault?”
“Of course it is! Josephine is a good girl. She wouldn’t be out all night at a party if you hadn’t dragged her there.”
“You always take her side. You realize that, don’t you?”
“Always is an overstatement. I only take her side when I know she found herself in trouble because of you. Which, I must say, has been happening for as long as you two have been friends.”
“So I’m a bad kid. A bad influence. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying that girl would do just about anything to make you happy. You know that. You’ve known it since you were small.” She pauses. “You could ask her for the moon, she’d do