Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I pick a blueberry out of the muffin. It’s plump and sweet, and still warm. I notice idly that my finger’s stained with berry juice. Silently, he reaches for my hand and licks the juice off the tip. My heartbeat races. Why does everything he does to me turn me on?
“Yeah,” I say, yanking my hand back so I can concentrate on filling my belly and not worrying about sex distracting us. “I had to learn to cook as a matter of survival. My father was absent more than he was present. My brother used to cook for me when he was younger.”
I remember sitting at the kitchen table, swinging my legs because I was too short to reach the floor. “Carlos learned how to make huevos pericos, a kind of scrambled eggs with tomato and onion, and arepas with cheese.”
But that was when I was little, it feels like a full lifetime ago.
Ollie’s eyes darken. He doesn’t like when I talk about Carlos fondly. How can I help it? He was good to me back then.
“I want to tell you what happened, but you don’t seem to like when I talk about Carlos.”
He shakes his head. “You should be able to tell me anything. I’m your husband. And what I think about Carlos is irrelevant.”
“It isn’t, though, Ollie,” I say pleadingly. I place my hand on his arm. I love the warm, reassuring feel of his muscles when he looks at me.
“I just don’t want you softening toward him. It won’t do, Renata. You must be ruthless, fearless, and as impassive as you can to keep yourself and the people you love safe.”
And right there and then, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he just gave me a little glimpse into what it means to be him, didn’t he?
Maybe we both don’t have to be that way.
“When we were kids, Carlos was different. He was my older brother, but I always felt like I was his protector. He was different… in not a good way.”
I pause, trying to figure out how to continue.
“I understand,” he says. “We all came from fucked up backgrounds, didn’t we?”
I nod and swallow. We did. We have.
“He was always so angry and controlling, like a mini version of my father. I didn’t realize how bad it was until… until the day he hurt another child. Badly.”
Ollie’s jaw tightens. “What happened?”
“Carlos got into a fight with a neighbor’s child over something stupid. He pushed him down the stairs. I watched. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t. He knew exactly what he was doing.” I shake my head. I can still hear the boy’s cries for help, still feel myself grasping for thin air too late. “The boy was in the hospital for weeks. He broke his back.”
“Jesus,” Ollie mutters.
“My father covered it up, of course,” I say, unable to hide the bitterness from my voice. “He paid off the family, bribed the local law enforcement and his men made the press stay quiet. But I never forgot. That day I knew what he was capable of.”
Ollie nods quietly. “I understand.”
“But he never raised a hand to me. Everyone treated me very well in school, and if they even hinted at any less, all that had to happen was someone reminding them who my brother was, and it stopped. He was gentle with me. Protective.”
Just like Ollie.
In sharing this story with him, I realize why I fear Ollie’s dark side so much.
At some point, will Ollie turn on me too? I’ve seen how obsession and protection can morph into something dangerous.
“I get it,” Ollie says gently. “I’ve seen things in my brothers and my father that were similar.”
I don’t know about his father, but I know that at least his brothers didn’t turn on him.
“It was hard,” I tell him, shaking my head as if somehow the gesture will make it go away. “Still is. I’ve always felt responsible somehow, like it was my fault he is the way he is. As if I could have done something, anything to stop him.”
“You were just a child,” he says gently. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I shake my head and sigh. “But so was he.”
“I know. Thank you for telling me though. It helps me to understand what we’re dealing with here.”
I nod, feeling a strange sense of relief at having shared this with him. “There’s more. I want you to know that Carlos has a motive. This isn’t just about power or control but about revenge. His worst actions have always been fueled by revenge.”
“Revenge for what?” Ollie asks, his eyes narrowed.
“For everything. For the way my father treated him. The way the world treated him. He blames everyone and everything for his problems, and he wants to make everyone pay. He takes no accountability for his choices, it’s always someone else’s fault.”