I thought that was telling, and I sent him a sympathetic look as we made our way to the house.
“I can relate to that,” I told him quietly. “My mom once tried to kick me out of the house because I told one of her boyfriends that he wasn’t my dad.” I swallowed, finding it hard to tell him the story, for some strange reason. It wasn’t as though it was a sensitive subject for me. “I was eight at the time.”
He stopped and grabbed my hand, a world of understanding in his eyes. “I see more and more why we took to each other so quickly. We’ve been through a lot of the same things. It’s…nice to have someone that just understands.”
I squeezed his hand, losing myself a little in his golden eyes. “It is nice.”
It felt like we shared a moment of perfect understanding, but it was short lived, as the front door opened, Jared poking his smiling face out.
“Hey!” he called out. “The food is ready. Good timing. Get in here.” He popped his head back inside, rather reminding me of Ivan for a moment.
I liked Jared, but I didn’t quite get him. He could be like a carefree kid at times, and almost too intense at others. I felt like I was missing some piece of the puzzle where he was concerned. He was so much easier than Tristan, in ways, but he worried me more, though I couldn’t have said just why. One thing was certain; neither men were a puzzle that I expected to solve any time soon.
Tristan let go of my hand, which left me feeling a little bereft. I could admit to myself that I loved it when he held my hand. It made me feel so connected to him, for such a small contact.
He didn’t leave me like that for long, his hand moving to the small of my back in a light caress that nudged me forward with him. “You’re going to love my mother, but more than that, you’re going to die for her enchiladas.”
The house we walked into was crowded but colorful, the walls painted brightly, but a little too cramped with furniture and knick-knacks.
His mother was a surprise to me, for several reasons. She was young, or at least she looked very young. She could have maybe passed for Jared and Tristan’s older sister, rather than their mother. The biggest surprise by far, though, was that she was very obviously Hispanic, with a thick accent. I’d always just thought of the brothers as big white boys.
“Mama, this is my friend, Danika. Danika, this is my mother, Leticia.” He accented the name in a way I’d never heard him speak before, immediately showing me a touch of his Latin side.
I blinked, thrown for a bit of a loop.
Leticia was beautiful. There was a very obvious resemblance between the three of them. Their features all had a similar, striking cast, thought her eyes were black, and her skin was a few shades darker. Her thick black hair fell in heavy waves to her mid-back.
She gave me a smile, and it was lovely, but I noticed that Tristan must have gotten those dimples of his somewhere else.
She hugged me like family, kissing me on both cheeks. “So lovely to meet you, Danika. You may call me Mama, if you like. I never get to meet any of the girls Tristan spends time with. You must be special.”
I caught Tristan shaking his head out of the corner of my eye.
“I wonder why I never bring any girls here…Really, Mama. Don’t embarrass her.”
“If she chooses to spend a lot of time with you, I doubt she’s easily embarrassed,” Leticia shot back.
I thought she had a good point.
“Dinner’s getting cold,” Jared pointed out from the doorway that led into a divine smelling dining room.
The table was small, but loaded with food.
“I’ll do clean up, Mama,” Tristan said, pulling out two chairs from the table, and nodding his mother and I into each, “since I missed helping out on all the prep.”
“Gracias, mijomiho,” she said, shooting him a very fond smile.
“Brown-noser,” Jared muttered, from his seat directly opposite of me. I shot him a wry smile for that one. It’s like he’d read my mind.
Tristan sat to my right, and for some crazy reason, I felt his big hand squeeze my knee after he sat down. I shot him a rather shocked glare, and he removed it just as quickly as he’d placed it there, his expression completely innocent. If he wanted to play the teasing game, I thought I had a distinct advantage. I wasn’t the one that needed to jack off in the shower five times a day.
I shook myself out of that distracting thought process as everyone began to dish out the food. Leticia had a heaping serving on my plate before I could tell her it was too much.
The cheese enchiladas already had my mouth watering when Tristan spooned some black beans and rice onto my plate, and Leticia followed it with scoops of fresh pico de gallo, guacamole, and sour cream. Mother and son were tag-team overfeeding me, and I kind of loved it.
Leticia blessed the food, and I dug in eagerly. The first bite of the enchiladas had me closing my eyes, and I didn’t even try to stifle my moan of pleasure. Enchiladas were my favorite, and these ones were a perfect combination of…everything. I thought it was the sauce that made it so perfect.
Tristan’s big hand squeezing my knee again was what it finally took to get me to open my eyes. He was staring at me, and the look in his eyes was downright sinful. I swallowed, my jaw going a little slack with want as the hand on my knee caressed me, moving just a touch higher. I was wearing shorts, so it was skin on skin, and more than a little distracting.
I quickly snapped out of his little spell, glancing at Leticia and Jared. I was vastly relieved to see that they weren’t paying attention to us, instead digging into their own food with gusto.
I took another bite, shooting him a glance. He was still rubbing my knee, and for some asinine reason, I wasn’t pushing his hand away. Even more asinine, my left hand moved to cover his under the table, rubbing over his knuckles softly, then harder. I thought about touching him way more than I actually touched him, and so when I did, it always seemed to escalate way too fast. His hand was moving higher, and my own traitorous hand was only encouraging it, kneading his fingers harder into my thigh.
“So good, right?” Jared asked loudly, and I pushed Tristan’s hand away, my face turning bright pink.
“So good,” I agreed, meaning it, as I took another bite.
“The best,” Jared added.
“Hands down,” Tristan agreed.
I nodded, though I secretly thought that Tristan’s had been just as good.
Leticia flushed with pleasure. “I have the sweetest sons in the world, don’t I, Danika?”
I bit my tongue from making a sarcastic comment, playing nice instead. “They’re both very sweet.”
“A mother couldn’t ask for more.”
I was oddly touched when I caught the soft smile Tristan gave her for that comment.
Dessert consisted of stiff margaritas, which I thought said a lot. This family could drink, tiny mother included.
I was stuffed, and just a touch tipsy when the meal ended. I found myself lounging on a comfortable sofa in the TV room that directly connected to the kitchen, as Tristan and his mother cleaned up after dinner. I had a clear view of mother and son working in the kitchen together.
Jared joined me on the couch, sitting close, making a point to follow my gaze to his brother. “He’s a good guy,” he said quietly. “A good brother. He’s had my back since I can remember, even if I was in the wrong.”
“He’s always looked out for you,” I guessed.
“He can’t seem to help himself.”
“That’s what big brothers are for,” I explained.
Jared studied me. “You say that like you can relate. Are you a big sister?”
A familiar pain pinched at my chest. That pain never seemed to lessen. Time hadn’t done a thing to numb it, which was why I supposed I did my best never to think about my little sister.
I swallowed hard, his prying not making me want to lash out, as it would have with Tristan. I felt no compunctions about lashing out at Tristan, but somehow I did with Jared. It felt like Jared and I were on equal footing, but somehow, even at his sweetest and most amiable, I always felt that Tristan had the upper hand, and in a way, that made it hard for me to open up to him.
I kept my eyes on Tristan where he was helping his mother in the other room, and my voice very impersonal. “I am. I have a younger sister, but I’m not like Tristan. I tried my best, but I was a shitty big sister.”
I didn’t look at him, but Jared sounded very sympathetic as he asked, “What happened?”
I shook my head, surprised that I actually answered the question. “Too much to go back from. She loathes me, and I don’t blame her. We haven’t spoken in years.”
“Where does she live?”
“I couldn’t say. She asked me never to contact her again, and I’ve respected that request.” I didn’t have words to express how hard that had been for me, to be utterly rejected by the only person in the world I’d considered real family. I’d loved her so much, but it hadn’t been enough to keep me from failing her.
“How long ago was that?”
“Four years ago.”
“Damn. How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Me too,” he said. I’d known his age, courtesy of Tristan, but Jared sounded surprised about mine. “So all of this went down when you were seventeen? How old was she?”
I swallowed, surprised that, of all of his probing questions, that one was the sorest wound. “Just fifteen. Just a baby.”
“Don’t you think enough time has passed for things to blow over? I’ll bet she’s not even mad anymore. You should try to find her.”
I shook my head, not even considering the notion. Dahlia’s rejection hadn’t been about anger. It had been about betrayal, disgust, and contempt, and I didn’t blame her for any of it. “It’s not as simple as that.” My voice was quiet, my tone final.
His hand clasping my own startled me enough to make me start violently, but I didn’t push it away. I didn’t look at him, because there was nothing on earth I wanted less than sympathy, and seeing it directed at me always inspired unpredictable results, but still, I let his hand comfort me for just a moment.
“I think you’re too hard on yourself, Danika.”
I’d heard that line before. Exhaustively, from Lucy, and Bev, and even a few times, Jerry. Everyone was always telling me that I was too hard on myself, apparently even people that I barely knew these days, thought so. If they were all right about that, I still didn’t know what to do about it. I’d made some healthy changes for myself over the years, which had been largely instigated by the persistent Lucy, but I couldn’t begin to know how to change something so fundamental to my nature. The fact was, I expected a lot from myself, and I was often disappointed.
Tristan turned, getting a good look at his brother and I, sitting close and clutching hands. Of course he’d look just then, I thought wryly. I saw his jaw tighten, and knew he wasn’t happy with what he saw.
Still, I was surprised when he strode right to us, his eyes boring straight into Jared.