Page 51 of Rune
I couldn’t even fathom that.
Even when my brother and I took off to try to forge our own path, our immediate family was always calling, texting, demanding to come visit or have us come home. And no matter the distance between us—both literal or figurative—I knew every single one of my aunts, uncles, or cousins would drop everything and come running if I said I needed something.
Once Sofia was off on the other coast, who was going to look out for Carmen?
“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, climbing off my bike.
She shrugged it off but I could see the pain in her eyes.
“You have something here,” I said, reaching out to rub at something green and hard near her hairline.
“Stupid mud mask,” she said, shaking her head.
“My sister used to put those on all the time. Dried so hard she could barely open her mouth to talk. Yeah, that’s not coming off.”
“I am covered in so many different oils you could probably fry a chicken on me. But Hammy didn’t want to wait until I showered to go out. She’s looking for Sofia.”
“Where is your sister?”
“You won’t believe this. Or, since you met her, maybe you will. She went out for coffee with her masseuse.”
“I can believe that. But, why bother when she’s leaving?”
“She’s just a people person, I guess. It’s something that has been good for her career, at least. Even if it constantly makes me worry about her. Shouldn’t we have checked out by now?”
“Check-out was at eleven,” I told her.
“Eleven? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I planned on staying one more day anyway. Figured you guys needed a chance to really unwind before going back.”
“You could have asked, though.”
“This is another of those things where it’s already done and you can just relax and enjoy things.”
“What if I didn’t have enough clothes?”
My gaze slid down, then back up, loving how her eyes immediately went hazy with desire. “Don’t see a problem with that.” She pretended to be annoyed by that, rolling her eyes at me. “But you forgot, I carried that weekender bag of yours. If there aren’t extra clothes in there, then you’re carting around your whole bedding set.”
“I have clothes.”
“So you’re just being difficult for the fun of it, huh?”
“It’s not difficult. I just—”
“Are fundamentally incapable of accepting some help?” I filled in for her. I threw an arm over her shoulders. “You gotta work on that,” I said, pulling her away from the hotel.
“Where are we going?”
“Food.”
“Why?”
“Because you gotta eat. And I already picked out a place so you don’t gotta worry about making that decision either.”
I could feel her gaze on me, could sense her inner battle to snark at me about being able to make her own decisions against her pleasure at having someone else lift some of the burden. Even in the smallest of ways.
I just lucked out that she loved Italian.
