Page 81 of Face Off With Fate

“What about her family?” I asked when a quiet had settled over us.

I felt him shake his head, his hair rubbing the cotton pillowcase. “No clue. There was no one there for Rachel or Goldie when my mom and I got there. Been just the two of us ever since.”

I could hear the smile in his voice at the last part.

He wasn’t asking me to share something vulnerable, but for the first time, I wanted to. With him. I swallowed, trying to force some moisture back into my dried mouth.

“I’ve never lost someone close to death, but…my father isn’t in my life. And some days it feels as if he died…” I paused, the words lodged in my throat. “Some days I wish he had.” The confession was a whisper, and I instantly wished I could shove it back.

What would he think of me for saying something like that?

“What did he do?”

What did he do. Not what did I do?

A tear prickled at the corners of my eye. I was so used to people assuming it was my fault. I took a breath, the hurt clawing at my chest. You’d think the wounds were days old rather than years. Monroe remained silent, allowing me time.

“I love my family, my culture…but there tends to be a double standard.”

“Ariella mentioned that was why she sought out the position in Dallas,” he said, turning on his side to watch me.

“Exactly.” I waved a hand, chuckling. “The space was good for them. My tío and primo can be a little overbearing, but they mean well. They also never prevented Ariella from pursuing her dreams and supported her in all her goals. But my dad…”

Silence enveloped the room for a beat.

“Since I was a little girl, I did everything he asked. Adhered to every rule, curfew, and chore. My dad said jump, and I asked how high.” I turned my head to face him. “I didn’t just used to pull my punches, I flat out didn’t throw them.”

Monroe reached out, stroking my cheek like he had the other night in his laundry room. The touch lingered for the briefest of moments, but the heat remained, warming low in my stomach.

“That doesn’t seem like you at all.”

I laughed. He’d never have recognized young Graciella.

“I don’t think I knew who I was. I just knew how to pretend to be who my father wanted me to be.” It was why I was good at PR. I knew the ins and outs of presenting what others wanted to see—or hiding what they didn’t. “I chased his approval constantly, convincing myself that when I finally made him proud, then he’d see me. Ask me what I wanted.” My voice sounded distant—trapped in the past.

“What happened?” Monroe asked, trapping my chin with his thumb and forefinger. Guiding my face toward his.

He tugged my lip from between my teeth, nodding his head for me to continue.

“I’d had a job for as long as I could remember. Every penny that didn’t go toward my share of the bills went toward saving for college. But when I turned eighteen, he told me I wasn’t going.” A tear trickled down my cheek. I hated thinking about the betrayal I’d felt. “He’d known he wasn’t letting me go, too. But for years, he let me think I’d get to go. Asshole didn’t even say a thing when I sat at the table filling out applications. Then just yanked my dream from me.”

“Couldn’t you just…go?” Monroe asked, thumbing one of my tears away. “You’re an adult at eighteen. You didn’t need their permission.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not how it worked in my household. My dad was the head of the household, and his word was law. So when he told me I didn’t belong in college, that my place was at home and working to help pay for the house, the family, that was that. God forbid you tried to tell him he was wrong.”

“That’s—”

“Fucked,” I finished. “And I did leave. I left that weekend. I’d been so heartbroken by the betrayal that I needed out. Ariella and Ricky helped me pack. My tía let me hide out at their place.”

I nuzzled into his calloused palm, my hand circling his wrist, needing to touch him back. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always, Graciella. I’ll hold all your secrets if you need.” His voice was filled with emotion I didn’t expect him to share with me.

My stomach swooped.

“I thought he’d come after me. Come find me and tell me he was sorry, that I could go to school.” My lids shut, attempting to barricade my tears. “That he was proud of me.” I let out a bitter laugh. “He didn’t. The night he told me, that was my last time speaking with him.”

Silence grew, thick and heavy. Worry built in my gut. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, that he’d judge m⁠—