Page 80 of Bad Blood

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I don’t know why I stop. I should just keep walking—only I don’t.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? You can’t choose who you fall for, Santi. The heart doesn’t care about battle lines.”

“Are you speaking from experience,chaparrita?”She’s not the only one who can throw stones.I glance over my shoulder to find her glaring at me. “Because that worked out so well for you.”

As usual, any mention of Sam Sanders and Lola’s big mouth turns into a sealed vault. Bowing her head, she exhales a defeated breath. “I’m not fighting with you, Santi. I’m on your side.”

“Could have fooled me. From the way things looked when I walked in here, you’ve already jumped onto Thalia’s she-ship and set sail.”

She groans, shaking her head. “Just because I feel for the girl, it doesn’t mean I don’t know how dangerous she could be.” I hear her crutches drag across the marble and then still.

I tell myself to walk.Just fucking walk away.But, once again, I stand there, stock still, as my sister rests her hand on my shoulder before quickly drawing it back.

“We’re Carreras. I understand we have to break rules. Just promise me you won’t breakher.”

“You really think I’m a bastard, don’t you?”

“No. I think you’d do anything to prove your loyalty topapá…and to yourself.”

Just the mention of his name and my chin slingshots back over my shoulder. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She stares into my eyes, her gaze softening. “Loyalty isn’t always a straight path, Santi. Sometimes it forks when we least expect it.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Thalia

I don’t wantto go back upstairs. I don’t want to dissect the state of my one-day marriage inside an empty room again. It’s a dangerous activity when you’re forty-two floors up and the sky is within touching distance. If Santi were to wander in unannounced for another round of unresolved sexual-hate tension, I might end up pushing him off the balcony.

Instead, I find myself back in the Platinum Bar, ordering another orange juice from Andrew that I know I’m not going to drink.

“Here you go,” he says with a wry smile. He knows I’m not going to drink it either, but he’s too polite to say anything.

I watch him polish the counter for the umpteenth time, until I can see my misery reflected back to me in perfect definition.

“How long have you worked here?”

“Two years.”

“Do you like it?”

He laughs. “Is that a loaded question? I know who you’re married to, Mrs. Carrera, and I value my…employment.”

“Fair enough,” I say, grinning back at him.

I watch him place a box of Johnnie Walker Blue on the counter and start unpacking the bottles. He’s handsome in an All-American quarterback kind of way, but I know that if I were to ever find myself alone with him, his touches wouldn’t sear my skin, and his kisses wouldn’t burn like fire.

Not like another’s… Whenhetouches me, I know I’m already in hell.

Damn you, Santi. Why did you have to go and make everything so confusing?

“Are you a New Jersey native?”

“Born and bred,” he says proudly.