Some I got pulled out of. Some I didn’t.

Mateo studies me. He has these eyes that are light brown, almost as if I can see deep inside his soul. I don’t know whether it’s part of his beauty or whether he really carries some old wisdom. Either way it feels like he understands what I’m saying. And what I’m not saying.

“I believe you,” he says, his voice gentle. I can imagine him just like this on a cliff somewhere with a green screen behind him instead of a gorgeous hazy day. He would be playing the part of a concerned friend. Except this is real. Or is it? “He’s not the obvious kind of bad. He’s the kind that sneaks up on you. The kind you don’t see in the fog until it’s too late.”

“Is that right?” comes Mr. Rochester’s voice. It carries across the wind. I jump and turn. He’s standing a few yards back, leaning heavily on his walking stick. “I was wondering what Mateo Garza and Jane Mendoza would have to chat about out here. Now I know.”

Mateo steps in front of me, as if protecting me from his anger. “Don’t blame her.”

“I don’t,” Mr. Rochester says, biting off the words. “It’s crystal clear what’s happening here. I turn my back for one second, and now you’re trying to get into her pants.”

“That’s not what happened,” I say, my voice soothing, unable to keep silent.

Dark eyes flash at me. “Now you’re on his side?”

“I’m not on anyone’s side! I just don’t want you walking around. Is that honestly too much to ask? Can you follow the doctor’s orders for like a full twenty-four hours?”

“You are fooling yourself if you think he doesn’t want a night with you.”

I gesture broadly. “This is Mateo Garza. Maybe you’ve been friends with him forever, so you missed the memo where he can have anyone. Why would he want me?”

“Don’t undersell yourself,” Mr. Rochester says, but it doesn’t sound flattering. “He’s had his fill of actresses and models. Now he wants the real deal.”

“I think it’s the pain meds,” I mutter to Mateo. “He refuses to take them.”

“He’s not entirely wrong.” Mateo has this perfect expression of handsome sheepishness. Did he perfect the look in order to get parts? Or did he get parts because he was born with that look? “I did think about asking you for coffee, but that doesn’t mean what I’m saying isn’t true.”