My loaded question hangs between us, choking the life out of the room. My eyes are riveted on him. I'm waiting for his answer. The not-knowing is killing me. 

Deep in thought, Cruz doesn't rush to ease the tension. 

His handsome face contorts with anguish when he, at last, speaks up, "He tried to once when I was ten, but my mom stopped him."

"Shit."

"Yeah. It was the only time she ever threatened to leave him. My dad hasn't tried to hit me since then."

I stare at him with some doubt. "You swear?"

Is he lying just to make me feel more at ease?

Cruz insists, "I swear. I think it helps that I'm bigger now, too. My dad knows I can take him in a fight, so he's not gonna start something knowing that I might punch him out."

I frown, uncertain about whether or not to believe him. "Huh."

Cruz seems to pick up on my skepticism, insisting again, "I'm not lying to you, Athena. I promise. My dad just likes to yell a lot and throw shit around."

"No kidding."

"Pride... is a big deal for my dad. Usually, as long as I keep my grades up, win my games, and clean my room, he leaves me alone because I make him look good."

Indignation rises in my chest. "Fuck his pride."

"Well, it's better than the alternative, right?"

My face crumples a little. "I guess so..."

"He's probably not gonna hurt us as long as we make him feel like top dog," Cruz mutters bitterly, "but you need to be careful around him. My dad's been holding back for a long time. This nice guy act is taking a toll on him. He's starting to slip up around you and your aunt now."

"I hate that we have to live under his roof," I grumble. "I need to convince my aunt to leave him."

"Do you think she'll listen?"

"Doubt it," I sigh.

He grimaces. "It's kinda impossible to convince someone who's not ready to accept the truth."

Cruz sounds like he's speaking from experience. I can't help but agree with him. Aunt Katrina seems like she's all too willing to drink Ron's Kool-Aid.

"Did you ever try to convince your mom to leave your dad?"

He nods with a jerk of his chin.

"Your mom didn't want to listen, did she?"

Cruz shakes his head. "Unfortunately, no."

"Then, why did your mom leave when you were eleven? How come you're not with her right now?" I inquire curiously.

For several long moments, he doesn't answer my question. Cruz looks like he's having a really hard time bringing up his mom.

I'm about to drop the subject when Cruz pipes up, "Because she's not in the US anymore."

My eyebrows shoot up. "What? Where is she, then?"

"São Paulo."

São... Paulo?

Is that city in Brazil?

I'm pretty sure it's in Brazil.

"Why did your mom go to... São Paulo?"

Grief weighs on his features. "My grandma passed away around that time. My mom was only supposed to be gone for a few weeks. She planned to attend the funeral, clean out my grandma's apartment, and fly back to the States."

"So... why did she end up staying in Brazil?"

A bleak expression settles over Cruz's face. "My mom tried to come back, but she... couldn't."

"Why?"

"On paper, my dad and my mom never got married."

This is news to me.

"What?"

Grudgingly, Cruz explains, "My dad used to accuse my mom of being with him only because she needed a green card, so he wanted her to prove her love before he would marry her. Or some sort of twisted shit like that."

"Have you been able to see her at all since she left for Brazil?"

"She tried to visit me a few times, but my dad refused to let her see me. He has full custody of me right now."

"She should fight him for custody!"

"She's not a US citizen, though, and he has really good lawyers. It's not that... simple."

I'm completely overwhelmed by this craziness that Cruz is sharing with me. It's hurting my head and my heart to listen to him. His childhood sounds all sorts of twisted and fucked up because of his parents' toxic relationship.

All I can muster is a weak slew of "oh, my God, oh, my God, oh my God" as I try to process this shit.

No wonder Cruz doesn't want to talk about his past. It sounds painful as hell to revisit. I reach over to grasp his hand. To offer him some comfort. Just like the way he held my hand in the park. I give his palm a little squeeze. He squeezes mine back.

Cruz grimaces as he rambles on, "My mom has Brazilian citizenship. She could only stay in the US, long-term, because of her work visa as a nurse. At the time, she was being sponsored by my dad's hospital, but he used some of his connections with the board to get her fired while she was overseas—"

I interrupt with an outraged expression, "Why would Ron do that to his partner and the mother of his child?"

Cruz's expression darkens significantly. "Around that time, there were some rumors going around the hospital that my mom might be cheating on my dad. He wanted to punish her."

"Were the rumors... true?"

"I dunno. My dad never found proof, and I think my mom was too scared of him to even look at another guy."

"So... your dad ruined your mom's life and career because he didn't trust her?"

"Basically."

God, Ron's such a fucking piece of work. It makes me want to punish him for Cruz's sake. For his mom's sake, too.

That's when I decide to come clean about the recording on my phone. "You know..."

"What?"

"Earlier, when your dad was in the study, I got some sound bites of him on my phone. We can use it as evidence against Ron if you ever wanna, I dunno, turn him in."

Cruz's eyes pop. "Are you being serious, Athena? Why would you do something so risky? What if he caught you?"

"I—"

Cruz glares at me. "I thought I told you not to be a fucking hero?"

Frowning, I protest, "I was only trying to help."

"I know," he growls, "but don't do it again, okay? I told you already. Let me handle my dad. You don't know him like I do."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'll stay out of it from now on."

Cruz arches an eyebrow. "You better."

Annoyance flares even though I suspect that Cruz is merely trying to prevent me from getting caught in Ron's warpath. I'm annoyed because, it seems, Cruz is perfectly fine with pushing me to press charges against Chrissa and Brody, but he won't go after his dad. He's being hypocritical, but I don't call him out. I can tell this whole day, this whole conversation, has drained him.

He deserves someone to cut him a break.

I know I need to be that someone for him right now.

Therefore, all I do is keep my hold on his hand and kiss his cheek, whispering, "Thank you for telling me about your dad and your mom tonight, Cruz. I know it must've been hard as hell. I know the future won't be easy for us, either, but we'll get through this shit. Together. I promise. You're my guy now, and I'm your girl. Okay?"

Soft, hopeful emotions flicker across his face. He smiles faintly and kisses me back. "Okay."

I'm scared of facing Ron and going to school again tomorrow morning, but I also want to be strong for Cruz. I want to be strong for myself as well. We fall asleep, holding hands, in my bed, and, over the next few hours, all of this depressing, messed up shit in our lives doesn't feel so depressing or messed up anymore.

Because we have each other.