“That’s by design,” Tino assured him as he took another bite of eggs.
“I know that you probably need therapy, Valentino. It’s unfair to you that you can’t have the same help we’ve gotten for Mei and Carla and the others, but I’ve been reading books, psychology books. So I thought maybe if you started talking to me—”
“No.” Tino cut him off with a stern look. “I’m never telling you what happened with Mary. That is a line we’re never crossing. So forget about it.”
“It’s about privacy. Your fucking hang-up over the shower?” Nova growled at him, making it obvious this was a subject he’d been trying to broach for a while. “You have no one else to talk to, Valentino, and I think you need to get it out. You’re angry. You should be angry, but who else do you have to talk to about it? How are you ever gonna heal from that?”
“I appreciate that. Truly,” Tino told him softly, and he did, because Nova gave a shit, and Tino had been stepped on for too long not to genuinely appreciate someone giving a shit enough to talk about something so uncomfortable. “But you couldn’t handle it.”
Tino put his plate in the sink and went to get ready. He had a bedroom in Nova’s place, rarely slept in, but the closets were awesome. High-tech. Like out of a James Bond movie and probably cost Nova millions. Tino pulled out the top drawer to the dresser in his walk-in closet and placed his hand against the hidden panel embedded in the wood.
The wall slid back, showing off his best toys that were, with any luck, very hidden from the next inevitable FBI raid of Nova’s apartment. He’d gotten hit twice, and both times they hadn’t found the weapons.
Fucking government.
Nova came into the closet as Tino worked on putting on his boots. “I could handle it. I’d cut off my own arm for you. Of course I could handle it, and I want you to talk to me. To finally get it out.”
“Madonn’.” Tino groaned as he sat on the floor and tied his laces. “Remind me never to knock you out again. It’s fine. I’m great. No harm done. There’s nothing to get out.”
“I can see the harm, though,” Nova argued. “I know it’s there.”
“Well, I can’t help you with that.”
Tino stood and reached for his holster. He slipped it on, all the while feeling Nova’s gaze on him. He put his Beretta in the back of his jeans and the Glock on one side of the holster, and then he stood there looking at his guns, deciding what he wanted to play with today.
“Tell me why you won’t talk to me?” Nova pressed.
Tino was still incredibly on edge from the encounter with Brianna the night before. He didn’t want to, but he turned and shouted, “Because it’s fucking horrible, Casanova!”
Nova flinched like Tino had punched him.
“It was horrible.” Tino shook his head as he repeated himself. He had taken enough steps back and been out of the sex market long enough to know that nothing about what happened was okay, even if he’d convinced himself otherwise at the time. It could’ve been worse, but it was still pretty fucking bad. “Mary is a very cruel person, and you would never wanna know what she did to me. You would never wanna know what she used to say while she was doing it. It would destroy you. It would destroy all this worship you have for Ma. I can’t stand hearing Ma’s name. I can’t stand talking about her. I want to beat my head against the wall every time you or Romeo cross yourselves when you talk about her like she’s some goddamn saint. Hearing my shit would destroy that love, and one of us needs to have it, so just let it go.”
Tino went back to getting ready.
And it wasn’t until he walked out of the closet fully dressed that Nova said, “I should’ve let Carina kill her that night. I’m the one who stopped her, you know?”
“Trust me, what Carina did is punishing Mary worse than God could. Mary is just that fucking vain, and the surgeries keep making her worse.” Tino reached out and grabbed Nova’s shoulder. “Now she doesn’t leave the house. You’re good. It’s all good.” He kissed Nova’s forehead, because now Tino had about an inch on him. “Ti voglio bene.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Nova planted the seed.
Probably some deep-rooted, long-standing problem that caused Tino to naturally believe Nova, even if everything in him was opposed to it.
Plus, Tino hadn’t ever once contemplated the possibility of healing.
He hadn’t considered it an option.
To somehow recover from Mary. To undo all her fucked-up brainwashing. He’d just been rolling with it. Coping. Lying and pretending to be the Tino he should’ve been and giving up on the Tino he was.
Except Nova wasn’t giving up.
This wasn’t the first argument they’d had about it. Nova had been trying different things for a while now. Urging him to go to therapy, even if it was an intense risk to security, but Tino nixed it, and Nova had to agree.
Now this.
And Tino hated seeing Nova miserable. It wasn’t easy being so broken that anytime Tino let himself show, he could see how it gutted his brother. Like the guilt was eating him alive.