Page 145 of Ruthless Sin
My older brother. The Santoro enforcer but it’s just Renzo to me my whole life.
He waits.
“I won’t,” I say. Steady this time.
He nods.
He walks past me toward the side hallway that leads to the kitchen.
He doesn’t look back.
Christ.
My eyes burn. I don’t let them go. My chest hurts. Same as when I was a boy and Mama died and I didn’t cry in front of Papa. I’m not doing it now either.
I keep walking.
Gia is in the corridor outside the back room.
She’s not in scrubs today.
She’s in jeans and the dove-gray sweater Mama was knitting for her the year Mama died. Her hair is down. Her eyes are red but dry.
She’s been waiting for me.
She doesn’t say finally or I told you so.
She says, quiet.
“I’m sorry, Nico.”
My chest seizes.
Nobody has been sorry for me about Moscow. Not for me. For the lie, yes. For the cost, yes. Not for the fact that I broke the promise.
I don’t speak.
I can’t.
She crosses to me. Puts her arms around me. Not the rigid sibling hug I’ve given her for years. Her arms full around my chest. Her cheek on my collarbone.
She says it against my chest, quiet.
“There you are.”
I let her.
I haven’t let her in three years.
My arms come up. Around her. Hold.
I close my eyes.
My eyes burn. I don’t let them go. Not in a hallway. Not where anyone can see me.
But I’m shaking. The smallest shake. Gia feels it.
She doesn’t shush me or tell me it’s going to be all right.
