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I couldn’t let that happen. I believed Nervosa when he said avoiding war was his primary concern, but my brother didn’t see that.
“You have to understand where we come from,” I said quietly, looking out the window. “My father was a good person when we were little. I remember him carrying me on his shoulder and laughing as we played in the pool. We’d spend afternoons together all the time, exploring and running around. Redmond and me and Dad were really close.”
“What changed?” he asked, his hand finding mine.
I let his fingers stay pressed against my palm. I liked the feeling: warm and strong.
“Stress got to him. He started snapping more. Punishments became harsher. His training and teaching with Redmond took a turn, and soon it went from strict to downright violent. He’d rage and stomp around the house and shout at the staff. And then one day, he slapped me across the face, and that was like the dam broke open, and the waters flooded out.”
Nervosa studied me carefully. I looked back at him, hoping he could see how painful it would be for a child to grow up with a man you loved and adored, who you worshiped as a god, and who turned on you one day. It ruined me and ruined Redmond, and made it so we could never quite trust again.
In some ways, I healed. Father spent less time at home as he got older and I saw him less, but Redmond was always by his side. Their relationship remained strained and rocky, until Redmond finally did what I always knew he would, and took our father’s life.
“I remember the day I heard Redmond had shot Dad in the head. I felt happy, and then I realized I’d just learned that my brother murdered my father. It should’ve been terrible, but you know what? All I felt was relief. I was so happy Redmond finally stood up for himself, and that his nightmare was over. I was hopeful he could heal.”
“And has he?”
“Not all the way.” I brushed Nervosa’s fingers away. “He’s still angry and distrustful. I think his wife, Erin’s helping him get past the hell of his childhood, but that sort of thing leaves its mark.”
“I know it does.” Nervosa’s lips twitched. I could only imagine what sort of hell he’d been through, and felt bad complaining about my comfortable life—but he had to know who Redmond was. It didn’t matter if Nervosa’s upbringing had been harder. Comparisons were irrelevant. Everyone hurt in their own way, and sometimes they were similar, but more often than not, people found their own particular pain and lived their own individual trauma, and it was all valid, all equally real.
“Let me talk to him again. He’ll listen to me. I’ll try to get him to see that you’re not involved in what Silvano’s doing. That he can trust you.”
“Are you sure he can?” Nervosa shifted closer. “Why are you so convinced? Why do you believe me?”
I met his eyes again and shivered. I thought of that stupid night—his body against mine, the feeling of his cock between my legs—and a blush crept down my neck.
“I’ve been around you enough by now to see that you’re not lying. I think you would lie, if it would benefit you somehow, but I can’t see how that’d be the case here.”
“You’re sure it’s not something else? Maybe you trust me because every time I’m close, you feel something.”
“That’s not it.” I hardened myself and pushed open the door. “Please don’t make me regret what happened between us.”
He said nothing. His lips pressed apart as I stepped out of the Rover. I spotted Palmira standing nearby, watching with her arms cross as she leaned against a light pole. She nodded, but didn’t move.
Nervosa followed me out. “If you’re going to talk to your brother, then let me help with your project.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“I think you do. Whatever you’re searching for has been buried for decades. You think Laurel has any clue? She’s pretty and she’s smart, but her father wouldn’t tell her something like that.”
I clenched my jaw and put a hand on Nervosa’s chest. “I don’t want your help, okay? I’m going to talk to my brother because it’s the right thing to do, and it’ll benefit me in the long run. So just ease off, all right?”
He laughed gently as I turned to leave, but didn’t get far. Sarah was walking toward us, a smile on her face that slipped when she glanced at Nervosa standing behind me.
“Hey, you,” she said, waving as she approached. She looked like she’d spent the night in the library. Again. It wasn’t all that unusual to see students sleeping in classrooms and between the stacks, but it wasn’t very healthy. “Missed you this weekend.”
