“That makes one of us.” He flips through some more options.
“Wait.” I turn my head to stare at him. “Why wouldn’t you feel bad for her? Her sons were slaughtered right in front of her.”
He chews on his bottom lip. I’ve discovered he does that whenever he’s thinking too hard about something.
“Spit it out.” I slap his leg.
“Look, darling, there are certain things that I think are better discussed between you and Mateo. He’s the one you should be asking about Sarita and her family.”
“I did ask him!” I throw my hands up. “I asked him why me, why my wedding, why Horatio and the rest. I still don’t know. It still doesn’t make any sense, and no one will tell me. I just assumed you didn’t know since you have this whole life outside of the families—” My words sour on my tongue. “That’s the life I wanted, one where I could make my own choices and be free.”
“You think my life is easy?” he counters.
“No. But I do envy the fact that once Mateo returns, you’ll probably ditch and go back to your apartment, your art, your friends, your whole life that is separate and apart from the families.”
He laughs, though it isn’t his usually bubbly sound. “No wonder Mateo wants you. You’re so naïve it’s adorable.”
I scoff. “What do you mean?”
“We are never free of the families. If you thought you could go off to college and kiss this life goodbye, then more the fool you.”
“But that’s what you did—you went off to LA and you have nothing to do with—”
“What do you think I would do if Mateo, god forbid, didn’t come home?” he asks quietly.
“I … I—”
“I would take over his spot at the head of the family and run it with honor until someone—and I’m aware this would happen sooner rather than later—came for my head.”
That hits me hard. The thought of something happening to Lito, my one lifeline in this new world, is like a kick to my gut. My thoughts stray to Ferdinand, to how I would’ve done anything to protect him. I don’t know if this is Stockholm Syndrome via a Netflix binge, but I’m starting to feel a similar way toward Lito. I can’t let him get hurt. He’s kind and strong—though a bit heavy on the alcohol and beauty products—and someone who’s worth fighting for.
He gives me an almost weary expression. “We are never out. Our last names, the blood in our veins—those are for life, Lucretia. You need to take that to heart. Your parents gave you a little extra leash, but it was only a matter of time before they pulled you back in.”
“Ferdinand stopped them. He’s the only reason I managed to have freedom—even if it was fleeting.”
“Maybe you have more freedom in store than you know. Mateo may seem like an insufferable prick, but he can be reasoned with … on some things.” He shrugs. “But what happened at the wedding—that was non-negotiable.”
“Why?”
“That’s between you and Mateo.” With a yawn, he tosses the remote at me. “All right. You’ve made your point on no more shows. I think I’m going to call it a night. Let’s go get our nails done tomorrow. How’s that sound? We’ll just have to duck Benny. But he’s pretty easy to fool. Not as easy as Red, but almost.”
I realize he isn’t going to tell me anything, and I’m beginning to think there’s some merit to his points about the families being in our blood. Underneath his kindness is a band of iron, one that might be even stronger than he knows. “Nails, yes. Sounds good.”
He leans over and kisses my hair. “See you in bed. Goodnight, sis.”
Why does that make my eyes water?
“’Night.” I barely manage to get the word out, but thankfully Lito is already out the door.
I snuggle under the throw blanket for a little while, then realize I’m about to fall asleep. I may as well turn in, too. Once I’ve turned off the TV and straightened the couch, I stretch and head out into the hall.
The kitchen is dark as I cut through it to get to the stairs.
I pause when I hear a sound in the pantry, then freeze when Geno walks out with an Oreo pinched between his fingers. “Oh, it’s you.”
A streak of lightning brightens the room for a fraction of a second.
“Midnight snack?” he asks, his gaze straying down my body.
I’m wearing some silky pajamas, but with the way he’s looking at me, I might as well be naked. I move toward the other door as unease churns in my stomach.
He steps in front of me and eats his cookie with loud, open-mouthed chewing. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to bed.”
“With the twink?”
I glare up at him. “Say that to his face, and he’ll knock that stupid look off yours.”