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I go with it anyway. “Yeah, I did. I trusted you, I trusted you wanted to help me heal.”
His lips pinches and he looks away for a second, still playing with the ice pack, kneading it like a stress ball.
“No one can see us in here. No one can hear us talk,” he says, his voice low.
I nod, confused. Then slowly, clumsily, I understand. He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s talking to me.
He’s scared.
“You’re protecting me from Bianco, aren’t you? He threatened me, didn’t he?”
He doesn’t reply. I went too far in my thinking, it sounds too real to him. I take it down a notch. “You’re right, no one can hear us in here. No one knows where to find us. It’s just you and me and I won’t repeat anything.”
“Why did you want to know so much about me? Why did you always ask questions?”
He sounds childish, like he doesn’t get that when you’re in love with someone you want to help them become the best version of themselves. All those emotions, he doesn’t really understand them.
“I wanted to get to know you, to help you grow, to work on the things that have broken you.”
“There are too many,” he admits quietly, his eyes so focused on the ice pack he’s about to burn a hole in it. He hasn’t lifted his gaze for the whole conversation.
“We could start with something small,” I reassure him. “You’re safe here, with me. No one will know.”
He nods slowly but it takes him a long minute before he talks again. “You kept asking about my tattoo.”
“Yeah, I did. Would you like to share what it means with me? It would mean a lot to me.” I keep my voice calm, I don’t rush him. This is the first time since I’ve met him that he’s willing to open up to me. I’m not about to ruin it with the excitement that we’re getting somewhere, that maybe, somehow, it’ll all get better.
“Do you know what 1933 is?” he asks.
I think about it for a second. “End of the prohibition?” I try.
“You’re so smart,” he chuckles. “During the prohibition, the mafia families became prominent alcohol distributors. They made millions out of that. But the Bianco family always wanted something else. They stayed out of it, sure that it would end, and they would be ready when it did. They built their empire on weapons and women instead. When the prohibition ended, a lot of mafia families died down. They were small back then, the Cosa Nostra wasn’t as big as it is now. That’s when the Bianco’s rose up. That’s the start of their empire, 1933. When they became the kings of New York.”
I nod at the fascinating history lesson, despite the sad story behind it.
“And the W?”
“The Americanized version of Bianco…White. They wanted something that represented them, but not something that would directly spell their name out. There you have it, your explanation.”
I wait until he gets to the true hard part about this. Because we both know there is more to this explanation. He huffs after a few seconds.
“Only the most trusted get this tattoo.” His face twists with the pain from the memories. “Unfortunately, my siblings and I inherited it. It came with Bianco’s obsession with us. A tattoo each so he could mark us as his forever. Truly, forever. ”
I put a hand on his cheek and he finally looks up, his broken gaze fixed on mine.
“You’re more than a bit of ink on your back,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I’m also a fucked up kid who is stuck in his past.”
I shake my head. “No. You’re a beautiful man who is trying to heal from trauma. You’re someone I trust with my life, who I know will do the right thing when it comes down to it. I know you, Jake. You might think you’re horribly broken into pieces of hate, but I think you’re a beautiful mosaic made of courage.”
The light that flickers in his eyes is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. He licks his lips and drops the ice pack.
“I want to kiss you.” His whisper is barely audible.
I suck in a breath.
“I’m going to kiss you, Jamie. We’re not gonna get back together, and I’m not going to love you again. But Iamgoing to kiss you and fuck you against those shelves.”
