Diego turned his head to look straight into Leila’s eyes. He wasn’t making the decision for her. If she wanted to go after Grace the moment she was able, he would be right there with her. He wanted her to know that.
12
Diego wasn’t in the least surprised that Rubin waited several hours until Leila fell asleep before signaling him to go outside. There was no putting it off or getting around it: Diego knew he owed his brother explanations. He wasn’t looking forward to it though.
Rubin had spent the time unloading supplies from his truck and putting everything away neatly, as was their way. They were both used to keeping the cabin clean and neat. They preferred outdoors and open spaces. The cabin was on the small side, so in order to be comfortable, they’d learned to keep everything in its place.
Diego followed Rubin outside to one of their favorite spots. They had carved out two downed tree trunks years earlier, making comfortable seats so they could view the night sky. Stars were abundant when they were lucky and there was no fog. The building site for the cabin had been carefully selected to get the most sun for growing vegetables. The forest had often tried to reclaim the area, but they kept the trees and brush from growing too close. Theywere always cognizant of escape routes, but they wanted an unobstructed view.
Rubin was silent for a long time, looking up at the sky and the drifting clouds. Twice he cast a furtive glance at Diego but refrained from speaking. Diego had been reading Rubin all his life. Rubin had been his closest ally and his best friend. As much as Diego protected him, Rubin reciprocated. For many years, it had been the two of them against the rest of the world.
Diego was aware he’d hurt Rubin by not disclosing his ability as a psychic surgeon. Rubin would look at it as a matter of trust. It wasn’t that, and Diego had to find the right words to explain, even knowing Rubin would reject the explanation.
“Before we get into anything else, we’re going to address your mental health, Diego,” Rubin said. “I know you’re going to tell me you’re fine now, especially because you found Leila, but you aren’t. You’re a doctor. You’re intelligent. Depression is a real illness and has to be acknowledged and addressed. You have to remain vigilant the rest of your life if you’re going to survive. And I need you to survive.”
Diego stared up at the stars, knowing everything his brother said was the truth. He would have times when he had to fight the destructive thoughts in his head in order to stay alive.
“Just because I have Jonquille doesn’t mean you get to leave me. I have as many issues from our childhood as you do,” Rubin continued. “Maybe they aren’t the same, but I have them. It’s always been the two of us. You don’t get to decide you’re not going to be here because you think I’ll be fine. You don’t get to make that decision.”
Diego wisely didn’t argue with his brother. Rubin needed to state what was on his mind, and Diego had always listened to him. He detested that he’d hurt Rubin—and he had. He hadn’t meant to. He should have gone to his brother and talked things over withhim. He hadn’t because he knew Rubin would insist on him getting help. How? Diego had never been able to figure that one out.
Who did a man like him talk to? Would he be pulled off the team? When he was working, he was perfectly fine. It was the downtime that was the danger zone. He wasn’t about to go to a therapist and have them declare him psychotic. Given his lack of emotion when he pulled the trigger, he knew that very well could be a diagnosis.
He’d trained himself from early childhood not to feel anything—at least, he believed he’d done that. His mother thought he’d been born psychotic, but he wanted to believe Luther—that she’d programmed him to think the worst of himself.
“Having Leila isn’t going to make it easier in the long run. This is something you have to address head-on, Diego. Especially if you’re going to allow this woman and any children to rely on you. You can’t suddenly take yourself out of their lives because you’re having a bad time.”
Diego waited, but Rubin had fallen silent and was regarding him expectantly. Diego shoved his hand through his hair. “You’re right, Rubin. Absolutely right. I’ve known I needed help with this, but I wasn’t certain what to do. If I take medication, Joe could easily pull me off the team.”
Joe Spagnola, their commanding officer, was a fair man, but he had to follow protocol. If he knew one of his men was suicidal, he would have no choice but to pull him from the team.
“If I talk to a therapist, I’m in the same boat,” Diego said. “They’d report me, and Joe would have to act. Working is what keeps me going. When I’m working, I feel I have purpose. When I have no one to look after or protect, that’s when the demons start talking in my head.”
“What do your demons say, Diego?” Rubin asked quietly.
Diego shrugged, but he knew Rubin wasn’t going to let him offthe hook. And he didn’t want his brother to just let it go. He wanted to survive for Leila. For Grace. He wanted to have Leila keep looking at him as if he were someone worthwhile.
Rubin didn’t push him. He waited in silence, but Diego could feel the weight of his eyes. That penetrating stare. Rubin knew what he was going to say, but he didn’t relent; he made Diego admit it aloud.
“I’m worthless. I’m a killer, born that way. My only use is to protect you from harm. That when Whitney enhanced me, he enhanced every killer trait I had and added to them. That I’m a danger to others.”
Rubin nodded. “So, essentially, everything our mother programmed you to believe, and then Whitney took over her bullshit to reinforce every bullshit thing she said to you.”
Diego knew that was the truth. He’d like to believe he’d overcome the things his mother had drilled into him daily—not only verbally, but she’d used a switch and a belt to try to beat the devil out of him. She hadn’t managed to do so, no matter how hard she tried. She prayed constantly around him. She did her best to convince his sisters he was a “bad seed.”
Diego nodded his assent. “Her voice is forever in my mind.”
Rubin leaned toward him. “She was as mad as a hatter. I tried to tell you when we were kids, but she was so focused on you, and the moment my back was turned, she was on you.”
Diego was shocked at the guilt in Rubin’s voice. His brother was only ten months older, yet it was clear he felt responsible for the things his mother had done to Diego.
“You stood for me when no one else would,” Diego pointed out. “I’ve always been grateful.”
“You shouldn’t have to be grateful. I know she convinced you that, somehow, I was so much better than you, but it isn’t true. It was never true.” Rubin regarded him for a moment and then swore,something he rarely did. “Stop looking at me like that. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to know she was beating you and blaming you for everything that went wrong? Especially when it was her fault. Do you hear me, Diego? The reason we didn’t have enough food most of the time was her crappy decisions. She was good at pushing the blame onto your shoulders, and after a while, you just gave in. You believed her.”
There was truth in what Rubin said. Even Luther had pointed it out. It wasn’t that Diego couldn’t see the truth—his mind didn’t accept it. He’d been the outsider in his own family. The devil using magic even when he brought home food. Somewhere along the line, he’d stopped fighting and just accepted. It had been the only way he could survive.
“You became my purpose for living, Rubin,” Diego admitted. “You stood for me. You interfered when she took the skin off me. You were my hero, and I wasn’t ever going to allow anything to happen to you.”
