Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“He doesn’t know that.”
“I know. Just like you don’t know how he will respond if I tell him the abuse didn’t stop at my first foster home.” My chest deflates when I exhale. “When you’re sheltered under Alek’s umbrella, he takes the role very seriously. You should know that better than anyone. He’s wanted to kill you a dozen times, yet he holds back because you have a spot under the same umbrella you shook the shit out of every time you tried to cozy up to me.”
Yev bites back a grin. “A dozen? More like a trillion.” My laugh simmers to a breathy giggle when he says, “Which has me curious as to why he’s not responding the same way to Vasily. He reeks of trouble.”
I nod, agreeing with him. “He does, but Alek hasn’t been the same since…” My words trail off. Anyone who knows Alek and Ana knows what caused their first downfall. I’m praying like hell we don’t get hit with a second deluge. “With their baby due in a couple of weeks, I think adding stuff that should be left in the past will unnecessarily hurt him.” I’ve already got Yev partway over the fence, so I give him a gentle tug. “I told you because I trust that you can handle it. Alek isn’t there yet. But when he is, I will tell him. I promise.”
My word should mean nothing to him, but he graciously accepts it. I don’t know if it is the drugs strumming through his veins working in my favor, or the tension. Whatever it is, I am grateful. It’s been hard going it alone for the past seven months.
“All right. It will remain between us for now.” I would have preferred he left the last two words off, but beggars can’t be choosers. “But if I even sniff out an inkling that Vasily’s hands are itching to reacquaint with any part of your body, I will cut them off.”
Such a violent response should be a turnoff.
It isn’t.
It is nice knowing you have someone at your six, ready to wage war to keep you safe.
Twenty-one years ago, it was my father.
Today is Yev—if he agrees to my final term.
“I’m fine with your terms, but I have one of my own I’d like heard.” When Yev gestures for me to go on, I blurt out, “You need to give up every crutch that isn’t me.”
His eyes fall to his hands, his breathing slow. “I-I don’t know if I can. My grief is—”
“Understandable and not something I expect you to ever get over.” I wait for his eyes to lift to mine before finalizing, “But I think there are better ways to go about it than with cocaine and alcohol.” My response to his unease is as bold as fuck, but you can’t feel the electricity firing in the air, so you don’t understand how much faith I have in my logic. “I know far better options.”
“Such as?” Yev asks, his tone displaying his disbelief.
After standing with knees that should be wobbly but are surprisingly stable, I whip my shirt over my head and dump it at his feet. As my breasts fall heavily on my chest, I say, “If you touch drugs, you don’t touch me. It is one or the other.” I mirror his earlier stance, bossy and domineering, before saying, “Pick.”
17
YEV
The first two days of sobriety were fucking rough, but today is by far the worst. I’m shaking so much I can barely stand. I woke up coated in sweat, and my mood is woeful, yet not once have I considered going back on the decision I made in the wee hours of Saturday morning.
A man would give up far more than an addiction for a woman like Polina, so despite a jackhammer pounding my temples and my stomach’s constant churning, I’ll suck it up and not look at the toilet in wonder.
Polina ensured not an ounce of powder missed the bowl.
My stash is gone, and I don’t have the means to replace it.
I wouldn’t even if I could. Not if it would steal from me the visual slowly pulling me out of the trenches two restless nights forced me in. Polina is standing outside the steam-coated shower door, shredding her clothes and leaving them where they fall.
Once she is as naked as the day she was born, she pulls open the shower door, then bobs under the arm keeping me upright.
“Good morning.” She breathes heavily on my chest before pressing her lips to the edge of my jaw. “Sorry I wasn’t in bed when you woke. I had to make some calls.” When she realizes not all the wetness shimmering on my skin is from the water pumping out of the showerhead, her eyes snap up to mine. “Are you okay?”