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Lingering on that possibility could send my jealousy into overdrive.
So I force the thought to the back of my mind.
An ugly truth I’ll have to come to terms with in my own time.
“The past is the past, right?” I say, my voice straining. “What matters is that we’re moving forward.” It’s our best way of turning this impromptu marriage into a success—if that’s what Mel wants.
“Right,” Mel agrees, but she pulls her hand from mine to nervously wipe her palms on her jeans.
I study her expression, searching for the relief I hope to find, but once again, I’m reminded of how impossible I find reading Mel to be. She looks lost in her past, her thoughts turning inward to a dark place. And I want to draw her out of them before I lose her completely.
“I had a thought,” I say, keeping my voice even as I glance down at Gabby, giving her a gentle squeeze.
She tears her eyes from the TV to join the conversation, and I love the way she looks at me with such open trust and ready excitement.
“You said your favorite breakfast was pancakes, right? What if I run across the street and grab whatever ingredients we need? We can cook them up together.”
“Yeah!” Gabby bounces enthusiastically, her tiny body jostling against the stitches across my ribs without really hurting me.
“That sounds nice,” Mel agrees, her lips curving into a soft smile as she seems to rally.
“Great. I, ah, might need a list, though. I’ve never made pancakes.”
“You never made pancakes?” Gabby asks, sounding utterly aghast at the possibility.
“My job normally requires a more protein-heavy diet if I want to make it through the day,” I explain. Literally. Keeping up my stamina is one of the basics we learned at a young age. Pancakes, cinnamon rolls, and even cereal were never options, so when I started cooking for myself, I just stuck with what would meet my nutritional needs.
“Yes, but pancakes are good for the soul, right, Gabby?” Mel says, rising from the couch.
“Mm-hmm,” her little girl agrees. And Gabby climbs carefully down from her perch to join her mother now.
The two are adorable together as they jot down a list of items. Then Mel passes the slip of paper to me.
“You’re sure it’s okay to go out?” she asks nervously. “The pancakes can wait a few days.”
“I’ll be back before you know it. Besides, this is more of a precaution. Like I said, Vinny won’t be back.”
It doesn’t take me more than twenty minutes to buy the small list of ingredients. And then I’m heading back across the street from the small local market. While I would never tell Mel, it does make me anxious to leave her and Gabby alone, even for a brief interval. She doesn’t need to stress any more than she already is.
But I ride the elevator up impatiently, and it brings me more than a little relief when I hear Gabby’s giggle as soon as I step through the front door.
I’m not used to this seemingly ever-growing concern for their safety. Yes, I take my role as Pyotr’s bratok seriously. And I would give my life for any one of the Veles family. But I know this with a cool conviction. It’s almost a calculated decision, though my pakhan has earned my loyalty beyond question.
With Gabby and Mel, it’s different. My instinct to protect them is visceral. Consuming. Defining. Somewhere along the line, I stopped having a say in just how far I would go to keep them safe.
And I can say without a doubt that I would do anything for them.
“I’m back,” I call as I close the door behind me.
Two pairs of eyes find me over the high-top counter that makes up the near corner of the kitchen. Mel smiles when I hoist the bag of supplies.
“I come bearing gifts.”
“We’ve been prepping berries to put on top,” Mel says.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Gabby as she pops a blueberry into her mouth while her mom’s not looking. A low chuckle rumbles from deep in my chest.
The kitchen’s already prepped for cooking. Several pans sit out on the stovetop, one of which crackles with cooking bacon. I unpack the ingredients I was sent to the store for and watch as Mel takes control, whisking around the kitchen for bowls and stirring spoons.
