Page 90 of Essence of Fear

And warm, too.

It was strange.

“How did you come back here?”

Pav shrugged but didn’t turn around to look at her as he neared the dresser with the pictures. “Someone recognized my face when they took me to the fights for the first time … someone who was staying here at the time. He told me Grisha was still waiting for me, and if I knew how to get home, I was always welcome.”

“You must have come back, then.”

“I got away once. They took me out … details don’t matter. I came here. I was sixteen, I think.”

He thought …

He didn’t even know.

That broke her heart.

“Grisha knew my face instantly and brought me in. I was here a day before they came looking for me. They already knew about this place—they knew where to find me because I didn’t have a big world outside of my father. I went back because they left Grisha alone. They didn’t touch this place.”

“I’m sorry.”

Pav shook his head. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Vadim used this place as a reward, too. If I behaved, I could come back. He never told me when it would happen, they would just drop me off at the door, and let me go in. I would watch out the windows for when the black car would come back, and I would have to leave again. Grisha was always here; the room was always waiting just like it was when I left.”

“Pav—”

“Come in, close the door.”

She did and then crossed the room with quiet, quick steps until she was right behind him. This man … he was always silent, lost in his mind and thoughts. When he spoke, he often said things that went deeper than just what he offered on the surface. This was something he’d never spoken about in all their time together, and she had to wonder if he even really allowed himself to think about it.

Was he scared they’d take it?

Would they?

Not anymore.

She knew that.

Viktoria wrapped her arms around Pav’s middle and hugged him tight. She rested the side of her face right between his shoulder blades. The cool leather of his jacket smoothed against her cheek, but underneath it, she could feel the way his body vibrated.

It wasn’t easy to be here.

She wished she could make it better.

“He changes the sheets and keeps everything dusted,” Pav murmured, his fingers drifting over the framed photographs. “But he knows he’s not doing it for my father anymore. He does it for me.”

“Because he cares.”

“I forgot what that was.”

“I don’t think you did,” she whispered.

He’d always known how to care with her.

Didn’t that mean something?

“I used to think this was home. If I had one, then this had to be it.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked.