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“Kolya,” I whisper, my heartbeat thudding unevenly against my chest.
Seeing him today, after the declaration I made last night, feels even more painful. It crosses my mind that I might be running from heartbreak, rather than running towards a more independent future.
After all, if he had given me anything other than a rejection last night, I wouldn’t have been contemplating escape. I’d be contemplating a white picket fence, a shaggy golden retriever, and two point three beautiful children with splintering blue eyes. I’d be contemplating his ring on my finger and his taste on my lips.
I’d be contemplating a beautiful lie.
“I’d like to speak to you for a moment,” he rumbles. It’s not quite a question—Kolya never really asks those—but it’s as close as he’ll ever get to asking my permission for something.
It makes me very nervous.
“I was just on my way to see my sister.”
“You can see her later,” he says, his voice downshifting into something darker and sharper. “Come with me.”
He turns and leaves. He doesn’t even glance behind him to make sure I’m following. As my heartbeat rises heavily, I force my feet forward in his wake.
He leads me down to the second-floor office. The darkness swaddles us as we step inside. The blinds are drawn tight and a thin wreath of cigar smoke floats through the air, still fresh.
That makes me nervous, too.
“What’s going on?” I ask, right before I hear the click of the lock. I twist around to face him. His blue eyes are the only twin points of light in the darkness. “What is this? Why am I here?”
“Trying to run would be foolish, June,” he says bluntly. “You’ve tried it before and it hasn’t worked. This time won’t be any different.”
My eyes go wide as I realize the obvious explanation. “I just left her office. She must have ratted me out the moment I stepped out the door. That fucking bitch.”
“Sara was concerned about you. That is all.”
I laugh darkly. “Of course. I’m such a fool. Obviously, she’d go running to you the moment my back is turned. She’s just another one of your minions.”
Maybe I will get the fight I’m after today. And this match-up seems so much more appropriate. If a little uneven.
“Sara cares about you.”
“Bullshit!” I yell. “If she cares about me, she cares about me the way that Adrian did. Which is to say, not at all.”
Kolya fixes me with his composed, apathetic gaze, completely unmoved by my outburst. I wish I could shake some emotion out of him. Something that would betray what he’s really thinking. I wish I could crack him open with a hammer and see what, if anything, is inside.
“This is all your fault,” I spit at him.
“Is it? Go on. Tell me why.”
It’s like he’s the professor and I’m the student who can’t seem to wrap her head around the topic at hand. “You should have done whatever it took to keep Adrian from the bottle. You should have let him back in the Bratva, if that’s what he wanted. Who cares if he wanted to join your little fucking boys’ club again? But no. You had to be all high and mighty about it. So yeah, it’s your fault. No wonder I could never help him. He didn’t need my help; he neededyours.”
He just stands there, taking it.
“You should have done more,” I continue. “You should… you should… have given him a purpose. Given him direction. If you’d been there for him, then maybe, maybe—
“He wouldn’t be dead right now?” Kolya supplies quietly.
Is that what I’m mad about? The fact that Adrian is dead? My hand unconsciously twitches in the direction of my stomach. I may be carrying his baby, but in many ways, his absence in my life has been a relief.
Kolya takes a step towards me. I freeze.
“If I had been a better brother, Adrian wouldn’t be dead right now and you would be free to be as mad at him as you want to be. You would be free to question him, challenge him, hold him accountable for his sins.”
As Kolya speaks, his words slip slowly into my head and lodge themselves there. I have been spoiling for a fight today, but the person I’m really mad at is not here to take the brunt of it.
