Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“I’m glad we did this,” I say, leaning on Tigran’s shoulder. The city flashes past us as we head back toward the harbor and home.
“I’m glad you came,” he says, lacing his fingers through mine. “What did you think of them?”
“They seem really happy. And Roman is so cute. Very energetic.”
“Energetic is a good word.” Tigran takes a long breath and lets it out. “I wasn’t sure about Lena at first. I hated her, if I’m honest. I thought she was just getting in the way and causing problems, but now I understand. Arsen needed her. They fit together. And when you find your fit, it’s hard to ignore it, even if you want to.” He looks at me for a long moment, and I feel my stomach twist itself into knots.
“Tigran?” I ask, leaning back to look into his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything, pisik.”
“Who’s Natalia?”
Tigran
I don’t speak for a long time. I should have something to say, but words fail me. It’s clear Dasha wants to press, and she probably has every right to keep wondering, but I find myself at a loss.
I haven’t talked about Natalia in a long time, and I know my brother isn’t stupid enough to bring her up.
So how does she even know?
Alexan drops us all back at the house. I head to my room, and Dasha follows. It’s not a question of whether we’ll sleep in the same bed anymore. My thoughts are a jumbled mess as I try to sort out what I want to tell her and how I can make her understand what Natalia meant to me.
I know it isn’t fair to make her wait like this. She’s probably itching to ask more. I just haven’t spoken out loud about Natalia in so long, and I find it hard, even after all these years.
“How do you know about her?” I ask at last while we’re getting undressed.
Dasha pauses and looks over. She’s in shorts and a t-shirt, her hair in a messy bun, ready for bed. “You said her name.”
“When?”
“In your sleep. The night you got hurt, when you took all those painkillers and sleeping pills. You said her name.”
I let out a breath and sit down on the edge of the bed. Fuck, that makes sense. “I dreamed about her that night,” I admit, shoulders slumping forward. “Except it wasn’t her. It was what happened to her, but it was your face.”
“What happened to her?” Dasha asks. She comes over, hesitant and worried.
A few weeks ago, I would have pushed her away. I don’t talk about Natalia. I don’t talk about what happened to my best friend. That was a dark day, a defining moment for the man I’ve become, but there’s something in Dasha’s expression that makes me want to finally open up to someone about it.
She’s so sweet and light. There’s no judgment. Just that scar down her cheek. She knows pain the way I do, and if anyone can understand letting one intense moment of their life keep them prisoner, it’s my pisik.
“Natalia was my cousin,” I say and smile slightly at the relief on Dasha’s face. “Well, second cousin. We were best friends since we were little. She was practically my sister.”
Dasha sits down beside me. She hesitates, but I pull her in closer. I want her near me for this. I want to feel my wife’s warmth against my shoulder and her breath on my neck. Otherwise, I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to tell this story.
“Did something bad happen to her?” Dasha asks very gently.
“We were inseparable,” I say, not ready to get to the ending, not yet at least. “You have to understand, Nat and I spent all our time together. Her parents had a house a few blocks away from the mansion, and Nat would come over every single day before and after school on her bike to play. We took the bus together. We built forts in the backyard, played soccer, got into fights, explored the secret passages—”
“Secret passages?” Dasha’s eyebrows raise.
I wave that off. She’ll find out about those some other time. “We were practically twins. Even as we got older, Nat and I were closer than siblings. She understood me, and I understood her. We just worked together. Until I was fifteen.” I stop talking. I can still feel Nat’s body in my arms, her shoulders against my knees, her blood soaking into my pants and my hands as I desperately pawed at the wounds all over her chest.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Dasha says, gently stroking a thumb down the back of my hands.
I push on. I have to get it out. Otherwise, I’ll be trapped in it, the way Dasha’s trapped herself. “We went out for ice cream. It was as normal as it gets. My dad even came for once. Me, Arsen, Dad, and Natalia. I got vanilla, and Nat made fun of me. She said I had the most boring taste in the world. I don’t even remember what she got anymore. It happened when we were walking back to the car.” I take a breath, falling into the moment the way I’ve done so many times over the years. “The tires screamed. The bullets were so fucking loud. I knew what was happening, but there was nothing I could do. Dad tackled Arsen to the ground and yelled for me to move, and all I could do was fall to the concrete. I don’t know how many times they shot, a dozen, more, it’s all a mess in my head, but the car pulled off, leaving tire marks behind, and that’s when I saw her.”