“Yulian.” Mia’s worried voice breaks into my thoughts. “Let me see.”
“It’s nothing.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She flashes me a weak smile. “I’m a nurse, remember?”
Slowly, she unbuttons my jacket and pushes it off. I let it fall to the floor. Her delicate fingers inspect the gashes in my shirt, red with blood. Concern fills her face. “What did this?”
“Glass.”
“How?”
I consider lying. Telling her a window broke, that I was just unlucky.
But then I remember what lies did to us. They almost tore us apart.
So I tell her. About the shooting, my stunt to save Kazimir, Rurik’s death—everything.
While I speak, she sits me down at the counter and cuts off my shirt with a pair of scissors, carefully peeling it off. Then she plucks a pair of tweezers from the first-aid kit, sterilizes them with alcohol, and starts picking debris out of my wounds. She listens intently as she works, not interrupting me once.
When I’m done, she lets out a single, shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have texted you earlier.”
“No, you were right to.”
She shakes her head. “It was handled. I just—I was so scared, I acted without thinking. But you were dealing with something much worse.”
“Kotyonok.” I tip up her chin, force her gaze to meet mine. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll always come when you call, no matter what.”
Her eyes grow wet. “But what if I call one time too many? What if, one day, you realize I’m just a burden?”
“You’re not.” I take her face with both hands, stroking the tears away from her cheekbones. “You’re everything. And I’d rather lose a thousand soldiers than one of you.”
I kiss her without thinking. Not because I want her, but because I want her to know I’m here. That I’m not going anywhere.
It’s the briefest kiss in the world, but she’s breathless when we part. “I’ll, um… I’ll draw you a bath. To wash out your cuts. Then we’ll disinfect everything and wrap you up with gauze.”
“No stitches?”
“Not this time.” She gives me a sad smile, like she knows it’ll happen eventually. That, one day, she’ll have to patch up much worse than shallow cuts. “Go rinse off first. It’s safer that way.”
I rinse off quickly under the spray. Once I’m done, the tub is already filled.
And Mia is inside.
Naked. Hidden under the water, but barely. There’s no foam, no fancy soaps—just plain water and the reflection of her.
“Sit with your back to me,” she instructs, nurse-like. “That way, I can check if I missed anything.”
I don’t object. Might be better if she doesn’t see the raging hard-on I’m about to get.
I settle into the tub. Soon, I can feel her hands on me, dragging a washcloth across the planes of my back.
Discomfort twists my stomach. I’m not used to being taken care of. Showing someone my back, letting them touch me where I can’t see. Trusting they’ll help instead of stabbing me.
But Mia works slowly, confidently. Soon, I feel my body relax under her touch.
“Were you two close?” she asks softly. “You and Rurik?”
“Fuck, no. He was a nightmare.”
