I let myself cry into his chest, wishing it were someone else holding me right now. Wishing it were Kirill instead of his brother.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m not mad anymore,” Kostya whispers, rubbing my shoulder gently. “You’re lucky my Achilles’ heel is a woman’s tears. Can’t stand that shit. Reminds me too much of Katya when she would get home from…never mind. I just can’t handle that shit.”
I don’t say anything to that. I just keep crying, letting all the tears I’ve been holding back for the last two months finally breakfree. At home, I never allowed myself to cry. Not ever. My family was already worried enough about my mental state. I couldn’t add sobbing on top of everything else.
But here… in Kirill’s living room, where the scent of his clove cigarettes still clings to everything he touched, I let it all come pouring out.
Every torment.
Every ache.
Every ounce of agony I’d shoved down so deep it hollowed me out from the inside.
I just let myself break.
I’m not sure how long we stay like that—me crying while Kostya rubs my back—but it must be a while, because by the time I look up, the sky is pitch black outside.
“Sorry,” I mumble, wiping my face and noticing that Kostya’s shirt is probably ruined.
“No. I’m the one who should apologize,” he says, his expression softer than it was when I stormed inside his home uninvited. “I thought you were toying with my brother’s feelings. I had no idea you were suffering just as much. You two should really talk it out.”
“I know,” I whisper, voice still thick with tears. “That was what I was hoping to do this afternoon back at my house. But he never gave me the chance. I can’t believe he just…left.”
Kostya’s shoulders slump, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything to add salt to the wound.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks, after he’s sure I won’t break apart again.
I nod, still wiping a few tears away.
“Why did you break up in the first place, if you knew it was going to hurt this bad?”
I look at Kostya, a fresh burn of tears rising.
“Forget that I ask,” he says quickly. “You don’t have to tell me anything. It wasn’t my place to ask anyway.”
“When…” I swallow, struggling to form the words. “When is he coming back?”
“He’ll be here for Frankie’s graduation, but then he’ll fly back to Russia with us the next day.”
“Us?”
“Frankie and Darius are spending the summer at Misha’s,” Kostya explains. “Elena will be almost eight months pregnant by then, and Frankie wants to be there for the birth of her baby cousin. Darius is excited about it too.”
“Oh… right.” I dig my teeth into my lip, the sting sharp enough to distract me from how much it hurts being left out of something so important. But what right do I have to be there, when I’m the reason Kirill and I are no longer… anything?
“Can I give you some advice?” Kostya asks, his tone more serious now.
Again, all I can do is nod.
“Make sure the next time you talk to my brother, you’re certain of your feelings for him. If you’re just going to lead him on and flake at the last minute, that’s…well, that’s just fucking cruel. Be sure you love him enough to fight for him. Otherwise…”
“Let him go?” I finish for him.
“You’re right. That shit is annoying,” he chuckles, only for his smile to falter a second later. “I have something for you.”
He rises from the couch and leaves the living room, disappearing down the hall for a few minutes. When he returns, he’s holding an envelope.
“Kirill asked me to give this to you tomorrow when you came to the casino. I have no idea what’s written in here, but… whatever it is, give the guy a little grace, yeah? When he came back from your induction, he looked completely shattered. Idon’t want to get your hopes up since I’m not sure any words he wrote are going to make you feel any better.”
