“Hmm,” I think for a minute, digesting my brother’s dilemma thoroughly and how best to help him. “Maybe we can postpone that bleak future of yours a bit. Let me talk to Mishaabout you staying with me in Chicago for a few months before you need to head back to San Francisco. I think he’ll be more receptive if I ask.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“What wouldn’t I do for you?” I counter, confused he’d even think otherwise.
Before I know what’s happening, Kostya pulls me into a hug, holding me tight, just like he used to when we were kids. He lets go just as quickly, visibly emotional, scrambling to his feet as if putting distance between us could hide it.
“I… uh… I’m going to look for Frankie. You all have hogged her long enough. It’s my turn to spend some quality time with my niece.”
I don’t correct him for calling her by her given name. It’s clear where he stands when it comes to Kira. And after spending time with her, I’m in agreement—Kira deserves a full, well-adjusted life. I’m not sure how she’ll get that with Lucky in the picture, but something tells me he’ll do everything he can to keep a smile on her face. I’m not convinced living here, in this fortress isolated from the world, will give her that.
“Goddamn it!” I hear Stella shout from inside her room, jolting me to my feet. I rush inside without knocking.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I hurry toward her and find her on her feet, one arm braced on the bed for balance, while the other is caught in its sling.
“What’s wrong?! Everything is wrong!” she snaps, but the fire in her voice fades almost instantly, replaced by embarrassment. “I can’t even use the bathroom on my own. It’s freaking humiliating.”
“Let me help you,” I say, scooping her into my arms and carrying her into the bathroom, before she has time to fight me on it. I lower her onto the toilet and step back. “Just call mewhen you’re done.” I don’t wait for a reply and close the door behind me to give her some privacy.
A few minutes later, I hear the flush, followed by her calling my name. I open the door immediately, but before I can lift her up in my arms again, she swats my hands away.
“What is it?”
She takes a fortifying breath, struggling with her words. “I need a bath. A real bath. Not that sponge bath crap.”
“Do you want me to help you? Or,” I continue, swallowing hard, feeling parched all of a sudden, “do you want me to find Kira to help?”
“You’ll do.” Her lips press into a thin line.
I don’t dare open my mouth, afraid she might change her mind. Instead, I turn around and fill the bathtub, adding salts to help her relax and bubbles to give her some semblance of modesty—not that Stella is known for possessing much of that.
Once I’m sure the water isn’t too hot for her, I turn around to help her out of her sling and the old nightgown Elena lent her.
“I should get you some clothes,” I state evenly, not one bit pleased to see Stella in something my sister-in-law would wear.
“What happened to the clothes I was wearing?”
“I burned them.”
“Do I even want to know why?” she asks, one brow lifting high.
“No.”
What’s the use in telling her that the blood on those clothes still haunts me, and that I burned them because I couldn’t live with the reminder of how close I came to losing her? Stella wouldn’t appreciate such honesty coming from me.
“I’ll go into town and grab you a few things first thing tomorrow,” I add instead.
“Would you mind picking up a large T-shirt too? This nightgown is a little too girly for my taste.”
“It’s the first thing on my list. Trust me,” I promise, while gently removing her sling. “Now raise your arms. Carefully.”
Stella doesn’t argue, lifting her arms as slowly as she can, as not to aggravate her injury. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her completely naked before me, but I force down the surge of desire and lower myself to my knees to peel her underwear off. I then lift her again with the same gentleness, cradling her head to my chest before slowly lowering her into the tub. When she sees I’m doing everything in my power not to eye-fuck her, her lips curve in a knowing smirk.
“That’s some mighty restraint you’ve got going on there, Kill. Bravo,” she teases, scooping up bubbles and blowing them into my face.
“Stop being a brat and let me wash you already.”
“Brat?!” She laughs, the sound doing something to my insides. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that. Aside from my brothers, maybe.”
