“Nenoka,” he groans when I finally pull away. “You have to do it now, Nenoka. We don’t have time to wait.”
“What are you talking about?”
I can’t resist running a hand down the side of his face. Art is normally clean-shaven, but after a day in hospital his stubble rubs against my palm.
“I have so much leverage. I’ve seen you commit greemus – greepus – grievous bod-lee harm. I know you stole from us. And the child…”
He trails off.
“What the fuck, Art?” I hiss at him.
He makes no response, slipping back into a drug-induced sleep.
It’s probably for the best, but I can’t help but worry about what he’ll say to someone else if we leave him unattended.
To minimize the risk, when I pick up Ava from the hospital’s childcare facility after my shift, we sign in as visitors for Art.
Art won’t be so drugged up once he’s had surgery, so it’s only a few days that we need to stay close by in case he shares some more about the crimes I have committed under his coercion. The bastard.
It’s hard to hate him when he looks so angelic. Fast asleep in the hospital bed, with his golden hair falling over his brow.
“Why is he so sleepy, Mommy?” Ava asks.
She’s used to Art being around the hospital by now, even though she still doesn’t know that he’s her father.
“He got hurt, and he needs to be here until he gets better,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Maybe you should read him a book. That’s what you do for me when I’m sleepy.”
“Okay, sweetie. You can help me.”
Ava takes her favorite book out of my backpack and reads it to him. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, because she cannot read yet, but she’s having a great time making up a story about a princess. Sleeping Art is a good captive audience.
By the end of the story, I’m laughing out loud at Ava’sperformance, and she is waving her fairy wand above Art’s hospital bed.
His eyes flutter open to the sight of his daughter pretending to read her books to him, and for a second, I let myself believe that we’re a normal family. One where no secrets or pre-arranged gunshot wounds are involved.
21
ARTYOM
Getting shot might have been the best choice I’ve ever made.
I’m discharged from the hospital the day after they remove the bullet from my shoulder. But now I need wound care, and dressings, which gives me the perfect excuse to bring Nina home with me.
As soon as we walk through the door, we’re greeted by Babushka eyeing the three of us with a wide grin. She’s overjoyed to have Ava back in the house again.
“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Nina asks me with an arched eyebrow. “Get shot just so you could take me back to yours.”
“What kind of madman do you think I am, Nenoka?”
“A very obsessed one,” she says. The light in her brown eyes dims a little. “For reasons I don’t fully understand.”
The afternoon goes better than I could have planned it.
Ava gets the grand tour of the entire estate, running down the long hallways with alarming speed. She’s particularly impressed by the archery course and the rose garden.
I show her and Nina how to hit a croquet ball through the hoops, demonstrating one-handed to avoid straining my shoulder.
