Theo
Ifucked up. I realized that. I accepted that responsibility. I should’ve heeded the signs and not touched the strippers. I probably should’ve just not gone to the club in the first place.
“I’m— ”
“Don’t. Don’t say a fucking word.” Out of the corner of my eye, Illya’s hand flexed against the center console, and I clenched my jaw hard. I didn’t think I’d grabbed her that hard. Maybe I just touched a bad spot? Blowing out a haggard breath, she held herself up off the seat, on her arms, and guilt clawed at my throat. “Just drive.”
Illya was drenched in sweat that seeped through her leotard and shimmered on her face with each passing street lamp. The tables had turned, and I imagined that this ugly feeling in my chest was a more intense version of what she’d felt when my hand decided to try to twist off my wrist. Frowning as I gripped the wheel tightly with my good hand, I curled my right in my lap, and the silence rang shrilly in the confines of my car.
“I can’t believe you. Why can’t you just leave me alone already? You got Sylvie.” She grumbled more to herself than me, but Illya’s complaining was overly loud in such a quiet space. A scowl fixed on my face at the mention of that bitch. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since we picked her up, but she was already going fucking crazy. “And you calledmea pain.”
“Do you want me to take you to the hospital or something?” I didn’t know what else to offer, or what to say, and Illya shook her head viciously as she sucked in a shallow breath. “I already said I wanted to make sure you got home safe, but you weren’t there, so I came here.”
“I was an hour late, and now I had to leave early because of you, Theo.” She spat the reply like a viper, and I ground my teeth as irritation swept through me. “I don’t have the— the luxury of missing all those tips. You’re not doing me a favor.”
“Then why are you making me drive you home if you don’t want me around?” I drove under fifteen miles per hour, barely walking pace, and she shot me the nastiest glare. Scowling darkly, my eyelid twitched in agitation, and I glanced in the rearview mirror at her bike in my back seat. “You have your bike.”
“I can’t fucking ride it right now.” She hissed when she twisted her head too far, and guilt started to leak into my lungs. “You need to leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with Sylvie or Mateo or anything about that. I don’t care. I don’t want updates. I want to move on with my shitty life without worrying about being dragged into this shit again.”
“Illya.” Her arms shook from her effort, and I propped the wheel with my knee to rub my face in frustration. “Mateo doesn’t know you’re Sylvie's roommate. I didn’t tell him.”
My grumble earned me surprised silence, and I ran my fingers through my hair absently as my mind whirred furiously. How the fuck was I supposed to make this better? I was doing all I could to keep Illya out of Mateo’s sights, and it wasn’t all that difficult because he only cared about his baby, but . . .
“Why didn’t you?” Licking my teeth as I gripped the wheel again, I slowly eased into a wide turn, and Illya’s question bounced around in my skull. Why hadn’t I? After all, I would’ve made my work easier if I’d told Mateo what I knew. Glancing at her, with her pained, pale features and the muscles straining in her neck and shoulders, I pursed my lips thinly.
“If I told him, he’d probably nab you and hold you hostage with Sylvie. I don’t want that. Mateo’s my boss, but I wouldn’t spend time with him if he didn’t pay me a huge chunk of change.” She winced at my confession, and I reached with my mangled hand to cover her palm on the center console. Her fingers were ice cold and trembling, and I rubbed the top of her hand with my thumb. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Illya.”
“I bet you didn’t, but it still happened.” Graveness dragged down the corners of my mouth, and she sniffed hard from the passenger seat. “Listen, okay, I really, really don’t need this right now, okay? I’m dealing with my own shit, and I’m not particularly keen on looking over my shoulder forever, so just . . . just ignore me, and I’m going to forget this ever fucking happened.”
For what was probably a good reason, I just kept my mouth shut. I had a feeling Illya didn’t care what I said at this moment. She just wanted to get home and not be in such horrible pain. I understood that, at least. Not to mention that I kept fucking up every time I saw her, and our past encounters weren’t exactly in my favor right now.
Illya wasbeautifulwith her long face and slender form and nice, tight ass and her perky tits, but the more I learned about her, however begrudging, the stronger she seemed, too. She was the girl that beat the odds, and I thought that was sexier than her body. Casting her a sidelong look, I scanned her haggard face and the thick bead of sweat trickling down her jawline.
“Do you want to stop and— ”
“No, damnit! I want to go home!” Screeching at me, Illya slammed her fist into the dashboard, and her palm slipped out from under mine. Sitting in the seat fully, tears rolled down her cheeks in frustration and pain, and I trained my gaze on the road. “Take me home! Take me homenow!”
My face heated as she cried quietly in the passenger seat, and my knee bounced wildly from the tension gorging my muscles. I couldn’t get a read on her. Was she headstrong or a little weak-minded? Would she stab me in a fight or run away? An ugly, black blotch spread across my chest as her sniffles echoed against the windows, and I flexed my fingers against the wheel.
The minutes ticked by into arduous infinity before I pulled up in front of her disgusting apartment building, but Illya didn’t get out of the car. She looked kind of green when I turned on the overhead light like she was in so much pain she was going to throw up. Her face was ghostly pale, her glazed eyes unfocused under heavy lids, and I waited . . . and waited . . . and waited.
Leaving my car running, I climbed out of the driver’s side and pulled open the back door. Hoisting Illya’s bike out of my car, I left the busted lock and chain on the seat before heading for the building. My chest tightened with regret. I should’ve left her alone like she wanted.
What was I even doing? The thought had no answer I carried her bike up the stairs to her apartment door. I couldn’t remember the last woman I’d been with. It must’ve been when I was in Italy, and that was over ten years ago. With my deployments and my hand and all my drama, I’d just . . .no one wants to deal with a disabled veteran.
Illya was the first person in a long, long time that hadn’t stared at my hand like it belonged in a grotesque museum. Maybe that was why I was so fixated on her.
Propping her bike against her door, I took the stairs again, and Illya was struggling to get out of the passenger seat. My heart jumped into my throat at the tortured shadows playing on her face, and I fast-walked to pick her up. Her gasp sucked the heat from my neck and face, but some of the tension in her eased as I hooked my arm under her knees.
“Don’t scare me like that. What if you fell?” My growl didn’t provoke a response, and I scanned Illya before realization slammed into my gut. “Where’s your stupid fanny pack thing?”
“Huh?” She slurred heavily, and a single glance at Illya’s face told me she was on the verge of passing out. Her head flopped back only to jerk up with a pained gasp breaching her lips, and she tensed in my arms. Kicking the door shut, I ignored my own question for now as I carried her into the building and up the stairs. For once, I was glad my fingers got shredded and not my leg.
I wasn’t a dumbass. Every single important thing Illya owned could fit into that stupid fanny pack, which probably included her keys. Reaching the top of the stairs, I strode down the hallway toward her door, and I paused in front of it as my mind whirled. The first time I’d been here, I’d picked the locks, but I didn’t exactly have that option.
“Fuck it.” Tightening my grip on Illya’s firm body, I grabbed the knob with my bad hand and shoved my shoulder into the door. Jerking the knob to jar the door up, a grunt escaped me as the door gave way with a sharp splinter from the frame. “Fuck.”
Nothing had changed about Illya’s apartment since I’d last been here except for the fact that one of the cots was folded up on the floor. Somehow, she was still away, and I sat her down on the open cot before she lifted her hand up to push my face weakly.
“Go away. I ne-never want to see . . . see you again.” Her slow sputtering stung, but she laid down very carefully to turn away from me. Tears and sweat soaked her hair, and streams of green dripped down her neck and stained her shirt. Standing up straight, I clenched and released my good hand by my side as I debated what to do.
Not that any of my attempts to not fuck up have succeeded.Rubbing the back of my head and neck, I inhaled a deep, calming breath and took a step back. Gazing at her as she writhed on her cot, her neck craned hard, eyes squeezed in pain, I covered my mouth to hide my scowl.She’s got every right not to want to see me again.
“Damn.”
