Mikail Morozov feels a lot for me, but not romantic love. The only thing I’ve always craved. The only thing he won’t gift me.
Ramona approaches me, and every muscle in my body freezes. She comes to an abrupt stop, noticing my discomfort. While I know her, I refuse to get too comfortable.
“I’m sorry.” She offers me a sympathetic look, taking a step back.
The broken pianist, that’s what she sees.
I shrug. “It’s not your fault.”
My distrust of people runs so deep, it’s embedded in my DNA. No one can, and no one will, hurt me again. Nor use me to hurt the people I love.
While she has nothing to do with the life I was born into, I can’t risk it.
Ramona walks out, leaving me alone, and I expel a long breath laced with my inability to escape this ingrained setting, imprisoning me.
While I’ve gathered more courage since Calla entered my life, tapped into a bolder, fearless side of me, I am still wary. Thinking about my sister-in-law and best friend, I pluck my phone from my small purse resting on the armchair, sending her a text.
Miss you.
She immediately replies.
Miss you too. Next time, we’ll go on a girl’s trip.
Sure we can pull that off?
You doubt me? When don’t I make the things I want happen?
Her self-assured reply paints a smile on my face.
Never.
See. So, has my brother gotten any new gray hairs since we left?
Calla! He has none, and it wouldn’t be my fault.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, but we both know the truth.
The truth must remain buried. No one can know.
Sighing, I reply.
Go enjoy your honeymoon and stop seeing things.
Sure, I’m the one seeing things. I hope you drive him crazy.
He’s your brother.
So protective of him…I wonder why?
There’s no point in denying it, so I type instead.
It will never happen. It’s just wishful thinking.
Blame it on your brother, who made me realize dreams come true. But you must do everything it takes to make them happen.
I don’t know what about her made me seek her out. Calla could have killed my brother, and she tried, but luckily for all of us, she failed. What impressed me was her larger-than-life confidence. That woman was bound, shot, but stared as if I were the one in shackles. Which was true.
I could have lost my brother. Instead, I gained a best friend, a sister.
