That’s what I get for playing with fire,I think bitterly, but the metaphor’s fitting, really.
Especially when Anika is like the sun in my cold, dreary existence. I have to do whatever it takes to keep her safe—even if that’s from me.
I wonder if I could talk Leo and Sora into taking her in.
I don’t doubt my brother would if I begged him, but the thought of letting Anika go nearly breaks me.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive it when I feel like I’m unraveling at the seams after only one night without her.
Combing my fingers into my hair, I groan, releasing some of the building pain that threatens to crush me. I can’t take it any longer.
Glancing toward the soft pink horizon, I determine that it’s the best I’m going to do on my plan to wait until morning.
I need to see her.
Still, it’s impossibly early, and I have no doubt that the old crone would put me down like a mad dog if she thought I was coming to make a scene.
So I force myself to take a shower, brush my teeth, and put on something decent.
By then, it’s six fifteen.
Good enough,I decide, and stride purposefully toward the door.
Even after a full night of thinking about it, I don’t know what to say to Anika.
I fully intend to get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness if that’s what it takes.
I’m still wrestling with how to start my apology as I reach the door to Svetlana’s apartment.
My stomach knots as I realize I’m out of time. But I can’t wait any longer.
Combing my hair back out of my eyes, I take one more moment to pull myself together, then I knock on the unassuming door. I can hear shuffling behind it, and after several agonizing minutes, Svetlana opens the door.
Her eyes narrow, her expression turning sober when she sees me standing at her threshold, and I get the sinking feeling that she’s not too pleased by my presence.
“Is Anika in there?” I ask, trying to get a glimpse of her through the narrow crack in the door. “I’d like to speak with her—if that’s alright with you.” Not that the old woman could stop me if I demanded to have my way, but after last night, I don’t trust myself to know what’s best for Anika.
Svetlana huffs and lets the door swing wider. “You should ask her yourself if she’s ready to talk to you,” she says cheekily.
I bite back my quick retort when my eyes find Anika across the room.
She looks adorably rumpled, her silky blond hair mussed and falling in tangles around her face.
Her eyes are slightly puffy, like she spent much of last night crying, and my heart squeezes because I know I’m the reason.
She straightens, pulling her robe tighter around her body as she traps her lower lip between her teeth.
It nearly undoes me to see her so hesitant as she looks at me.
“Anika,” I breathe, taking an involuntary step toward her.
Somehow, with an iron grip on my will, I manage to keep it to one step, and I slowly lift my hand, reaching for her.
I turn my palm up in a submissive gesture, willing her to come closer.
My pulse quickens when she takes a tentative step, then all at once, she rushes across the room, tears spilling from her eyes as she dashes straight into my arms.
I’m struck dumb, my breath trapped in my lungs as I tense, completely stunned.
