Throwing off the blankets, she grabbed a robe and wrapped it around herself.It was nearing winter, and the cabin was getting cold once again.Through the summer, it had been hot as hell, and she had no choice but to leave the windows open.The only problem was the animals that somehow got inside.Waking up to find a bunny in the living room had been adorable.At one point, there had also been a deer poking its head in the window.That didn’t matter, though.What mattered was, it was cold right now, and she needed a hot chocolate, or some warm milk.
She kept thinking about her grandmother’s advice, and she couldn’t help but keep putting Dmitriy in that place.He was no knight in shining armor, even though he had helped her live.Dmitriy didn’t need to keep her alive, yet he had done so.The anger and hurt were gone, and now she was grateful to him.
Stepping into the kitchen, she took a second to decide if she wanted warm milk or hot chocolate.Hot chocolate won.There was no microwave, so it had to be heated on the stove.Pouring the milk into the saucepan, she allowed it to simmer.She couldn’t help but glance across the room at the small setup with her sewing machine.It was two small tables, a swivel chair, so she could be working at her sewing machine, and then turn to her overlocker.She often used the floor to cut out whatever pattern she wanted.
Dmitriy gave her whatever she wanted.He was a good guy who had no choice but to do bad things.But he wasn’t a bad guy.He didn’t kill her.When she stabbed him with a fork, he didn’t attack her.He dealt with the stab, and she felt so freaking guilty, she had never hurt anyone before in her life.
Anastasia had taken self-defense classes, which was Grandma Lottie’s advice.“Always learn and be as independent as possible, but know when to be taken care of.”That was her advice, and how she had been able to survive the last four years on her own.
“Couldn’t sleep?”Dmitriy asked.
“No.”She looked down at her pan and saw the milk had come to a boil.“Do you want to share a hot chocolate?”
“Sure.”
This surprised her.
She grabbed the hot chocolate mix, added it to the saucepan, getting it to the right consistency, then poured out a large mugful and walked across the room to take a seat on the sofa.
Dmitriy sat right beside her.She was so aware of how close he was.He had large hands, rough from doing hard work.She had a feeling this cabin looked the way it did because Dmitriy had been the one to fix it up.
She didn’t know anything about him.There were always whispers.He was not like other man who puffed out their chests, or showed off their thick muscles, but living with him the past six months, she knew he had them.She also knew he was covered in ink.
“Do you have any family?”she asked, after taking a sip of the hot chocolate and handing it back to him.
“No.”
She watched as he blew across the surface of the mug, and then took a sip.
“Do you like it?”she asked.
“Yes.”
She chuckled.“Do you know how to elaborate with your answer?”
“Ask me questions that require it.”
He turned his dark brown gaze toward her.She knew so many people feared that look, but she was not one of them.Dmitriy had saved her.
“Where is your family?”she asked.
“Dead.I killed them, and yes, they deserved it.”
“Why did they deserve it?”
“They were fucking sick bastards, and some of the scars I have are because of them.”
“What?”she asked.
“My parents liked to see how far they could push their son before he passed out.They would leave me bleeding for hours before getting a doctor.My dad liked to use his belt on me, and see how many cuts and bruises he could make.My mom liked to use her fists, and then attempt to make it all better.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“When I was strong enough, and I had training, I killed them.”
Her mouth dropped open.“I’m so sorry,” she said.She had known some parents were sick and twisted.She had seen girls and women with black eyes or broken noses.Her father had never raised a hand to her.There were times he would chase her around the house, and she would run away, but the worst that happened was he tickled her to the point she nearly wet her pants.
“It’s not your fault.Sometimes it is best to stick with singular answers, don’t you think?”
