“The second reason,” Sergei continued, “is that I joined the Foreign Intelligence Service. I can’t be gay, Adrik.”
“So what?”
“The third reason is I’m engaged. To a woman. Do you get it yet?”
Like stones, each reason struck him, the impact hard and unforgiving. Something inside him folded in on itself, a slow, sinking sensation leaving his chest scraped raw. His hands trembled before he could stop them, the words landing with a force he couldn’t absorb all at once.
“I get that you don’t want me in that way,” he said. “But why can’t we be friends?”
“I can’t associate with criminal elements or a gay man.”
The words knocked the air out of him. The room tilted slightly. His head throbbed. “That’s what I am to you now? A gay criminal element?”
Sergei didn’t flinch. “Tell me about Hans Schroeger.”
A wave of nausea washed over Adrik as his stomach plummeted. “How do you know about Hans?”
“I know everything you’ve been doing. I have access.”
“I love Hans,” Adrik said, voice shaking. “But that doesn’t mean I want you out of my life.”
“It has to be this way. For your safety and mine.”
Adrik blinked hard, but tears still filled his eyes. “If you say so.”
Sergei sighed. “Your father called off the hit on both of us. So, return to New York City.”
“Why is my mother in Siberia?”
“Because your father was a threat, and I was stationed here. But Viktor is not a threat anymore.”
“I see.” Adrik stood slowly. “I need to leave. I’ll call a car.”
“I’ll bring you,” Sergei said. “And your mother has been in contact with your father. Don’t stay too long if you don’t want to see him.”
“Don’t bother,” Adrik said coldly. “You won’t see or hear from me again.”
He finished his drink, shoved the blanket aside, and stood.
“No reason for you to call a car,” Sergei said again.
Adrik ignored him, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. Sergei followed, pulling on his own coat. They drove in silence. Adrik leaned his head against the window, watching the snow blur past, trying not to fall apart.
When they reached his mother’s house, Sergei parked.
“Live your life with Hans,” he said softly. “Be happy.”
Adrik opened the door immediately, not wanting to hear another word.
But Sergei grabbed his arm. “Hey. I haven’t stopped loving you. But it has to be this way. Don’t contact me again.”
Adrik nodded once, jerked free, and walked inside without looking back.
He threw his jacket on the floor and went straight to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets until he found a bottle of something strong. He poured a full glass—no ice, no thought—and carried it to the guest bedroom.
He collapsed onto the bed and pulled out his phone.
Hans answered on the first ring. “Hey, I was thinking about you. I miss you so much, Adrik. You okay?”
