But looking at Alex, his tiny fingers clutching onto D’s shirt, I can’t bring myself to do it.
But why does it feel like a yes?
I’m torn between what I should do and what I want to do, and the space between those two is so thin that I can hardly breathe.
Alex turns, looking at me, his eyes wide. “We get icecweamnow, Momma?”
I swallow hard, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill. I force a smile, nodding. “Yeah, sweetheart. We’ll get ice cream.”
Alex turns to D, his little face all scrunched up in determination. He climbs closer, his tiny fingers reaching up to D’s face, patting his cheek like he’s trying to fix him somehow. “Papa, you rest up,‘kay?” He looks back at me, his blue eyes big and serious. “We get icecweamto make Papa’souchiego away, right, Momma?”
D huffs out a strained laugh, and I see him wince, his eyes pinching at the edges. “Kid, you don’t have to worry about that,” he mutters, though he’s not fooling anyone. The pain’s etched into every line on his face.
I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, listen to your kid, D. Maybe for once, you do what you’re told. Rest.” I try to sound casual, but there’s a tightness in my chest that won’t quit.
D’s hand moves, brushing against the small of my back, his touch so light it sends a shiver through me. His eyes lock on mine, and I swear he knows exactly what that does to me. There are no words exchanged—just a look. But it’s enough. Enough for me to see the promise he’s trying to make, the one he’s finally ready to keep.
Alex nods, his hand still pressed to D’s cheek. “I get Papaice cweam. Make ouchiego bye-bye,” he declares like it’s a fact of life. He gives D’s nose a little boop, and I swear I almost lose it right there—just from how damn innocent and sure he is.
D looks at me, and for a second, all that cocky bravado drops away. There’s something raw in his eyes—vulnerability mixed with a kind of awe. His hand comes up to cover Alex’s, his thumb brushing over those tiny fingers.
“Guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” His voice is quiet, almost like he’s speaking more to himself than to us.
I step closer, ruffling Alex’s wild hair. “Nope, no choice at all,” I say, keeping my voice light, even though my heart feels heavy.This—right here, with D trying and Alex believing—is something I never let myself think was possible.
Shit. This could ruin everything.
85
Dimitri
3 months later
“Suka, that’s the tenth one today,” I hiss.
I spit the gum wrapper to the side, adding it to the growing pile beside my chair. “Nicoblock,” or whatever the hell it’s called, this gum’s supposed to help me quit. Instead, it’s got me chewing like a damn cow while the sting of nicotine withdrawal gnaws at my insides.
Hell, I’d trade it all for a cigarette right now, but promises were made—Alex’s big blue eyes staring up at me, asking if I could “stop making the stinky smoke.”—Yeah, that promise.
THWACK!
The sound of a fist striking flesh, followed by a groan of pain, pulls me out of my thoughts.
I glance over, seeing Oleg charging forward, fists raised, his face twisted in frustration. Erik’s laugh rings out, light and mocking, as he dodges another blow.
“Blyat’, stop jumping around like a fucking grasshopper!” Oleg growls, his voice carrying across the gym.
“Come on, Oleg, you can do better than that,” Erik taunts, his feet barely touching the ground as he moves, always one step ahead. “Or are you really just that slow?”
“Shut your mouth before I break it,” Oleg snaps, swinging a heavy right hook. Erik ducks, slipping out of reach, his grin infuriatingly wide.
WHIFF!
Erik dodges, weaving like a damn cobra, a sly grin on his lips. Oleg’s fist crashes into air, and the guy’s fury skyrockets. His face is blood-red, jaw clenched, eyes crazed with rage, lips pressed in a razor-thin line.
I snort. “Oleg, stop trying to punch his head off and go for the gut,” I call out. “The bastard’s too quick for you to hit up top.”
Oleg grunts in response, shifting his stance, his eyes narrowing at Erik. Erik, of course, keeps up his shit-eating grin. “Aw, come on, D. Where’s the fun if he doesn’t try?”
