“Yes,” I whisper. “God, yes.”
And that’s the problem.
“Maybe things aren’t like you think,” Noah says. “Sometimes you find family in ways you least expect.”
I stare at him.
He’s been more than just someone to work with, train. Every day we grow closer.
“Maybe you should go back to a job at the café. Where it’s safer,” I say.
He leans gently closer. “I wouldn’t leave you alone here. Understaffed. The town is going crazy for your traditional Russian baked goods. And no one makes a scone like you.”
“It’s not about the help,” I say. Glance at the door. “She’s seen you here more than once. She’ll know we’re friends. That’s not safe.”
“Fuck her,” Noah says. “You don’t have to hold that alone either.”
Shock washes over me.
Noah never cusses. Even when we’re tossing sarcasm around.
And also he’d face her?
“She’s dangerous. You cross her you end up hurt. Or worse,” I say.
“Like I said. You’ll find you have family where you didn’t realize. Vitaly, I’ve got you. My family has you.” Noah puts a hand on my arm.
I cover it with my own. “No. And you see why I can’t start dating? Oksana would use that to make this worse.”
“Date her,” Noah grins. “You deserve to be happy. Things aren’t always what they seem. And that’s not a bad thing.”
“You talk cryptic,” I say and laugh.
“It’ll make sense.”
The way he says it.
Not like an offer.
Like a fact already in motion.
Like he knows something I don’t.
“Your... family?” I repeat slowly.
He just smiles. Soft. Almost apologetic.
There’s something in his voice I can’t read.
He stands and leaves to get back to work.
I follow.
The warmth of the kitchen hits harder than it should after the cold.
Like stepping from a grave into sunlight.
Disorienting. Almost painful.
