Head pounding, body weary from all she’d endured that night, Maggie turned over onto her side, being careful not to disturb Gremlin, and drifted into uneasy dreams.
The next thing Maggie knew, she was being awoken by knocking on the front door. It felt like only minutes had passed and she swore, her body stiff from having been in the same position too long. Glancing out the window, she realized it was after dark. She’d slept all fucking day.
There was another light knock and with a sigh, Maggie threw the blanket off, kicked the foot of the recliner down, and started the short distance to the door. She’d only made it a couple steps when she realized she had no idea who might be on the other side. The thought made her pulse quicken. She remembered the threatening note, the one that was now sitting in an evidence locker, and her heart began to hammer like an anvil in her chest.
Anyone could be coming to visit. Should she get her gun? Answer it? Maggie hesitated, barely daring to breathe as she slowed her pace, listening for some clue, but there was only silence.
Gingerly, Maggie began to unlock the door and then wrenched it open, being mindful to use the wood as cover.
She was surprised and relieved to see none other than Anatoly standing there. He was holding a white bag in his hands and there was a wide, pleasant grin spread across his bearded face.
“Dobryy vecher, Detective,” he greeted her, his smile never wavering.
Maggie stood in the doorway and stared at him. “What is this?”
“It is borscht!” Anatoly replied, his tone chipper.
“What the hell is borscht?”
He gave her a mock stern expression. “You speak to God with that mouth?”
“Not if I can help it,” she fired back. “Just give me the damn borscht…”
“It is not damned. It is blessed! It was made by priest.” He winked at her as he passed the bag over.
Unable to resist, she smiled back and opened the door a little wider for him to slip inside. “So, what even is borscht?”
Anatoly didn’t come in like she expected, but remained standing there. “It is soup. May I enter?” he asked.
She blinked at him, indicated the open door, and when he still did not cross the threshold, she relented. “Yes, of course. Though I have no idea how you found out where I live. Should I be worried?”
“No need for concern,” he responded, finally stepping inside so she could close and lock the door. “Lieutenant Martin was kind enough to give me address so I could deliver borscht.”
It was instantly strange to have a priest in her apartment and a relief to be in Anatoly’s soothing presence again. Whether or not the weird soup was any good, the gesture was thoughtful and appreciated. Nobody else at the station had bothered to acknowledge she’d been in a car crash, but maybe that was expecting too much. Hell, the only reason Martin had bothered to give out her address was no doubt to irk her.
“Not a fan of Martin telling people my business, but thank you, Anatoly.” It was the nicest way she could phrase it.
The priest appeared sheepish for a moment, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. “I suspect he only told me to get under your skin and I still asked him. Izvinite, Detective. Perhaps I should have asked you directly, but I wanted it to be surprise.”
So many things ran through her mind as they stood there just staring awkwardly at one another. She wanted to make him feel better, but also be clear that he couldn’t turn this into a habit and yet, that line felt blurry even as she thought it into existence.
“I’ll give you a pass since you brought soup,” she finally blurted, unable to hide her smirk. “I don’t think anyone, in adulthood, has ever cooked for me before…”
His eyes twinkled down at her as he smiled, lighting up his face in a way that made her heartbeat quicken. “I do not cook often, but this felt like special occasion. I hope you enjoy it, it is mother’s recipe.”
Maggie had started to lead him to the kitchen, but stopped short at the bombshell he’d just dropped. “You made me your mother’s soup?” Her jaw clenched and she fought the sting of tears. Was being emotional part of having a concussion?
“Da, is that problem?”
She quickly shook her head and turned away so he couldn’t see her expression. She didn’t want to be a vulnerable mess in front of him again. It took a moment, but by the time they arrived in the kitchen she had swallowed her feelings down, stuffing them into the dark where they belonged.
Chapter Ten
Anatoly had spent the day thinking of nothing but Maggie. Their conversation weighed on him, all she’d been through giving him new insight into her nature. No wonder she was so on edge, so intense. She had to be and not just because she was a cop, but because she had made a mistake that nobody would let her live down. This mindset was not sustainable; eventually she would break or slip up, and then what would become of her?
Perhaps they had only known each other a short time, but he still caught himself worrying for her. Something had to change and he was determined to be her support until it did. Even if all he could do was bring her soup and check in on her.
He hadn’t relaxed until he’d settled on this course of action and then it was like everything fell perfectly into place, which told him he was doing the right thing.
