His arms drop for just a second, then he turns me around to face him.
“You have me,” he says, looking directly into my eyes. “I’ll make this a good Christmas for you.”
I press my face into his chest, breathing in his warmth while he holds me without saying anything else.
“I miss her so much,” I whisper, and my throat aches while my eyes sting with tears.
“If I could take away your pain, I would.” His voice stays low and steady. He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Myfather’s still breathing, but he’s dead to me now. I know what that loss feels like. You won’t be alone ever again,zaychik. I promise.”
I nod.
He runs a hand over my head, slow and careful with his fingers threading through my hair. I let the comfort wash over me.
“Come inside,” he murmurs. “You’ll get sick. I’ll make you tea and we can talk more. If we stay out here, I think my balls might actually freeze off.”
I laugh and let him go, stepping back reluctantly.
He grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together, and we walk back into the house. I kick off my shoes while he hangs my coat on the bar chairs, then starts making tea. When he turns back around with the kettle, I notice his knuckles are cut up fresh, bruised, and still a little bloody.
“What happened to your hands?” I ask, nodding toward the damage.
“Filed a complaint into someone’s face at the office. Very hands-on approach.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. His father refuses to acknowledge him anymore. All his orders come through his brothers now, as if Alexei doesn’t exist.
He turns around as the kettle starts to rumble with water just about to boil, then brings me a mug with the tea bag already in it.
“Thanks.”
He nods toward the living room.
I follow him with my tea and sit down next to him. He pulls me closer until my legs are draped across his thighs, one hand on my back, the other resting over my shins. I settle my head on his shoulder, sinking into the warmth of his body. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I nod and bring my cup to my lips for a careful sip. His hand moves over my back in slow, lazy strokes, up and down, warm through the fabric of my shirt.
Is this crazy? Maybe. But I’m past the point of caring.
I’m curled up with someone who kills people for a living. Who’s got fresh cuts on his knuckles from whatever he did an hour ago. But when he holds me like this, none of that matters. I knew what he was when I chose him. Still choosing him now.
“Are you okay with everything that happened?” He looks so sad, it breaks my heart.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s okay if you’re not,” I whisper.
“I’m not good at talking about what I feel,zaychik. I’ve spent my whole life learning how not to.”
I let out a breath and nod against him.
He told me he saw his mother break apart when she found out her brother died and that he was terrified the same would happen to him. His whole life he thought his own family would turn on him if they ever found out he was gay.
Twenty-seven years of hiding who he was. All those years thinking the people who were supposed to love him would reject him for something he couldn’t control.
I’m grateful we found each other when we did, even if it was because he broke into that clinic and pulled a gun on me.
“I love you so much.” I press a kiss into his chest.
I feel him let out a breath and lean down to kiss the top of my head. “I would rip myself to pieces if it kept you alive,zaychik. What I feel for you goes past love into something consuming, something that lives in my bones. I need you like oxygen. Without you, there’s nothing left worth saving.”
