A cold sliver of ice slid under my ribs. “How do they do that?”
Luka didn’t look away. “You are reminded what you represent. What is expected of you.” Another hard swallow. “What can be taken away.”
Shit.
“Taken away?”
He nodded. “Funding. Access to training. International assignments.” A beat, and then, quieter, “Your place.”
Jesus.
“That’s not pressure,” I said, my voice rougher now. “That’s control.”
“Yes.” He didn’t argue, or defend them. “That is why I have never acted on what I know about myself.”
For a moment I couldn’t speak.
“You said you’ve known you were gay since you were fourteen,” I said slowly.
“Yes. Ten years.”
“And in all that time…”
“I made a decision.” He said it as though it was simple, as though it hadn’t cost him anything to hold that line for that long. “I chose to wait, because there was no version of that choice that did not carry consequences I could not control.”
I stared at him, my chest constricting. “You mean you couldn’t risk it.”
“I mean,” he said evenly, “it would not only affect me.”
That made me pause. “Mila.”
He nodded once. “Our partnership. Our results. Our standing.” His gaze held mine, unflinching. “Everything is connected.”
I shuddered out a breath. “And now?” That was the part I couldn’t reconcile.
He was here. This was happening.
Luka didn’t hesitate. “Now, I am still aware of all of that.”
“And you’re doing this anyway.”
“Yes.”
The certainty in that single syllable hit harder than anything else. He wasn’t being reckless or careless. He’d made an informed choice.
“You could lose everything.”
Luka’s gaze held mine. “I know.”
There wasn’t any drama in the answer. That made it harder to hear.
“Then why?”
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before.
“Because I spent ten years making sure nothing happened unless I allowed it.”
I waited.
