Page 22

“He came back and asked again.”

Galana looks down at her fluffy socks. Something passes across her face that I recognize. I used to see it in the mirror in my father’s house. A person who has never once been asked what she wants, and has stopped expecting to be.

“Viktor says I can say no,” she says quietly. “But then we all lose everything. That’s not really the same as being allowed, is it?”

“No,” I say. “It isn’t.”

She nods, like I’ve confirmed something she already knew. Then she gives me a small, watery smile and goes back inside.

I eat the blini. They’re very good.

Evaria comes out a short time later. She’s wearing jeans and an enormous sweater, and she’s got her hair up in that knot again, already falling down on one side. She walks straight across the drive without looking at Garick’s men, opens my passenger door, and climbs in like she’s been doing it for years.

Then she just looks at me.

I don’t know what she’s going to say. I’ve been sitting here since she left working out what I’m going to say, and I still don’t have it.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.” I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face. It feels weird, but in a good way.

Her cheeks go pink. “Galana said she brought you breakfast.”

“She did.”

“She seems to like you. Milana, too.”

“But not Zhenya,” I offer, because I know it to be true.

“That’s what’s so confusing about it.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and takes a breath. “I don’t regret it. Last night. I want you to know that before you start thinking things.”

“I wasn’t thinking things.”

“You were. You’ve got a face like you’ve been thinking things since four in the morning.”

I have. I’ve been thinking about the way she said my name. About her hand on my cheek. About Garick’s men by the gate and how close they were, and how I’d have put every one of them in the river if they’d so much as looked this way.

And something else.

Every day. The truth, even when it’s ugly.

“I didn’t use anything,” I say quietly.

She nods slowly, biting her lip. “I know,” she says.

That’s all. She doesn’t look away. Her cheeks go pinker, and she holds my eyes and lets the silence sit between us, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. I can’t tell if it’s fear or something else.

I know what it is for me. I’ve known since half past one this morning, sitting alone in this truck with her warmth still on me. I’m not going to say it. Not yet. Not in a car on her dead father’s driveway with Kolya pretending not to watch.

She reaches across and squeezes my hand.

“I’ve got the school on Wednesday, and Zhenya wants to talk to a lawyer in Evanston today about the trust, and I promised I’d go with her.” She bites her lip. “Will you come back tonight?”

“Yes.”

She leans over, kisses me once, quick and sure on the mouth, and climbs out.

I watch her all the way to the door. She doesn’t look back this time.