Page 26
“Net, Zvyozdochka, vidimo, ya ne uspel dostatochno skoro.”
No, little star, apparently, I didn’t make it in time.
“Richard will be back soon.” Grabbing a carrot, I set it down on the cutting board and line up the knife lengthwise along the top. “You need to leave.”
“Net, Zvyozdochka. Ya nikuda ne ukhozhu.”
No, Little Star. I’m not going anywhere.
Dean’s warm, long fingers slide over the tops of my hands, softly taking the knife and carrot from me. I catch a glimpse of his wrinkled brow, the tension and tic of his jaw, the deep rise and fall of his chest. Like he’s taking a weapon from someone who’s about to self-destruct. I stutter a breath, stifling the little cry that falls out with it. Sliding a chair over, I take a seat next to Dean, leaning my pounding head against his thigh as he gets to work making dinner for my uncle. Once he’s plated the food and cleaned the kitchen, he grabs a backpack of my clothes from my room, laces his fingers with mine, and takes me with him. Through my pounding brain and crippling nausea, we walk along the winding dirt paths and stone sidewalks. All the while Dean is guiding me, holding me, and even carrying me when my body gives out. Shielding me from the streetlights and unwanted eyes.
I must have a moderate concussion. It’s not late, and along with the pounding of my head, I’ve been sleepy all day. Upon reaching Dean’s apartment, he helps me change into new clothes and tucks me into bed in the guest room.
Despite what happened and where my life is heading, I’m not worried about any of that right now. I close my eyes, cocooned in the plush duvet I picked out myself. My breaths evening and my muscles loosening as I breathe in the scent of coals left from a fire and the deep, earthy musk of Dean, and fall asleep.
I’m safe here.
“Thanks for the signal… The purple lantern was a nice touch.” Cain’s deep, hushed voice rumbles at my side. We’ve been back for a month, and I haven’t spoken to him since the night before we left. Hardly even seen him, in fact.
Keeping my eyes closed, I allow myself to rest and enjoy his fingers running through my hair.
“How’s construction going?” Dean’s voice comes from the foot of the bed.
“Good. I’ll be done in two weeks. Then we get started.” Cain’s voice lowers even more at the end.
Back and forth. Back and forth. The pads of his fingers move featherlight through my hair, grazing over my scalp, leaving me leaning into him like a purring kitten.
“What’s the plan until then?” Dean releases a sigh.
“She can’t go back there. Keep her here, I’ll alter the docs in the office, so it looks like she’s working nights at the clinic.”
“We need to do more. You need to take guardianship.”
“I want to, it’s just not safe for her… Not yet. There are too many loose pieces, too many wild cards… Soon.”
“You’re overthinking this, man…”
“Maybe… But if it keeps her safe, all the waiting will be worth it.”
“Alright… Need anything? I’m going to crash on the couch tonight.”
“No, thanks. Get some rest.”
I hear what sounds like a pat on Cain’s shoulder, then a few footsteps, and a click of the door.
Cain stays…
Cain’s fingers leave my hair for but a moment, and his footsteps round the foot of the bed. The mattress presses down as he climbs behind me, gently sliding his arms around my waist. His sharp nose runs through my hair as he inhales. Moving down my neck and ending with a kiss on my shoulder.
“I am so grateful that you are okay…” Cain whispers, gently constricting me in his hold. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
“Thank you for coming…” I whisper back. I’m grateful, I really am. But it hurts. The ache in my chest grows until I’m nearly doubling over in his arms. Do I need to be beaten into a concussion for him to see me? If I were in the hospital, would he stay away because people would see us?
“Always…”
Cain
Chapter 11
