by Apryl Baker
Scratch that. She wasn’t damn tired. She was soul weary tired. How had she let her life get so screwed up, and why couldn’t she have met Viktor first? She wouldn’t have Delia if she’d met Viktor first, though, so she supposed one good thing came out of the biggest mistake of her life. Her baby girl meant more to her than anyone or anything. She’d suffer through the abuse of the last seven years all over again for her daughter.
She slipped under the water, letting its warmth soothe every ache she had. Her hair splayed out around her, and she looked up through the water, the lights distorted. It was how her life felt right now. Distorted and out of control.
When she couldn’t hold her breath another minute, she sat up, the water pouring off her in rivulets. The smallest movement hurt, but she forced herself to grab the soap. She wanted to scrub the feel of her attacker’s hands off her. A shudder rolled through her at the memory, and she felt around her head until she found the tender spot. She’d cracked his nose, and he’d all but pulled her hair out in the same spot. Her head had taken a beating.
She scrubbed herself, much like she had many a night after Roger came home feeling in the mood. She’d hated him on her skin too. The man who’d come for her today meant to leave with her. She had a feeling he’d have taken her straight to Roger, and then God knew what would have happened. Her ex was crazy. She suspected he’d kill her before he let anyone else have her.
Knowing she’d been seen around town with another man might have set him off. He was a jealous, possessive ass who’d beaten her on more than one occasion because she’d smiled at a stranger. She could only imagine the depth of his depravity if he suspected she was sleeping with Viktor, as his mother implied. There was no telling what lies that woman filled his head with. Sara had never liked his mother, but then again, his mother never liked her either. No one was good enough for her baby boy.
She snorted. That woman was as blind as a bat when it came to Roger. She’d never believe Roger was capable of hurting her, let alone Delia. Roger fed his mother lie after lie, and she happily went along with it. Her only saving grace, at least in Sara’s eyes, was that she adored Delia. She loved her granddaughter as much as she did Roger and would do anything in the world for her. It was why Sara told her she could visit Delia at the farm whenever she wanted.
She rolled her aching shoulders. Time to do the hair. She pulled the drain on the tub and worked to stand up. It took her three tries. Her back protested loudly. She sat on the edge of the tub and turned the water back on and adjusted the temperature until it was hot enough to pull the little lever for the shower. Hot water sprayed down, and she struggled to stand. It took her four tries. Tomorrow would be worse, though. She knew that from experience. The soreness would set it. Better to get her hair washed tonight than try to do it tomorrow when her muscles would be screaming in protest.
It took her fifteen minutes to get her hair washed, and when she finally managed to turn the water off, it was starting to run cold. She sat there for a minute before she reached for the towel. Her muscles were protesting, her face was on fire, and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed.
It took her a minute to dry off, but she managed that and to get some of the water out of her hair. Viktor’s black t-shirt was the softest thing she’d ever felt. He must use extra fabric softener. Next came her panties. Her mother sent her down granny panties. White things that covered every inch of her. She laughed out loud. Leave it to her mom to remind her not to be letting things get out of hand. Not that she was going to, but still, her mother’s not so subtle hint was cute.
Her fuzzy snowman pajama bottoms slid up effortlessly, and she slipped on her fuzzy socks. Despite the warm bath, she was freezing. Probably a little shock left over from the attack. Sara knew she hadn’t fully let herself deal with what happened earlier. There had been too much going on, and Delia was there. She never let her daughter see her break down. In Delia’s eyes, Mommy was the strongest person around.
Just taking a bath and getting dressed wore her out. As much as she didn’t want to do it, she called for Viktor. He was there within seconds, confirming her suspicion he’d sat on the bed, waiting.
His gaze raked over her, and she felt the blush heat her cheeks. Without a word, he picked up a clean towel and used it on her hair. He worked until it was mostly dry. Then he found a hair brush and pulled it through her hair. He was ever so gentle, and not once did he pull it.
He laid the brush on the sink and took a moment to rewrap her sprained wrist. She’d been too exhausted to do it. Once he was done, he picked her up. Instead of the bed, he carried her into the living room where he had pillows piled up on the couch. He sat her there and covered her with a throw. Viktor left her and went into the kitchen. He was in there for a few minutes, and she strained her ears to see if she could tell what he was doing. She faintly heard the sounds of Max and Ruby playing upstairs, so at least Delia was in bed. It might only be a little after eight, but it was important she get into bed. School came early.
When Viktor came back, he had a tray. A cup of hot tomato soup sat on it, along with his half-eaten meatball sub. Two drinks, one with a straw sticking out of it, were beside the food. He placed the tray on the coffee table and sat beside her, lifting her feet and settling them in his lap.
“I could hear your belly growling all the way in the bedroom.” He fussed with her blanket before he handed her the steaming cup of soup. “This’ll help with the shakes too. Getting food in you should settle your nerves down a bit.”
“How did you know I was shaky?”
He smiled that lazy smile she was growing to love. “When I went into my first dangerous situation over in Afghanistan, I was scared. I didn’t let anyone else know that, of course. I was nineteen and cocky. But after it was over, the shakes set in. It was a combination of fear, relief, and the adrenaline rush that finally went away. My sergeant made us all eat. He taught us how to deal with the aftermath of war. Food always helps. Food and some creature comforts.”
“Like my fuzzy PJs and my favorite throw?”
“Yeah, things like those.” He motioned to her food. “Eat.”
She blew across the soup and took a sip. The flavor burst over her tongue even as the heat warmed her hands. Viktor watched her to make sure she could manage before he picked up his own food.
“Why didn’t you eat? I was in the bathroom a long time.”
“Because you didn’t.” Such a simple statement, but there was a wealth of unsaid words behind it.
“I don’t understand.”
“You tried to eat earlier, but I saw how hard it was to open your mouth for the sub. There was no way in hell I was gonna stuff my face when you were hungry and unable to eat. No man puts himself above his woman.”
“I’m not your woman,” she whispered. His words almost caused the waterworks to spring. He’d put her needs above his own. Something Roger had never done. She’d gotten so used to being dead last when it came to her own needs, she’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone take care of her.
It felt wonderful and scary all at the same time.
“But you are.” Viktor squeezed her foot through the throw. “Wanna watch a movie with me?”
“I can do that.” She didn’t bother arguing with him over the whole “my woman” claim. It wouldn’t matter if she did. He’d just keep correcting her.
He turned on the TV and fiddled with the remote until he managed to bring up Netflix. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Supernatural?”
“What’s that?”
“Oh Em Gee…you don’t know what Supernatural is? Where have you been living? Under a rock on Jupiter?”
“We didn’t get a lot of TV in Afghanistan, and when I came home, I was so busy getting my company started, I didn’t really have time for TV. I guess I got used to going without.”
“What was it like?” She set her soup down and picked up the drink with the straw, fitting it between her lips. So much easier.
“Hmm?”
“Being in Afghanistan.”
He sat back and kicked off his shoes so he could put his feet up on the table. “It was interesting. Scary as hell every single day. You constantly had to be on your guard. We never knew what was going to happen when we left our base. The stress alone could eat you alive. It made me appreciate home more. I was surprised Conner signed up for a second tour.”
“The twin?”
He nodded. “They offered him some kind of special assignment that’s still classified. He can’t talk about it.” His face turned troubled. “We’re all worried about him. He didn’t finish his tour, and he came back different. Harder, colder. He never laughs anymore. He used to be the funniest one of all of us, even more than Dimitri.”
“Really?” Dimitri was always joking. It was one of the things she loved about Viktor’s brother.
“Really.” The sadness that slipped into his voice made her heart ache for him. “He’s not the same person he was. We’re all scared he’s gone to this dark place we’ll never get him back from.”
“I’m sorry.”
He bowed his head, and when he lifted it, some of the pain had cleared from his eyes. “Enough about Conner. Tell me about this movie you want to watch.”
“It’s not a movie. It’s a show. There’s, like, thirteen seasons or something. It’s about two brothers who go out and fight the evil in the world.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “That sounds cheesy, Sara Jane. Don’t tell me you’re gonna make me sit through some chick flick in disguise.”
She smacked his arm. “It is not!”
Then she realized what she’d done. She hit him. What was he going to do? She looked at him from beneath her lashes.
“Owww, woman.” He gave his arm an exaggerated rub. She hadn’t hurt him, and he didn’t look mad.
“Sam and Dean are not in any way, shape, or form a chick flick.” She pushed her fear down. He kept telling her he wouldn’t raise a hand against her, so she decided to try to believe him. “They’re awesome.”
“Not as awesome as you.” He picked up her legs and scooted closer, letting them rest across his knees. He cupped her bruised cheek softly. “I know that was hard for you just now. Your first instinct is to flinch, and you decided to trust me instead. Thank you, moye sokrovishche.”
She cleared her throat. Of course, he’d noticed. He noticed everything when it came to her.
He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers with the barest touch. Her breath caught at the touch. It was sweet and gentle.
“I wish I could really kiss you, but with your lip split open, I’m going to have to wait. But I want to kiss you, Sara Jane, and when I finally do, you’re going to realize I’m a keeper.”
“You’re a keeper?” She laughed at his innocent expression. “Don’t dads tell their sons that about the girl?”
“Pfft. You know it’s true.” His expression turned serious. “It works both ways, you know.”
“What does?”
“You belong to me, and I belong to you.”
She blinked. She’d been so busy being irritated over his claims of possession, she hadn’t stopped to think about what else that meant.
“Do you want me to belong to you, Sara Jane?” he whispered, his eyes unsure. “Because I want to belong to you so very, very much.”
She lost the ability to breathe. The vulnerability in his expression made this tightness in her chest rear up and squeeze her heart.
“Maybe.” She cleared her throat, fighting the emotions threatening to make her forget everything but the man beside her.
He smiled and caressed her face, his thumb stroking over her swollen lip so softly she barely felt it. He didn’t make a big deal of her hesitant agreement, for which she was grateful.
“Now, let’s watch this show of yours. We can talk more in the morning…wait. You’re not one of those people who has the insane urge to tell me everything that’s going to happen before it happens, are you?”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she found herself laughing at him. He looked so serious. “And if I am?”
“Then we might need to end this relationship right here and now.”
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?”
He brushed another butterfly kiss over lips before settling back against the cushions, his hands resting on her legs. “Bring it on, darlin’.”
Sara took the remote and started the show from the pilot episode. And it wasn’t only the show that began. She had a feeling her true beginning was starting right here, right now.
For the first time in weeks, her confusion cleared, and her heart opened just a crack. Mr. Bossy Pants might not be so bad after all.
“This is not a good idea.”
She kept packing, and he started to pace. “You aren’t well enough to travel. Your face is bruised from here to hell and back, and I saw you trying to walk down the stairs this morning.”
“I’m going, Viktor.”
Viktor growled. This woman was going to be the death of him. “It’s just one damn signing, Sara. Your fans will understand if you’re too sick to go.”
“But I’m not sick, Viktor, and I am going. With or without you.”
“Why are you pushing this?” He stopped in front of her. “Don’t you understand what seeing you in pain does to me? You nearly took ten years off my damn life when I saw you sprawled out in that stairwell all bruised and lifeless.”
Her gaze softened, but her resolve was still there. Dammit. Was he going to have to lock her in the damn bathroom?
“Viktor, this is important to me.” She held up her hand when he started to argue. “So many times I had to cancel a signing because I was so battered I was afraid to go out in public. Roger beat me just so I couldn’t go, and for no other reason than because he knew it was important to me. Yes, I’m battered, but this time I’m not letting anything or anyone hold me back. If you want to come, then you’re welcome to, but you’re not stopping me from going.”
“Dammit, moye sokrovishche.” She had to go and allude to him trying keep her home was putting him in the same category as her bastard husband. When she tried to pick up a box of books, he snatched it from her. Damn woman. Didn’t she know lifting anything heavy wasn’t going to do a damn thing to make her back heal faster?
“I am perfectly capable of picking up some books.”
He shot her a baleful glare. “Not as long as I’m here. Your back needs to heal.”
“Then, by all means, Mr. Bossy Pants, please load all the heavy boxes in the Jeep by yourself.”
He looked around at all the boxes. “Mason!”
Sara burst out laughing, and he let the sound soak into his skin. He loved to hear her laugh. She’d been doing more of it since that night on the couch. It gave him hope she was coming around to his way of thinking. He knew he still had a long fight ahead of him. There was no doubt about that, but he’d take any glimmers of hope he could get.
“What?” Mason poked his head in the door. He had on pink glitter eyeshadow.
“What the fuck?”
“I was playing dress-up with my girl. What the fuck you want?”
Viktor shook his head ruefully. Delia had his brother wrapped around her little finger. Not that he could say much. She’d convinced him to wear a crown and let her paint his nails last night. There was still a trace of the purple junk around his nailbeds.
“I need help packing this shit to the Jeep.”
Mason eyeballed the boxes. “You’re a big, strong man. I got faith in ya, bro.”
“Fucker, get your ass in here and help me.”
Mason sighed heavily. “You want to tell Princess Peach in there why you’re stealing her model?”
Viktor narrowed his eyes. “I swear to God, Mase…”
“Fine, fine,” Mason grouched. “Princess, I got to help Viktor load the Jeep.”
“’Kay!” Her voice carried from the living room.
�
��Stop being grumpy because you didn’t win the argument,” Sara told him. “I agreed to overnight all this to the hotel and fly down instead of driving. Count yourself lucky I let you win that one.”
“You let me win?” Viktor’s eyes turned to slits. “Sass everywhere. Sass from Mase, sass from you. I’m surrounded by sass.”
“What can I say? I’m a sassy boy.” Mason posed and blew his brother a kiss.
“Out!” Viktor pointed to the door. “Or I swear I will not be responsible for what happens, and you can explain to Mama why you’re black and blue.”
“You’d have to catch me first.” Mason picked up a box and shook his ass at his brother before waltzing out of the room.
Viktor’s face cracked as soon as he was gone. He bent over, and his shoulders shook from laughter. That boy. God help the woman he married.
“Your brother is quite the character.”
Viktor wiped tears from his eyes. He needed that laugh. “We love him despite himself. Now, back to you. That drive was a twenty-hour trip. No way in hell was your back handling that.”
She rolled her eyes, and he growled yet again. Why didn’t she take her health more seriously? Because her bastard ex taught her she wasn’t important. He reminded himself he was going to have to reteach her this small nugget of self-preservation.
“Don’t fucking pick up one box! Pack shit or something.” He wagged a finger at her before picking up two of the heavy book boxes. Christ, how much did this weigh? He shifted the boxes for a better grip and towed them out to the Jeep. Mason was leaning against it, checking his phone.
Viktor grunted as he slid the boxes into the back. “Mase…”
“Don’t ‘Mase’ me. I was checking my final grades.”
“You good?”
“Fuck, yeah. Made the dean’s list. It’ll look good for when they transfer over to NYU next semester.”
Mason had decided to transfer for his junior year to be near the rest of his family. It was going to be damn good to have all six of them in one city again.
