by Megan Hart
“You avoid it however you want. I’m going downstairs,” Ilya said.
Niko rubbed again at his head. He could still taste Allie. Still hear the soft, breathy moans she made when he touched her. Looking at his brother, he waited to feel some kind of guilt about what had happened, but if it was going to hit him, it was taking its sweet time. That was the thing about water under a bridge. It could get caught up in a bunch of debris, or it could sweep everything away, leaving nothing behind; it all depended on the ferocity of the storm.
Without answering, Niko followed Ilya down the front stairs, back into the formal living room, where the small group of friends who’d come to honor Babulya had thinned to one or two. Theresa was still there, along with another familiar face he hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Barry?”
Theresa’s father turned from his conversation with Galina. “Niko. Hey. Ilya. Hi, good to see you. Wish it was under better circumstances.”
They shook hands briefly. Niko gave his mother a look, trying to gauge how she felt about the sight of her ex-husband, but she appeared serenely unmoved. Theresa, on the other hand, looked as though she’d eaten something that wasn’t sitting very well.
“It was nice of you to come, Barry.” Galina smiled. “You know, my mother never liked you.”
Barry didn’t seem put off by this, but then he’d been married to Niko’s mother, and it would hardly be a surprise if he knew exactly the sort of woman she was. “I didn’t come here for your mother.”
That little exchange seemed like the cue for everyone else to start leaving. Ilya took on the role of handshaker and gratitude giver, accepting hugs and putting on his most sincere face to listen to everyone’s condolences. Niko and Theresa exchanged a look. She shrugged. Niko stood by his mother. At least she wasn’t crying.
Later, when the house had cleared out and Theresa had started to clean up while Galina and Barry were still talking in muttered whispers in the corner, Niko found his brother standing on the back step. Ilya tipped his head back to look up at the cloudless night sky littered with stars. They stood in silence together for a few minutes.
“You should put on a coat or come inside,” Niko said finally. “It’s cold out here.”
Ilya slanted him a look. “Thanks, mother hen.”
“Okay, then, forget it. Freeze your ass off. See if I care.” Niko shrugged and leaned against the door frame, drawing in a few frosty breaths. He’d endured worse weather than this, of course. A hundred times. But there was nothing quite like how it felt to be back home on this back porch, looking out across the yard to the straggly patch of trees beyond.
He’d kissed Allie for the first time in that backyard, right over there. Under a sky something like this. He should have kissed her a hundred times back then. If he had, they wouldn’t be groping each other in the attic, praying nobody caught them.
“Never expected to see Barry,” Ilya said after another minute had ticked by.
“Nope.”
Behind Niko, the door opened. Theresa poked her head out, saw them, then came out the rest of the way. She let the door hang open for a moment so they could hear Galina’s rising voice.
“Hey,” Theresa said with a grimace. “Brrr, it’s cold out here. Finally.”
Before she pulled the door closed, another shout pierced the night air.
“Man, she’s really letting him have it,” Ilya said with a glance at Theresa, who shrugged.
“He shouldn’t be here,” she said.
Behind her, Niko nudged the door open again, cocking his head to listen as his mother’s tirade grew louder. The tone of it changed, something more desperate in her voice, and he was moving before he thought of it. Ilya behind him. Theresa, too.
“Don’t you blame me for that!” came Galina’s shout from the other room.
Niko moved forward, thinking to intervene, but Theresa snagged his sleeve. She shook her head. He gave her a look.
“He deserves to get his ass handed to him,” Theresa said. “Your mom can handle herself.”
“Don’t you blame me for your bad choices!” Galina continued, getting louder. She was heading for the kitchen, and there was nothing they could do but stand there and pretend they hadn’t been eavesdropping. Not that Galina seemed to care as she flew into the kitchen with Barry on her heels. She whirled, facing him as he tried to grab her wrist. “Don’t you dare touch me. You come here, to this house and try to put your hands on me? My mother died!”
“That’s why I’m here!” Barry looked like he meant to reach for her again, but at the menacing way both Ilya and Nikolai stepped forward, he stopped. Barry looked uncomfortable, avoiding their eyes. “I came out of respect, Galina. And because you asked me to.”
The brothers shared a glance. Galina had put herself in this situation. Not a shocker. Ilya rolled his eyes. Theresa saw the look and sighed, rubbing at her arms against the chill coming in from the outside.
“Barry, you’d better go,” Niko said.
Barry, whose cheeks had gone high with a hectic crimson flush, kept his eyes on Galina. “We aren’t done.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re done.” Ilya stepped up to grab at Barry’s sleeve, but the older man moved easily aside.
Barry held up his hands. “Fine. I get it. You still hate me. But you’re the one who invited me here, Galina. You don’t get to play the martyr now.”
“I’m uninviting you,” she said coldly, her gaze bright and piercing. Nobody crossed Galina when she looked like that. Nobody who was smart, anyway.
Niko had never thought Barry was particularly smart, but he took two steps back.
“Fine. I’m going.” Barry looked at Theresa, who very carefully did not return the gaze. He held out a hand to Niko, who took it automatically to shake, then Ilya, who didn’t. “Sorry about the ruckus.”
“Just go,” Ilya said.
Niko started toward the front door. “I’ll walk you out.”
“We all will,” Ilya said with a subtle clench of his fists.
If there was going to be any trouble with Barry, Niko and Ilya were going to take care of it. Galina might be an instigator, a pain in the ass, but she was their mother. At the front door, Barry grabbed his coat from the closet and put it on. He turned to face them, making a move as though he meant to hug his daughter. She casually and with grace stepped away, not making a big deal out of her avoidance—making it seem like a coincidence, even—but Ilya must’ve also noticed, because he moved between her and her father.
“Good night, Barry,” Ilya said. Barry left without another word. Ilya shut the door behind him, then turned to Theresa. “What the hell?”
She shrugged, crossing her arms. “I have no idea. He said she invited him.”
“She probably did,” Niko said.
Theresa shook her head. “Whatever. He’s gone. I should go, too. It could be awkward now.”
“You’re welcome to stay,” Ilya put in, surprising Niko, who wouldn’t have thought his brother gave half a damn what Theresa or anyone else did tonight. “It’s late.”
She hesitated, her glance going back and forth between them. “I’ll help clean up. If your mom seems weird about it, I’ll go. Okay?”
Galina had moved from the dining room into the living room, where she had a bottle of beer in one hand and was flipping through a photo album with the other. She looked up as they came in, her eyes bright, cheeks flushed.
“Look, Theresa, here are the pictures from the day I married your father.” Galina patted the sofa beside her, and Theresa, with a look at Ilya, sat next to her. Galina took a pull on the bottle. Like Ilya, she was more charming when she was drinking, and Niko felt a small rush of relief that at least she was no longer shrieking. “It was nice of him to come, wasn’t it? He doesn’t look very good, though. He hasn’t aged very well.”
“Mom,” Ilya said. “What the hell?”
“He doesn’t take good care of himself,” Theresa agreed, not sounding annoyed. “I’m surprised y
ou invited him, though.”
“When someone dies, you do what’s right.” Galina flipped another page, leaning forward to look at the pictures. “You hated that dress I bought you. Remember?”
Theresa laughed, low. “Yes. I remember.”
“Why did you invite him?” Niko asked quietly.
His mother shrugged, not looking up. “I thought it was the right thing to do at the time. I guess I’m not allowed to make mistakes?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Niko said, but stopped himself from apologizing. He tried to catch his brother’s eye, but Ilya wasn’t looking at him. He’d gone to stand behind the sofa to look over their shoulders. With a sigh, so did Niko. It was clear she wanted them to see the pictures, and with his mother, there was hardly ever a point in resisting. She would make her point or get her way.
“So handsome. My sons.” Galina tapped the photo of the two of them each wearing suits. The wedding had been in the early summer. Those suits had been ill fitting and hot. Niko couldn’t even remember ever seeing those pictures. With a snap, Galina shut the album and tossed it onto the coffee table. “I have something I need to talk to you both about.”
Theresa coughed. “Should I go? Is it private?”
“It’s a family matter,” Galina answered, “but I suppose you can stay.”
She looked around at all of them, fixing each with a few seconds’ worth of a steady, unblinking gaze before she looked down at her hands folded in her lap. Niko and his brother exchanged looks again. Waiting for the drama, because with their mother, there was always drama.
Galina looked up. “I’ve spent too much time away from my family. Losing my mother showed me how important it is that I be close to my boys. You never know how much time you have left, and I want to spend it with you.”
Niko coughed and tried to catch Ilya’s eye again, but his brother had turned away. “Mom—”
“What exactly do you mean,” Ilya broke in without facing them. “More time? Like a long visit, or what?”
“Oh, no,” Galina smiled. “I’m not going back to South Carolina. I’m staying here.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“What do you mean, she’s not going home?” Alicia put aside the pile of envelopes and mail that had been piling up over the past couple of weeks and gave Nikolai her full attention. “She’s planning to, what, move right back into the house like she’d never been gone?”
Nikolai nodded, leaning in her office doorway as though it would kill him to come all the way inside. Like she might jump over the desk and wrestle him to the ground to seduce him. Alicia’s mouth twisted, sour, and she smoothed it at once, not wanting him to see her giving him one bare second’s worth of her emotions. She hadn’t heard one damned word from him in just over a week—not a text or a phone call or a random visit with a casserole as an excuse. Let him stand in her office doorway forever. There was no way she was ever going to invite him in.
“Yeah. A bunch of her stuff was delivered yesterday.”
Alicia swiveled in her desk chair and frowned. That was serious. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s she going to live on? Retirement? Does she even have any?” Alicia’s parents had both taken early retirements so they could leave the cold winters of Pennsylvania for the snowbird climate of Arizona, but they’d both had full-time, consistent work histories and enough savings to allow it.
“Maybe she’ll get another job? I don’t know.” Nikolai shrugged. “Who ever really knows with her?”
Alicia sighed. “Why didn’t your brother tell me any of this? I just talked to him yesterday.”
When she’d called to ask him whether he was going to bother coming in to work at all, Ilya had told her only that he was still taking care of things at home, leaving her to deal with everything at the shop. He’d been quiet, but not snappish or irritable. They hadn’t fought. She’d been too nice, probably, but the effort of arguing with him about responsibility and picking up his share of the load had been too much for her. She could spend a lifetime juggling her resentments toward Ilya.
“Who ever really knows with him?” Nikolai said with a grin she figured he meant to be conspiratorial.
Alicia didn’t return it. “Don’t do that.”
“What?” He frowned and stood up straight, even going so far as to take a single step over the threshold so he actually stood inside her office instead of just beyond it.
“Don’t try to get me to talk shit about him,” she said.
Nikolai let out a short bark of a laugh. “I wasn’t trying to get you to talk shit about him . . . I just meant . . . wow, Allie. Wow.”
The abbreviation of her name, as it always did, scraped at her. A snagging thorn. She was done ignoring it, especially for him.
“Alicia,” she said tightly. Everything was coiling inside her, twisting and twisting.
“Huh?”
“I don’t like to be called Allie. My name’s Alicia.”
His brow furrowed. “We always called you Allie.”
“I never liked it,” she told him in a clipped, biting tone.
“Ilya calls you Allie,” Nikolai said, like a challenge, his voice dipping low. His gaze flared.
Alicia met his eyes without looking away, both of them pressing hard the way they’d always done, neither willing to give an inch. “Yes. He does.”
“Did you ever tell him not to call you Allie?”
“All the time,” she said. “But he still does it.”
She did not want this heat between them. She didn’t want to remember his hands on her, his mouth, the huff of his breath in her ear. She didn’t want to think about how easy it had been, every shift and move and touch, everything effortless and perfect, at least physically. Everything else between them still seemed as difficult as it had always been.
“I’m sorry. Alicia.” Nikolai hadn’t taken another step toward her, but the distance between them that had seemed so vast a few minutes ago had become far too close.
Her heart throbbed so hard it hurt, a flare of pain in her chest that faded when she remembered to take a breath. He’d said the right words to defuse this impending argument but had done nothing to relieve the tension.
“Thank you,” she bit out.
She hadn’t invited him in; he’d entered anyway. Another creeping flush of heat touched her throat and cheeks as she remembered the way she’d seduced him in the attic bedroom. She’d made such a fool of herself, for what? Asking for what she wanted? Why should she ever feel embarrassed about that?
Yet she did, and she couldn’t bear to do it again. The thought of it sent a wash of ice all over her that cut through the heat and made her teeth want to chatter. She settled for crossing her arms over her stomach and clenching her jaw.
“So, anyway, I just stopped by to tell you about Galina,” he said when she didn’t speak.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“I thought you’d like to know.”
“Okay,” she repeated with as little inflection as possible, giving him nothing.
Nothing.
Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “Thought you might like to know that I’m not heading out for a while, either. The house needs a lot of work, and my mother is asking me to do it.”
“And you’re the one who fixes things. Right?” she said in the same flat tone.
“Doesn’t someone have to?”
“Don’t look at me because things fell apart,” Alicia said coolly, deliberately ignoring the double meaning of his comment.
“Hey, you. Fancy meeting you here.” The feminine voice from behind him made Nikolai turn, revealing Theresa standing in the doorway. “Hey, Allie.”
“She likes to be called Alicia,” he said.
Alicia kept her mouth in a thin line, refusing to smile or rise to his taunt. “Hey, Theresa. What’s up?”
“Everything okay at home?” Nikolai asked his former stepsister.
Theresa gave him a small smile and a shrug. “Your brother w
as still sleeping when I left, and Galina was on the computer looking up laminate flooring.”
Nikolai sighed. “Great.”
“I came to see if you wanted to grab some lunch, Alicia.” Theresa hitched her shoulder bag a little higher and waited until he’d moved out of the way so she could come into Alicia’s office. She glanced at Nikolai.
“Sure,” Alicia said. “I have nothing better going on.”
Nikolai made a noise low in his throat, not quite a word, and said aloud, “I’m out of here. Theresa, are you coming back to the house later?”
“I wasn’t going to,” she said with a shake of her head and a wry grin. “But your mother insisted. She said as long as I had business in town, I should stay at the house. Of course, she also made a big point of telling me that she plans to turn the room I’m using into a library, something about custom-made shelves. So I’m not sure she really wants to me to hang around.”
Nikolai groaned and rubbed at his eyes. “Great, custom shelves. Guess who gets to build those. I’m pretty sure fixing that shower is the first priority, though. Well, I guess I’d better call and find out what else she needs me to pick up from the hardware store. All . . . icia, can I bring you back anything? New hammer? Some nails? Doggy door?”
“I don’t have a dog.”
Nikolai snapped his fingers. “Right. Want me to grab you one while I’m out? How about a nice little shitzapoo, or something like that? A poodoodle? A cockashitz!”
“Get out of here,” she said, breaking, wishing she could maintain her anger with him the way she wanted to, but helpless not to laugh. She stifled it behind her hand, but the flash of Nikolai’s grin and a totally cocky wink told her he’d heard the giggle in her voice.
He saluted them both. “Good day, ladies.”
He added an ominous emphasis to the word, and with a flourish, exited the room. Theresa watched him go, then threw Alicia a curious look. She pretended not to notice.
“I have to finish up a couple things, and then we can go.” Alicia said with a wave toward the chair across from her desk. She waited for the sound of the bell at the front door to jingle, announcing Nikolai’s exit. “What a crazy couple of weeks.”
