by Lizzy Ford
I feel myself smile. I like it here. I can definitely see a family spending snowed in days in the area four times the size of my apartment sandwiched between the two wings of the mansion.
“You like it.” Petr’s gaze is on me.
“Yeah.”
He leads me to the hearth. The fire counters the chill emanating from the bank of windows facing the snowy lawns behind the mansion.
“You just need a blanket and cup of tea, and it’s perfect,” I murmur, sitting on the couch.
Releasing my hand, he sits close enough for our thighs to touch and drapes an arm over the backside of the couch behind me. Propping his feet up on a fat ottoman, he relaxes.
I’m tense, not sure what to expect from him or what he might expect from me. The crackling fire is magical, soothing my fear and warming my skin while Petr’s nearness warms me from the inside.
Petr’s attention is on the fire, and he’s still, as if he understands I’m fighting an internal battle. He’s giving me space to do so, and I sense he won’t be offended if I get up and sit on the chair instead of beside him.
I probably should. But attraction to his muscular frame, mixed with the knowledge he genuinely likes me, causes me to experience the ache again, the yearning to be normal or at least, to believe this temporary moment might be less fleeting than my usual relationships with people.
A few minutes of peace can’t hurt. I can do this.
Heart pounding, I take a deep breath and lean back beside him, shifting to put my feet up on the ottoman with his. Our bodies are in contact, and he wraps his arm around my shoulders briefly to position me against him better. His arm then returns to the back of the couch.
We sit in silence, which I desperately need right now. I’m fighting the impulse to flee. Not that I want to. I’m comfortable around Petr, but this scares me more than if I weren’t. Comfortable means letting down my guard, and that terrifies me.
He’s warm, his sweater soft. His woodsy cologne combines with the scent of the fireplace to remind me of being around a bonfire in the forest. My panic gradually wears off, in part because I’m so full, the dancing fire is making me drowsy. Sliding down a little farther to rest my head against the back of the couch, I sigh.
“You okay?” he asks when I settle.
I’m not sure how he knows about my struggle or whether I should be embarrassed it’s noticeable or grateful for his patience. “I think so. Are you?”
“Yeah. Rough day yesterday.”
I twist my head over my shoulder to gaze at him and rest my cheek against the couch. My turmoil is one thing, but I can’t bear the thought of him being likewise troubled. “Why?” I ask before censoring myself and then rush on. “Sorry. None of my business.”
“No worries.” He mirrors my position. Our faces are close enough for me to see the fine lines around his eyes when he smiles. “This time of year is rough. It’s the second Christmas without my brother. In twenty-nine years, we had never been out of contact longer than a month or two.” The shadow is back in his gaze, a sorrow so profound, my throat tightens in empathy.
“I can’t imagine losing Todd,” I whisper. “Everything I do is to protect him.”
“You have to remember to live for you, too.”
“It doesn’t feel possible.”
“Believe me – I know. But it is.”
“I wouldn’t know how.” I give an uncomfortable laugh and look away.
“You started this morning,” he points out.
“Maybe.” I won’t tell him I’m not sure what I’m doing here. “How can you help so many people when I know you’re hurting?”
“Misery loves company.”
I laugh. “No, really. My first reaction is to run.”
He shrugs. “I always run towards the battle. I try to do things that would make Mikael proud. He gave his life for mine, and I will honor his sacrifice by being the best person I can be and helping improve the lives of those around me.”
He makes it sound so simple, and I sense for him, it is. Helping others, running towards the burning building, never retreating from a challenge … these are instincts I don’t have. My focus has been self-preservation and the safety of my brother.
“I wish I could be more like you,” I murmur.
“You’re beautiful the way you are, Claudia. A little damaged, a whole lot scared, but beautiful.”
How he manages to hold up a mirror to my flaws, and I still have the need to stay right here, close to him …
It begins to sink in that Petr is like no one I’ve ever met before, that I might already be in deeper than I thought possible.
“Okay, good,” he says softly. “I didn’t scare you off this time.”
“You did,” I assure him.
We gaze at each other in the quiet. His direct look stirs up more than I want it to, a combination of admiration and physical attraction. I’m afraid of what’s already between us and more so of what it could quickly become, if I don’t prevent it.
“Petr … I can’t.” The words are nearly painful to say.
“Yes, you can. Every once in a while, you just have to take a chance and fall.”
“It’s not the fall I’m afraid of. It’s the landing.”
“Easy. I’ll catch you.”
I duck my head and lick my lips, torn between wanting to be in his arms and packing up my apartment to leave town. I can’t explain why I shouldn’t be here … can’t summon a rejection when I’ve never been so drawn to, or comfortable with, someone in my life. I’m paralyzed, trapped between the past I’m trying to escape and the future I doubt exists.
“Stop thinking, Claudia. Sometimes what you feel is the real truth.”
It feels like my world is crumbling.
I know it’s not. I know this is one tiny barrier between me and a man who is everything I’ve never known in the world – and everything I can imagine wanting. Is this part of my punishment? Meeting Petr and knowing I can’t ever have anything with him?
Lost in my thoughts, I’m aware of little more than the heat of his solid frame and the crackle of the fire.
He tilts my chin up. Before I can register his blue eyes, his soft lips are pressed to mine.
If anything has ever surprised me, it’s the fact I not only don’t freak out, but I have no desire to, either. I can’t. This feels …
Natural. Familiar. So good, I feel I’ve never known real pleasure before the simple kiss.
His palm slides to cup the back of my neck, and I rest mine on his stubble-roughened cheek. His full lips are warm, the pressure gentle. He’s testing my response, as if he’s aware I’ve been ready to escape since I arrived. His tongue slides between my lips twice before I open and give him access to my mouth.
His taste – coffee, gingerbread and his own distinct flavor – melts more of my resolve. We take it slowly, savoring one another, exploring each other with the same hesitant back and forth that have marked our relationship up ‘til now. My blood, already heated by the contact of our bodies, is soon racing with renewed urgency and desire.
He stops and withdraws, resting his cheek on the back of the couch once more. Relaxing my neck, I do the same. My hand drops to his thigh, while his shifts to my shoulder.
We watch each other. I almost imagine him looking for signs of an implosion while I regain what thinking is able to pierce the intoxicated haze of sensation holding me immobilized.
Despite the alarm bells going off in my head and the confusion starting to form, I don’t feel like running. I don’t want to be anywhere but here, however wrong that may be.
“See? Just fall,” he whispers in a deeper timbre. His thumb sweeps across my lips before he lowers his hand to take mine.
“You won’t always be there to catch me, Petr.”
He smiles. “I really don’t think you need catching, Claudia. I think you’re strong enough to land on your feet. I also think that won’t stop me from being there to steady you, if you need it.”
O
ur five-minute interactions at the diner have been breadcrumbs leading me deeper into the forest, closer to this moment. I never realized it until now. I don’t know when this … when he … ceased to become a choice and instead, became something I craved.
“Petr? Do you want to play a game?” Anton’s voice comes from the same hallway we walked through earlier.
Petr turns his head over his other shoulder to respond. “Only if you promise not to cheat.”
“It is not cheating if you win.”
“You hear that?” Petr asks me quietly. “Consider yourself warned.” His smile is wide, and the shadows are gone from his eyes.
His happiness is like Todd’s; I love it, but it hurts me, too. We stand and walk hand in hand to the coffee table on the other side of the living area being turned into a game space. Todd looks at Petr then me, hiding a smile.
We sit on the couch while Anton sifts through the board games.
“Claudia, what did you go to school for?” he asks with a glance at me.
“Graphic design.”
Anton nods, as if expecting the answer. “I have a project for you.”
“Well … I left before I graduated,” I say, not wanting to tiptoe any closer to why I don’t have my degree. I was twenty when I went on the run and have been performing minimum wage jobs since then. They’re easy to get, and waitressing gives me the chance to earn a little more than I might otherwise. “I might be out of practice.”
“You will remember.”
I glance at Petr, who’s smiling. “In his mind, you’ve confirmed and are already halfway done with it. It’s how he does things. You’ll get used to it.”
The last phrase echoes in my mind. Todd meets my gaze from his spot in an armchair that’s been dragged closer to the coffee table. A flicker of hope is in his face, one that troubles me.
Petr squeezes my hand once more. I don’t know how he senses it when I’m worried, but he does. Our sides are pressed together again, his presence calming the anxious flutter in my stomach.
“I will inform you now that you shall lose,” Anton says gravely and places a game on the table. “Prepare yourselves.”
His delivery never fails to draw a smile from me. I really do adore Petr’s father.
We spend the day in the family area playing games. The time passes so quickly, I’m surprised when it’s dark and we’re invited down for dinner. Petr rarely leaves my side and holds my hand the entire time we’re seated with each other. He doesn’t kiss me again, for which I’m relieved. My internal turmoil is nowhere near done; if anything, the battle is heating up, the happier Todd becomes.
Todd, Maya and I are driven home by Anton’s driver after dinner.
For the first time in too long for me to recall, I go to bed feeling … good. I can’t get over Petr’s kiss or how natural it was being with him. I’m unable to quell the desire scattering my thoughts or the image in my head of Petr and me seated on the couch again, enjoying each other’s company.
The sensations are so foreign, I don’t sleep for half the night.
But when I do, it’s not Petr’s kisses I see in my dreams.
It’s replaying memories of the last time The Monster caught us and how he almost killed Todd.
I awake near tears, my pain so raw, it’s hard for me to stand until I calm myself.
I don’t know how to stay in town and not be with Petr. I don’t know how to leave town when being with Petr would be so natural, so easy.
I’m in too deep already, and I don’t know what to do.
Chapter Thirteen: Petr
I can’t remember the last time I was nervous about anything.
Monday morning, I arrive to the diner five minutes earlier than usual. My thoughts are going wild with anticipation. I experienced the tremble in Claudia’s hands yesterday and saw the way she looked at me when she left. I don’t think she was aware of either.
Her lingering gaze held the same sentiment I’ve given Brianna on more than one occasional: regret stemming from the wish we could be while knowing it’s not possible.
Maybe I moved too quickly in kissing her, but I couldn’t help it. Claudia is beautiful, and in that moment, the vulnerability in her features hit me as hard as an explosion rocking my HUMVEE when I was overseas. I needed to help her lift the fear for a moment, to give her a sense of relief. To an extent, I think I did that. We had a great time yesterday, and her smiles and laughter were as genuine as Todd’s.
But I’m pretty sure the kiss will end up being a setback.
It’s a shame. I care about her. A lot. I guess this saves me from being embarrassed when she reacts to my leg the way Brianna did.
Claudia arrives on schedule and meets my gaze with a smile. I catch her troubled expression when she turns away, and my chest tightens. When she approaches the table with my usual, I wait for her to say something about never wanting to see me again.
“Thank you for yesterday,” she starts.
“Not a problem. I’m glad you all had fun.”
“We did.”
I plunge forward, knowing there’s one way to determine where we stand. “You, uh, want to go to dinner at some point this week?”
She hesitates. I see the answer in her face. “Petr …” She clears her throat, distraught. The tremor in her tone disturbs me at a primal level. “I have to fix something before I can move forward with my life. I want you to ask me again tomorrow.”
“I will,” I respond. “I’ll ask you every day until you say yes.”
She appears doubtful as she studies me. “I hope so.”
“You okay with me stealing Todd away still?” I take her hand, unable to bear the distance between us or the pain in her gaze.
“As long as it’s not a problem. I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Never.”
“Thank you.” She looks at our clasped hands and squeezes mine briefly before pulling away. Without another word, Claudia leaves.
I barely know her, and I’ve only kissed her once. Why is this whole situation hurting so much?
She comes back once but doesn’t speak, and I leave, dissatisfied, frustrated and wishing I knew how to fix a situation I can’t control. I’ll keep my word about asking her. I hope, sometime soon, I discover the real issue – and it’s not my leg.
My mood remains dampened for the rest of the day. The old me would tell her how I feel, but I’m not that person anymore. If anything, I think it might make things worse between us when she’s already struggling.
I put on a friendly face for my school visit. The kids do cheer me up. Today is a class full of seven year olds. Their genuine fascination with my leg soothes the side of me that can’t let go of the idea Claudia might be disgusted by it the way Brianna is.
Right at four, I drop by the diner and pick up Todd, who is waiting with all kinds of jitters for his first night of martial arts. He’s clutching his iPhone in one hand and shrugs off his backpack as he climbs into the truck.
“You don’t want to say hi to Claudia?” he asks.
“Don’t want to be late the first night,” I reply.
He appears apprehensive. “Is it a big class? I’ve never done karate before.”
“Nah. Small class. I’ll pair up with you the first half a dozen times to teach you the basics.”
“Wow.” He’s looking at me like I’m a rock star.
I laugh, always amused by the unabashed way kids and teens react to me. The community center isn’t far, but it’s snowy and cold out. I pull into the parking lot.
“Yesterday was pretty awesome,” he adds. “Is there … can we come over again?”
I hesitate. There’s no way I’d dime out his sister, but I’m not certain what to tell him, either. “We’ll have to see,” I manage finally. “It’s ultimately up to your sister.”
“Oh.” He seems to know what that means. “Maybe I can convince her.”
Smiling, I climb out of the truck and lead him into the center. He’s gripping his backpack h
ard, and his eyes dart around to the blue mats lining the gym on the opposite side of the entrance. There are three students and an instructor in their uniforms already. Todd doesn’t look certain, but I motion him forward.
“It took two weeks for her to agree. Don’t back out now,” I remind him with a laugh.
Determination crosses his features, and he draws abreast of me.
An hour later, we wrap up. Todd is a natural with great coordination. Teaching him the basics is easy so far, and his intensity is either a sign of eagerness or another flag that he’s learning for a reason other than a hobby. He’s sweaty and cheerful by the time he pulls on his jacket.
His eyes go to my exposed legs. I’m in shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt tonight. “Does it hurt in the cold?” he asks of my prosthetic.
“No. I have a special sleeve to keep it from getting too wet though,” I reply and ruffle his hair. “Was it everything you expected?”
“You are amazing,” he says, echoing a word I’ve heard his sister use on several occasions.
“Practice and attention to detail,” I reply. Too hot to pull on my sweats, I zip up a jacket and pick up my gym bag. We head out towards the truck.
“How long until I’m as good as you?”
“A few years.”
“Oh.” He grows thoughtful.
I glance at him as we get into the truck. “It really depends on how hard you push yourself,” I add.
“Hmmm. I was hoping a month or two.”
“It’ll take little longer than that. There’s no rush. The snow will soon be too deep to be outside.”
He nods.
“I have a schedule for you,” I add and pull out a piece of paper from my bag. Handing it him, I then put the truck in gear and begin driving.
