Page 146 of Emerald Malice

“We were driving home and it was late. I was supposed to be asleep, but I had to pee, and Dad stopped at a gas station.”

I can still see the little station, silhouetted against the dark sky. Half of the lights in the parking lot didn’t work. The ones that did were flickering. It looked like a scene from a horror movie.

It turned into one.

“My mom took me inside to the bathroom and then to get snacks while Dad filled the tank. Then, we switched. He went inside, and I climbed into the car.”

Is this the first time I’ve told this story out loud? It might be. I’m surprised by how many details I can remember. I can hear the lights, the neon signs buzzing. The rumble of the refrigerators. The crackle of empty chip bags blowing in the wind like tumbleweeds.

Andrey’s fingers slip through mine, and I cling to him, forcing myself to stay here in this moment.

“I’d just gotten back into the car when this… this man approached us. Mom was trying to talk to him, and then he grabbed her.” I blow out a harsh breath, trying to ease the pressure in my chest. “I could hear her screaming, ‘Lock the doors, lock the doors!’”

Tears pour down my cheeks now, but I will myself to keep going. Andrey here, warm and present next to me, gives me enough strength to power through the knot in my throat.

“Dad ran towards us yelling. I remember thinking he was going to fix everything. Then I saw the gun.”

I shudder so violently that Andrey tightens his grip on me.

“The first shot was so loud that I covered my ears with my hands. I wish I’d closed my eyes, instead. Then I wouldn’t have seen my father?—”

I break off, choking on my own words.

“I’m sorry, lastochka,” Andrey whispers in my ear. “No child should have to watch their parents die.”

My jaw trembles. But now that I’ve started the story, I need to finish it.

“Dad dropped and my mom screamed. It was the worst sound I’ve ever heard in my life. She tried to run to him, but the man shot her, too.” I look at Andrey hopelessly. “We were only an hour outside of New York. We were so close to home… but I needed to use the bathroom…”

“You are not to blame,” he whispers in my ear. “Just like Misha isn’t to blame for what happened with Viktor.”

I close my eyes and see them again. My mother and her dimpled smile. My father with his untrimmed beard and his round glasses.

Andrey cradles me in his arms, gazing down at my face while he strokes my cheek. “You’re braver than you know, Natalia.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

I expect him to tell me that he knows me better than I know myself. And maybe that’s true. Maybe he does.

But he doesn’t say that. But instead, he drops a kiss on my forehead and murmurs, “Then I’ll be brave enough for the both of us.”

52

ANDREY

It’s been a long time since I woke up next to a woman. And as I do, I wait for the guilt to set in. For the reservations to launch me out of the bed and as far from her presence as I can manage.

But neither happens.

Strange.

It gets slightly less strange when I look down at her face. Then it makes sense. It’s easy to be captivated by how peaceful she looks, curled up on my side, her eyes fluttering in a dream, her lips parted. She’s a painting come to life. A living, breathing masterpiece that’s somehow landed—quite literally—in my lap.

Only a fool would turn away something this precious.

Natalia stirs slowly, blinking into consciousness as she rolls onto her back, a curtain of dark hair falling against her face. I push it aside and she looks at me.

“Andrey,” she breathes. “You stayed.”

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