Page 31 of Stolen Seconds

Every time I’d seen him, he was in formal wear, even if it was in casual settings.

He stared at me, but his eyes appeared drawn as if he weren’t focusing.

“Nicolai. . . ”

“Hm?” It was a reactive response, and I realized he wasn’t with me. His mind had drifted to something that left him jarred.

I hesitantly put my hand on his shoulder. “Nicolai,” I whispered.

Moving out of his line of sight, he continued to stare straight ahead, void of his surroundings.

His eyes had gone completely blank, a black abyss into nothingness.

My heart battered against my chest, unsure of how to approach him when I was a mere stranger.

But I couldn’t leave him in this state.

“Nico. . . ” I soothed, bringing my fingers to his cheek, hoping to drag him back from wherever he wandered off to. “It’s alright.”

His face was cold, and I hoped the warmth of my fingers broke through the wall that he’d put up.

After a long moment, he blinked, and I continued my movements until he did it again, the brown in his eyes appearing brighter.

“Nicolai?”

He finally came to, pushing away from my touch as if it seared him. “Don’ttouchme,” he snapped.

I dropped the hand I’d caressed him with, unsure of how to respond to his sudden reaction.

He swallowed almost in difficulty before shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what that was.”

A lie.

“Was it something I said?”

His eyes darted between mine and whatever he saw in my expression had him nodding subtly and, in this moment, he looked so defeated, my heart squeezed in anguish.

I wanted to know what haunted him. I wanted him toknow I was his sister, and I would slaughter his demons if he so much as asked me to.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” I smiled at him reassuringly before stepping away.

He opened his mouth and then shut it, raking a hand through his hair.

I waited until he spoke. “I haven’t had an episode like that in a very long time. I. . . I,” he paused, taking me aback. It was the first time he’d been lost for words.

“We don’t. . . ” I shook my head to indicate that he didn’t need to justify his actions.

“I dress this way because there was a time when I didn’t have clothes on my back.” He sighed, his face a mixture of sadness and anger. “I promised myself I’d never be like that again.”

The pounding of my heart reached my ears, quieting everything aside from my chaotic thoughts. This was worse than I could ever imagine. Had Nicolai been poor? Was it because of our father? What happened to his mother?

“Is that when Roman saved you?”

“Yes. I owe him my life.”

“No, you don’t.” Roman’s voice came from our far right and we both turned to see him walking toward us. “Nico, it’s not polite to burden guests with your personal life.” His words were directed at my brother, but his eyes were set on me.

It was evident on his hardened face that he was sensitive—as one could be when it came to a man like him—about Nicolai.

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