Page 71 of Ruthless Serenade

My eyes dart between the two of them as my mind frantically scrambles for answers. "You two know each other?"

Maron remains quiet, but Sharon nods. "We met at Story Night, Mommy."

"You were the best storyteller in the whole school," Maron chimes in, winking at my daughter.

I gape at the two of them, trying to put two and two together, but my head’s a mess. A clusterfuck of confusion, one might say. It stumbles over questions, desperately grasping for any way to make sense of the impossible scene unfolding before me.

"How are we feeling, little one?" A nurse enters with her trolley, greeting Sharon with a friendly grin. "I’m sorry, but I’ll need you both to wait outside," she adds, turning to Maron and me. "It’s time for Sharon’s medication." She glances at Sharon again, with a practiced smile. "Besides, I bet our little patient could use some more sleep, right?"

Sharon remains mute.

"Of course," I quickly tell her.

"In fact, I think it’s best if you go home, Ma’am. Your daughter really needs some rest and I bet you do too. You can come back tomorrow, during visiting hours."

"But can I just-"

"You heard the nurse, Mindy." This time it’s Maron. "And Sharon’s a brave girl. I bet she’ll be fine on her own for one night. Right, Sharon?"

To my surprise, my daughter nods and addresses Maron. "Will you come to see me again?"

"Sure thing, kiddo." Maron winks. "I’ll come back soon. I promise."

I stare at the two of them, unable to mask my shock. If I hadn’t witnessed their exchange with my own eyes, I wouldn’thave believed it was real. I know it’s ridiculous, but if hearts could melt, mine would be a puddle of mush right now. Like a stick of butter left too long in the microwave. Soft, warm, and so gooey that even a family of ants would find it hard to resist.

I move to Sharon’s bedside and bend down to give her a gentle peck on the forehead. "Are you sure you’re going to be okay without me for the night, sweetheart?" I’m probably acting like an overprotective mother, but we haven’t spent a single night apart since the day she was born.

"Yes, Mommy. Mr. Hoppy is here with me," she says, still holding on to his stuffed bunny.

"Okay, baby." I kiss my little fighter’s temple. "I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning, okay?"

I follow the nurse outside, Maron close behind me. The door closes, cutting off the soft beeping of machines. The corridor stretches before us, a stark contrast to the intimate bubble of Sharon’s room. Fluorescent lights hum overhead. The air is thick with the sharp scent of disinfectant; nurses and doctors hurry past, their shoes squeaking on the polished floor.

My head is spinning. The stress and exhaustion of the past day is hitting me hard. Or maybe it’s simply Maron’s proximity, his body heat radiating close to mine.

I turn to face him. The intensity of his stare holds me captive, igniting something within me that I thought was long gone. Memories flood my mind, rushing back with an overwhelming force.

And just like it did all those years ago, my body begins to react. I want to run. I want to stay. I want to slap him. I want to kiss him. I want to tear his clothes off and throw myself at him.The conflicting impulses war within me. And still, for the first time in seven years, I recognize a feeling that I thought I’d long forgotten.

I feel alive.

Truly, undeniably alive.

"Mindy." Maron breaks the heavy silence. His eyes roam over me. "After all this time… you’re still…" He trails off, but the heat in his eyes speaks volumes.

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. "I didn’t think I’d see you again," I whisper.

"Neither did I," he says, moving a little closer.

His proximity completely overwhelms my senses. The scent of him - cedarwood, spice, danger - is making my head spin. I feel a tingling down below, bringing back memories from all those years ago. My body’s reaction to Maron Korolev hasn’t changed. No, not in the slightest.

I want to say something, but whatever it is, it gets caught in my throat.

I missed you like crazy.

Sharon is yours.

Why didn’t you tell me you’re alive?

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