Page 14 of Crimson Tears

Boris moved pillows and blankets so he could easily go to and from the bathroom with me. He held a bucket in front of me every time I was too weak to walk to the toilet and rubbed my back gently until I fell back to sleep each time.

I was like that for two days, but he never left my side. That was the moment that I decided weddings and vows didn’t matter to me. I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me that Boris will stay with me in sickness and in health, he’s already proven to me he will.

I hum as Boris’ fingers travel lower, finding me wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“Are you trying to kill an old man?” he asks in my ear, the bass of his voice vibrates against my back in a way that makes me want to curl into him.

“Just trying to keep that heart rate elevated. I hear cardio is important for people your age.”

I chuckle as a playful smack lands on my ass.

“Watch it, young lady.”

“Never.” I turn in his hold and kiss his lips, throwing my leg over his hip. I can feel his smile pressed to mine, and it makes me giddy. How is it that a man old enough to be my father can make butterflies erupt in my stomach every time he smiles?

“Good morning,” I say as I nuzzle his nose.

“Good morning.” His lips find mine again and I lose myself in his touch. I think of how his fingers worked over me last night.

He promised to make up for lost time while I was out on my mission, and he definitely delivered.

The memory of a pair of dark eyes in the shadows flickers into my mind. I let Cillian watch us. Watch me. My heartrate kicks up as Boris leans back to stretch, and I roll the other way, trying to gather my thoughts.

I let Cillian watch and I didn’t say anything. He was gone before too much happened, but he definitely got an eyeful. I remember that stupid, challenging expression he gave me, as if he were daring me to say something or be embarrassed.

That’s the thing though, Cillian doesn’t know me anymore, I’m not that shy girl who was easily shamed into hiding away. He has no idea who I grew into over the past three years. So much happened after he left and I thought he died. So much I don’t even think I could tell him.

“I’m going to go get breakfast started. I sent Kevin home for the weekend because I wanted alone time with you.” Boris rolls out of bed, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. “I hope the kid likes pancakes.”

“He loves them,” I say on instinct, remembering how much he loved having me over for breakfast whenever his mother made pancakes. He would practically bounce in his chair when he ate them.

Before those breakfasts with them, I never really cared much for the sweet bread, but Cillian’s expression with each bite and the smile he wore convinced me to give them another chance.

“Good,” Boris says as he begins to get dressed. I must get lost in my memories because one minute he’s across the room putting on clothes, and the next he’s by my side, running the back of his fingers over my cheek like I’m something precious.

“I love you.”

I sit up and wrap a hand around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I love you most.”

???

Trying to gather my thoughts feels a lot like trying to clean clothes in muddy water. I throw on a large hoodie and a pair of boxers Boris set aside for me. He has the softest underwear, and I swear if I wouldn’t get judged for it, I would refuse to wear any other kind of pants.

My hair is tossed up in a messy bun, and I decide against socks because our heated floors feel too good under my toes today.

Alright, just go downstairs. They’re probably having coffee and chatting. No one is dead, probably.

As I walk down to the kitchen, I have a bad feeling that this is going to be my new morning mantra for a while. In fact, I find a little part of myself hoping it is, and that freaks me the feck out.

I think I want Cillian close because he was my safe space for so long. From eleven to twenty we were inseparable. Having him here feels right in a strange way.

No, bad Nessa. Focus on the mission. That’s it.

Finding out my father is involved in this mess was like icing on a shite cake, and now I have to process this before said shite goes down.

I have no issue killing my father even if he weren’t involved, but the fact that he started trafficking children is enough toprove to me that he deserves to be six feet under. And Cillian deserves to be part of that too, especially after my father took everything he loved away from him.

I close my eyes tightly and pause, forcing those memories out of my head. I can’t think about that day right now. I won’t.

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