Page 31 of Valentine's Miracle

“Fyodor and I have this tradition. Every June and January, we travel to places to get away from our lives. He has his reasons, and I have mine, but we don’t talk about it. That January in our Junior year, we went to Sweden to see the northern lights. It was colder than any other years, and we had to bundle up so much that we waddled.”

Thinking back, Fyodor had fallen so many times that his butt became too sore to move the next day. I had to take care of him because he’s a man-child and he whines too much, but we had fun in the cabin he rented.

“The cabin wasn’t like a hotel. There would be wind, but we had a fireplace and ridiculously warm blankets. It was our first time being in the wilderness, so we didn’t know how to do anything, but we tried. Obviously Fyodor was responsible for the wood chopping; he kept saying he saw bears looking at him while salivating.”

Silas brings me closer to him, sliding foot between mine and growling. “You trust him too much.”

“Well, he is Fyodor, and he’s my close friend.” I shrug as much as I can, given the space between us. “He becomes so paranoid that he didn’t want to chop wood anymore, so he burned clothes. He’s so stupid that I was speechless, but we made it work. He would still get the wood, and I would be there to supervise no matter how much I didn’t want to go outside.”

I huff, rolling my eyes. “He was crying too, and his tears froze on his face, and I couldn’t stop laughing until we really did see a bear. It’s safe to say that we talked the whole night because we didn’t have wood to burn and we didn’t want to be eaten by the bear.”

“That is dramatic,” he points out, chest rumbling with a chuckle.

“It’s not as dramatic as Fyodor momentarily giving up his Russian identity because he couldn’t even fight a bear.”

Silas spreads his fingers on my hips, kneading and soothing my shivering body. I’m not betting on a warm room tonight; it’s going to take a while to bring the power back on for multiple grid blackouts as the news has reported.

“You said you have that tradition for a reason,” he starts, but he trails off. He wants to know my reasoning, but I’m torn because I don’t want to hurt him by not telling him, but I don’t want to break this dream that just had started.

I have only had Silas for hours.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he murmurs. “I’m fine with not knowing.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not a big deal anymore.” I shake my head, sighing against the column of his throat.

“I didn’t have friends in college. Only Fyodor stayed with me. It was hard at the beginning; I was in a new state, no one to turn to, and well, that.”

That misunderstanding. I don’t even know what else to call it other than what it really is.

“I use all of my free time to study. I wanted to get into a program that only accepted honor students. It’s also because I was trying to not remember you. The semester would end, and I wouldn’t have anything to distract me from thinking of you.”

Silas kisses the top of my head, merely holding me close to him as the steady thumps of his heart lure me to a sense of security. I’m safe with him, and he’s not going to disappear like a dream if I close my eyes for one second.

“Fyodor and I recognize the signs of avoidance through each other, and we agreed that we would leave the state during our breaks. If there was something exciting, I wouldn’t remember you.”

Silas whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” I wrap my own arm around him, feeling the power under the bulging muscles on his back.

“We wouldn’t be here without a series of events,” I murmur, laughing under my breath. “All of this was just miscommunication and misunderstandings. We are a romance cliché troop.”

He doesn’t find it humorous as I did. “It wouldn’t have happened if I just listened to you.”

“Hush, we’re here, aren’t we?” My hand cups his cheek, rubbing his jaw and smiling softly with forgiveness as his green eyes twist with guilt.

“I lost seven years with you.”

“I did too, but I couldn’t have been with you anyway.”

He growls; that statement triggers a flash of fury in his eyes. His face may not have much to show others, but his eyes are always talking to me. “Why not?”

“I was eighteen, and you were sixteen, Silas. I don’t want prison on my resume, and you were too young.”

It’s the clearest logic. There was no way we would have worked out as people will see me as a bad person while he will be ostracized even further. Silas is known in our neighborhood; he’s not the best influence towards our neighbors’ children. They often keep away from him other; he only had his childhood friends and a big family consisting of us three.

“I wasn’t too young,” he argues, a crushing grip on my hip yields my body closer to him.

I sigh. “According to the law, you were. Besides, you have Sebastian.”

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