Page 77 of Vasily the Nail

“Did you just propose to me?”

Her smirk is playful, but her eyes are honest. “I don’t have a ring for you. Will you still say yes?”

I’m not feeling playful. I’m feeling like there’s not a chance in fuck-all she’s going back to Tony, and Iwillstart a war if I have to. She’s mine just as much as I’m hers, and yep, I’ll burn Phoenix down to keep her.

I sit up, enjoying the way she’s straddling me but needing to touch her, kiss her, as she rides me. “I’ll sayya tebya lyublyu, zvyozdochka.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“Oh. Yeti bellow blue you too.”

“What? That’s not at all what I said.”

“But you know what it means.”

Day 14

Vasily

“Did you havea nice night?” Artyom greets me with the moment I open the door and get into his car.

When I got the text to be ready to go in ten minutes, I knew I was in trouble. I didn’t even let anyone know last night that I wasn’t going to show. Dima stopped by at one point in the night, and I happened to be in the kitchen making sandwiches for Ana and myself. He let me know that everything was mostly quiet, a little scuffle happened at the Mexican club, but it was dealt with quickly. I asked why we were involved at all, he gave me a lazy shrug, and that was the end of it. He didn’t say a word about my shirking my responsibilities to fuck my girl.

I didn’t have any texts from Artyom or anyone else this morning despite his all-hands-on-deck decree from just a few days ago. That felt funny, too. It’s like he’d already assumed I’d left, that Ana and I absconded in the night. I figured Dima would have told him otherwise, but who knows. I love Dima, but he’s not always reliable. I told myself Artyom thinks I’d leave without another word, without even a subtle goodbye.

It actually upset me. Baby that I am, I thought it was the most unsurprising end to my relationship with my brother. He didn’t invite me to his wedding, after all. An entire lifetime we’ve spent together, but I’ve only ever been a burden with him.

Just to be a shit, I took Ana out for lunch at my brother’s favorite restaurant in hopes he’d be there or someone would report back to him that I never left, I’m just such an ass I haven’t bothered to show at a time when they really do need me.

Maybe it worked, maybe it didn’t. Two hours later, I got that message to be ready to go, and I got ready.

I concocted an excuse, too. Drugs and bad alarms. I’m so irresponsible I didn’t bother to tell Ana. My fault. I’m just not ready to give that excuse yet when the car pulls up, and instead of it being Kostya’s, it’s Artyom’s.

I slink down in the seat. “We needed a night, okay?” I say gruffly. “Ana’s been stuck at Kseniya and Miguel’s too many nights. She wanted to be home.”

“You say it like she doesn’t like Kseniya and Miguel.”

I’m hoping my irritated side-eye gets my point across. I do love my brother, and I have been pushing away thoughts of what it will be like leaving him. Leaving everyone. He made it sound easy, like I can just get up and go and he won’t search for me where I’m going, so it’ll be fine. The reality is I won’t be able to talk with him again or Kseniya. Anyone. I could potentially get away with the briefest of conversations, just letting them know I’m okay, or driving hours away to send occasional postcards, but that’s about it.

I may never know if I have nieces or nephews. I won’t be there for milestones. If anyone needs help, they won’t be able to ask me for it. I won’t be there if anyone dies. I love my family, and not just Kseniya and Artyom. The boys in my brigade are just as much my brothers. My earliest memories aren’t just of my parents and my brother; Igor’s also in them. The Bratva, thisbrigade, truly is my family. My fathers, my brothers. The sons I’ll never meet.

“Something’s got you green around the gills,” Artyom says as he pulls out and heads south. His tone is light, observational, but Artyom doesn’t speak without purpose, and I’m not for a second going to believe he thinks I’ve got a stomach bug.

“A lot on my mind,” I admit, feeling like this is about the only place I can be candid with him.

And this might be one of my last chances to have a conversation with him at all, let alone as brothers instead of Bratva members.

“She loves you, if that helps any.”

It doesn’t. I knew that long before she butchered my native tongue. I knew it a week ago. Still, I smirk. “Why do you think she’d rather be with me than with Kseniya?”

At that Artyom snorts and says, “Your stupid robo-dick.”

I try not to laugh and fail miserably. Worse, because I tried so hard to hold it in, it comes out in this awkward, high-pitched giggle that gets Artyom busting a gut, too. And yeah, for a second there, I’m transported to a younger, easier time, the two of us riding our bikes around the block in Saint Petersburg or playing video games in his bedroom, hiding from Kseniya to torment her because she wanted us to play dress-up but cracking each other up so badly the whole time she always found us immediately.

It’s another wound to my heart, but Artyom’s the first to move, resting his hand on my thigh and saying, “I’ll miss you, brother,” his eyes steadfast on the intersection in front of us even though the light’s only just turned red.

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