Page 45 of Brace and Chase

How this will make Nikolay feel, though, well that probably won’t be pretty.

Speaking of, Nikolay takes a giant bottle of vodka out of his suitcase and puts it on the nightstand, then he disappears inside the bathroom and comes out with one of the little glasses that are always beside the sink.

He pours himself a healthy dose and then sits back down.

I understand what it is now; it’s him getting ready for the worst.

I wish I had a glass like his too, but beggars can’t be choosers and I’m done with putting this off.

“Gab said she needed me to convince you to retire.”

The sound of glass shattering follows.

SEVENTEEN

SANTA

Never in mywildest dreams did I thinkthatwould be the reason why Charlie Heart came out of retirement.

“Fuck, Nikolay, your hand,” he shouts, but I barely hear it.

It makes sense, I suppose. Everything Gab offered him in exchange for thisfavorare things every single hockey player wants. I can’t fault Charlie for taking the deal.

Except... how can I know that everything that’s happened hasn’t been orchestrated by them?

“Explain,” I snap at him, louder than I intended. It doesn’t seem to faze him in the least, he just keeps staring down at my hand.

“You’re lucky you don’t need fucking stitches. Come with me.”

He doesn’t give me a choice, simply pulls hard on my other arm and starts walking out of my borrowed room.

Unless the whole staying here is also part of the manipulation? Was this room always meant to be mine?

Fuck, I sound like one of those insane conspiracy theorists who think the planet isn’t round.

In my haze, I allow him to drag me down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he gets a first-aid kit from under the sink.

It’s only then that I look at my hand.

Covered in blood, with a big enough gash across the palm, I feel the sting of the cut for the first time.

“Shit,” I hiss, then growl at Charlie when he dumps alcohol on it without any warning. “God, you’re an asshole, Charlie.”

“And you’re a stubborn motherfucker, but we can’t all be perfect.” He keeps muttering as he cleans away the blood and then carefully pinches the skin to put some butterfly bandages along the cut. Then he puts gauze on top, tapes the edges to my palm, and finally, he wraps a bandage around my hand.

“I have to admit, that’s good technique, and your quick reaction was pretty good.” He just looks up at me with a stern face, and I have to give it to him. “Okay, it was better than good. But now I need answers, and another glass of vodka.”

Charlie sighs and shakes his head.

“Go get your giant bottle then.” He nods in the direction of the stairs.

I go, and maybe I run up the stairs. My desperation is showing.

I don’t want to believe it. I can’t believe it.

When I’m back in the kitchen, Charlie directs me to sit on one of the stools on the other side of the island while he cleans everything up.

I listen carefully, dissecting every word, as he tells me about that phone call he received back in September.

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