Page 61 of Scarlet Secrets

I sit on the bed and put a hand on her back, her body so fragile as it shakes. “Angel, I’m sorry. I’m an asshole and I was way out of line.”

She sniffs and turns. “It’s not even that. It’s… it’s everything.” Her gaze meets mine and my heart breaks for her all over again. “How do I move forward without him? I feel like he just stepped out, even though I know he’s gone. And I expect him to just walk in. Why Demyan? Why Max? He was so good. How did this even happen?”

And she dissolves once more.

I’m stricken. In Russian, I say soothing things, sweetthings, all the lies and fairy tales I can think of and she just sobs.

What the hell am I even meant to do? Find the guilty party and make them and theirs suffer, sure. But it’s not going to help Alina. It won’t bring Max back.

Shit. I try to think of something else, but it all sounds fake, wrong, and finally I do the thing I don’t want.

“Alina, what about funeral arrangements?”

She moans and gives a shuddering breath. “His mom’s arranged a small service, immediate family only.”

“All his friends should?—”

“M-max wouldn’t want big; he wouldn’t even what this. I know he’d want a party to celebrate, so people could cheer each other up, but…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know if I could ever face that. Not yet, not for a while.”

I search for the right words, but they don’t exist, so I settle. “If there’s anything you need, I’m here for you, okay?”

“The only thing you can do that I need,” she whispers, “is to punish the animals who did this.”

I latch on to that, something I’m working on anyway. “I can do that.”

“I… I’m going to try and sleep, okay? And be nice to Erin. She lost Max, too.”

Oh, I know that, but it doesn’t change a thing. But I nod and make my way back downstairs.

It’s still a war zone down here and Sasha’s winning. I admire his tenacity, even if it drives me fucking insane. He’s a stubborn child. But right now, I need him to fucking eat and he’s still refusing.

“We made more toast, but he refused. And no one wants cold egg and bacon,” Olga says.

I bite my tongue as I go in the kitchen. There’s got to be something in here. I throw open the cupboard, but I eat clean and I tend not to have much in the way of processedfood. And somehow, the high protein granola mix Magda makes is not going to be something he likes, but I reach for the container and pull off the lid, turning and almost running into Olga and Sasha.

“This?” I offer it to him, but he takes one sniff and starts howling like I offered him poison. I set it down and bend down, trying to ignore his recoil. “C’mon, Sasha,” I say, motioning to the table in the kitchen and Olga puts him down on the seat, a cushion beneath him, “work with me here. I’m not going to starve you, but you need to eat. What do you want?”

He slows his crying, and he looks at me, then at the cupboard and points at something.

I get up. I don’t know who the fuck it belongs to, but there’s chocolate puffs in a box. I grab the milk, a spoon and a bowl, and pour some in, adding the milk.

He stares at it, then me, and I hold my breath.

“Snack!” he says, taking the spoon and shoving the food in his face. Some actually gets in his mouth, though his shirt is filthy and soaked by the end and the table is a mess.

Christ. If that’s the crap she feeds him, then maybe he’s better with me. At least I can wean him on to healthy foods.

I look at the mess and pull a soggy puff from my hair. What I need to do is?—

He smiles.

Sasha smiles.

It’s not big, but to me, it’s the brightest, most amazing thing I’ve seen. He looks at me and it dims, just a bit, but he doesn’t seem as scared of me as he was.

Magda appears, armed with cleaning products, beams at the boy, scowls at me, and says, “Out, out. Take him to play. The day is nice.”

And from the sounds coming from the front door and the shouts in Russian, the furniture and bedding have arrived.

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