Page 25 of Bratva's Vow
I closed my eyes. That one hit right in the solar plexus. How could he miss me already? That had to be some sort of red flag, didn’t it? “You do?”
“This house feels so fucking empty without you in it.”
Goddammit. “I’m almost done,” I said again, but my tone had softened to mush. “But you’re going to have to make up for being such an asshole.”
A pause. Then, dryly, “I’ll take you to a car dealership tomorrow and?—”
I laughed. “Don’t you dare. I’ll see you in a few, Max.” What would I need a car for anyway? So Nik could get the pleasure of driving me around in it? No, thank you very much.
“I love you,” he said. “Be safe.”
My answer came like muscle memory.
“I love you too.”
I ended my call with Maxim and moved more quickly to pack up all I needed. Despite arguing with him about how overprotective he was, I didn’twantto worry him. I zipped open the small interior pouch of my suitcase to tuck in the last of my socks and that extra charger I always forgot existed. My fingers brushed something stiff beneath the lining.
It felt like paper..
I pulled it out, expecting a receipt, but it was a photograph. I turned it over and nearly dropped it.
It was the only picture I had of the three of us—my mom, my dad, and me. I was maybe eight years old, missing a front tooth and grinning like I’d won a lifetime supply of candy. We were in some park I barely remembered, sitting on a faded plaid blanket. My mom was cross-legged with her arms looped around her knees, laughing at something off-camera. My dad was next to her with one hand resting on her shoulder and the other lightly on my back, his face caught midsmile like he wasn’t quite used to being photographed but was doing it anyway.
I sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, the photobalanced on my knees. For a few seconds, the noise from the other room faded away—Jess and Nik, the faint hum of the AC. All of it dimmed.
Grief came quietly, like it always did. A tightness in my chest. A prickling behind my eyes.
I missed my childhood. Back when everything was okay and I had a mother and a father. At least I’d gotten closure with my mom. I knew where she was buried. I’d been able to say good-bye.
But my dad…
That was a different kind of ache. The kind that never stopped buzzing under my skin. He was just gone. One day he was there, tired from work, eating cereal at the counter, ruffling my hair. And then he wasn’t. No explanation. No funeral. No answers.
Just gone like he was a figment of my imagination.
And now, staring at this picture, I realized how much I wanted to know what had happened to him. Where he went. Why he left. Why he stopped loving me.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there. At some point, the photo had gone blurry in my hands and my chest was hitching. Jess had somehow slipped in beside me without a word and wrapped her arms around me, soft and solid, her chin resting on my shoulder as I cried.
She didn’t say anything. She just held me.
Eventually, the tears slowed, leaving behind that drained, hollow feeling I always got after. Like I’d wrung out something too tender from inside me. I swiped at my face, sniffled, and handed her the photo.
“I found it stuffed in the lining,” I said, voice scratchy. “Forgot I even had it.”
Jess looked at it carefully, brushing the edge with her fingertips. “God. You look like a gremlin in this picture.”
“I was eight,” I huffed, but a small smile broke through.
“Still a gremlin.”
“Max’s gremlin.”
She laughed and nudged me. “You work things out with your man, then?”
I nodded. “Yeah. He apologized. Can’t believe he did.”
“Why not? He doesn’t want to lose you.”
