Page 75 of Unrequited
I tell her about my sister, Kyla. And the youngest, Bronwyn. “Kyla’s only a few years younger than me, but you’d never guess it from the way she carries herself. She got our grandmother’s red hair, but not her softness. Kyla’s like iron, burns hot, never bends. Put our parents through hell. Still does. Then there’s Bronwyn.” My voice softens when I speak of her. “You’ll like her,” I say. “Not sure you’ll like Kyla.”
“She sounds like someone you have to warm up to,” she says with a little smile and a wink. “I know the type. Did you forget who my brother is?”
“Tell me about them again,” I say. “I only know them as my enemies.”
She flinches, but barely. She quickly rights herself and swallows hard.
“There’s Rafail, you know him. He’s about your age, I think,” she says quietly, glancing at her hands.
There’s a gap in our years, but I like it. I like knowing she’s younger, a little more untouched by the world. Some wouldcall me a bastard for what I plan to do to her, but they don’t know the half of it. I’ve done worse. Much worse.
And I’ll take good care of my little Zoya.
“Rafail is… hmm.” She thinks for a second. “Probably the most loyal person you’ll ever meet.”
Great. That bodes brilliantly for me.
“He’s good to his wife, his kids. His family. Gave up his whole life to raise us after… well, after everything. Against some heavy odds too.”
I don’t want to admire the bastard, but I do. Reluctantly.
“Eighteen years old, your whole life ahead of you, and you become a father figure overnight? No thanks.” I shake my head.
“And then there’s Semyon,” she says, her brows knitting. “He’s… harder to explain. With Rafail, what you see is what you get. But Semyon, he’s different. Doesn’t show emotions like the rest of us. Some say he doesn’t feel them at all.”
She pauses, her voice going soft. “But that’s not true. It’s not.”
There’s something about the way she says it, like she’s trying to convince herself too.
“He married his childhood crush. Her name's Anya. She's the one who owns the bakery. And she has a little brother, Stefan. They became his guardians, the pair of them.” I nod. I know all this on paper, sure I do, but it hits different, hearing it from her ownlips.
“Then there’s Rodion,” she says with a smile, her voice warming. “He was always kind of our class clown, you know? Always, and I meanalways, in trouble with Rafail.” She shakes her head with a soft laugh.
“There’s nothing any of Rafail’s kids can throw at him that he hasn’t already seen or had to handle, thanks to Rodion.”
I smirk. Yeah, I understand that well enough.
“The youngest probably thinks he’s bulletproof, eh?” I say, and she nods with that knowing little grin. But then, just for a moment, her expression falters. She looks a bit sad.
She misses them. I can tell. They're practically all she's ever known. Her whole world.
“And Rodion’s married too, yeah?” I ask, softening my tone.
“Yes,” she says with a nod. “He married a girl named Ember. She’s the one who got me into romance books.”
“Romance books?” My brow quirks. “You like to read romance?”
“Like?” She laughs. “I read two hundred fifty books last year.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I don’t think I’ve read two hundred fifty books in me whole life,” I admit.
She laughs again, and it’s bloody adorable. She covers her mouth like she’s trying to stifle it, her shoulders lifting a little. It's bashful, sweet. I want to pull her into me, tuck her under my chin, and kiss that little temple of hers.
“What do you like about romance novels?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Oh gosh… everything,” she says, and there’s a dreamy look in her eyes. “I’ve always been a hopeless romantic.”
Good to know. My little lass likes the sweet things. And here I am, the devil who dragged her out of her homeland and across the sea.
