Page 9 of Toxic Salvation
“Why thefuckdid you call her?”
The poor secretary, Janet—a woman in her fifties with thick spectacles and a cardigan covered in cat pins—looks like shemight faint. Her hands shake as she shuffles through papers, clearly searching for an escape route that doesn’t exist.
“M-Mr. Krayev,” she stammers, “I apologize, but Ms. Fairfax’s name was listed as Luka’s secondary emergency contact. When you didn’t answer your phone?—”
“Her name should have been removed. Vesper Fairfax is no longer?—”
“Right here,” I interrupt before he can finish that sentence. Before he can say something that will reduce me to angry tears. “Vesper Fairfax is right here.”
Kovan turns around.
Those eyes. God, those eyes. Green with flecks of gold that used to make me feel like I was drowning in the best possible way. Now, they just make me feel like I’m drowning, period.
He looks terrible. Not terrible in the way that most people look terrible—Kovan could probably roll out of bed after a three-day bender and still make men jealous and women swoon. But I know his face better than my own, and I can see the changes. The harsher angles of his cheekbones. The shadows under his eyes that speak of too little sleep and too much whiskey. His jaw is locked so tight I’m surprised his teeth haven’t cracked.
Good. I hope he’s been as miserable as I have.
“Vesper?”
The voice that saves me from gawking at Kovan comes from behind the secretary’s desk. Luka’s head pops out from what must be the principal’s office, and the sight of him nearly brings me to my knees.
“Luka!” I cry out.
He runs toward me, and for that moment, everything else disappears. I’m aware of nothing else. Not Kovan’s thunderous scowl. Not the secretary’s nervous throat-clearing. Not the fact that I’m standing in a school reception area trying not to cry.
Just Luka. My boy. The child I’ve missed so desperately that sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night reaching for him.
I catch him in my arms and spin him around, laughing when he giggles—that bright, musical sound I’ve been dreaming about.
But when I set him down, the laughter dies in my throat.
He’s lost weight. Too much weight. His school uniform hangs loose on his small frame, and those beautiful gray eyes that used to sparkle with curiosity now look dull. Tired. There are dark circles under them that make him look years older than nine.
“I knew you’d come,” he whispers, wrapping his thin arms around my waist and holding on like I might disappear.
The pain that hits me is so sharp and sudden that I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. Because this boy will never know his half-brother. The baby growing inside me will never get to know what a perfect role model sibling Luka could have been. They’ll never build pillow forts together or stargaze from Kovan’s backyard or share inside jokes that make them collapse into giggles.
All because their father is a coward and a bully.
“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown,” I murmur, smoothing down his dark hair. It’s longer than it used to be, like no one’sbeen keeping up with his haircuts. It’s only been a month, but he looks so much older.
“I haven’t really grown,” Luka protests, but he stands straighter anyway.
“Yes, you have. You’re practically a giant.”
It’s not entirely a lie. He has grown—just not in the way I meant. The innocence in his face has been carved away. It’s hardened into stone. I ache for him.
“This is not a reunion.” Kovan’s footsteps boom as he comes closer. “This is a mistake. The school should never have called you.”
I force myself to look at him. “But they did call me. And I’m here.”
“So now, you can leave.”
“No!” Luka’s shout reverberates through the reception area. “I don’t want Vesper to leave!”
“Luka, we’ve discussed this?—”
“NO!” This time, Luka’s scream is so loud that I instinctively step back. My hand moves toward my stomach before I catch myself, remembering where I am and who’s watching.
