Page 192 of Ruins
She giggles and takes my hand in hers. Her fingers are warm against mine, and her touch is light and delicate. Her fingers intertwine effortlessly, she leans her head on my arm, and she takes a soft breath. “That sounds wonderful. She sounds wonderful.”
“She was,” my voice tight with emotion, “I spread her ashes here so she’s always here when I am.”
Vasilisa squeezes my hand, “It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Amato,” she whispers, causing the lump in my throat to triple.
“She would have loved you.” I whisper shifting toward Vasilisa and meeting her gaze. “I need you to know some things.”
Sensing the seriousness in my voice, her eyes grow wide as she takes a step back, releasing my hand. The sudden lack of her touch sends a pang through me.
I reach out and pull her back to me, the warmth from her body seeping into mine as she looks up at me, concern clouding her eyes.
“Is it about Rachel?” she quietly asks.
I shake my head, “Nothing has ever happened with her.”
She worries her bottom lip and nods slightly. “Then what is it that I have to know?”
“I’ve done things... things I’m not proud of,” I start, swallowing down the lump of guilt in my throat. “There’s blood on my hands, Vasilisa. More than I can ever wash away.”
“I’ve hurt people. I’ve destroyed lives,” I admit, my voice raw.
“I know,” she says quietly, her gaze steady on mine. “I grew up in the same lifestyle, remember?”
“But it’s more than that,” I continue, anxiety knotting in my chest. “After my mother passed, I became someone Ineverwanted to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t tell you,” I reply, hating myself for the secrets I’m keeping from her.
She deserves so much better than this.
“Why?” Her voice is pleading and filled with confusion, “Why can’t you tell me?” She takes a step back wrapping her arms around herself.
“I want to protect you,” I say desperately. The words hang heavily between us, echoing my fears.
“From what?” She questions, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
“Me.”
The weight of my confession settles over me like lead.
The silence stretches between us as she processes what I’ve said. We stand there on the lakeshore for what feels like an eternity, neither of us moving or speaking. Finally, she breaks the silence.
“Santo,” she says softly, reaching out to take my hand in hers. “You could never scare me.”
Her words feel like a balm on my wounded soul, her acceptance washing over me. She squeezes my hand, a silent promise of her trust and faith in me.
“Thank you, Vasilisa,” I say, finally feeling some of the tension roll off of me. Her smile is my reward, her eyes glowing with an emotion that mirrors my own. “Let’s go home.”
Our ride back home is silent but peaceful. Her hands reach under my shirt for warmth as she traces patterns on my skin. I feel her melt into me, the feel of her beating heart thrumming against my back syncing with my own.
The estate looms into view, the only people around are the guards at the gate and the front door. I pull into the garage and take the elevator to the kitchen, as I help her remove her jacket she looks around and her face frowns in confusion.
“Where is everyone?”
“I sent them away.”
She spins around to face me, “Why? Are you leaving too?” her eyes spark with panic. I cup that gorgeous face between my hands.
