She nods.
“Let’s carry him out,” Ravil says. We use the bodyboard, and I put one of the back seats forward to lay Nikolai down flat like I’m transporting lumber. Natasha crawls in the remaining backseat, positioned near his head.
“Keep him comfortable,” I growl, throwing her a dark look before I slam the door.
The order is totally unnecessary. I know without a shadow of a doubt that Natasha will take care of him. That’s her personality. That’s why she made herself indispensable to the vet, brought coffee out to Ravil, and learned everything she would need to know to act as Nikolai’s nurse.
Still, I’m not going to soften my heart toward her again.
I can’t. Not when the consequences are this terrible.
Natasha
* * *
I jerk awake from what must’ve been a dream although it exactly represented my present moment. As in, I dreamed I was in the Land Rover, sitting beside Nikolai, trying to keep his head stabilized on a turn.
The vehicle bumps and jostles, and I realize it was the change to a dirt road that woke me. By the glowing clock on the dash, it’s nearly four in the morning. Dima drives another ten minutes or so then parks the Land Rover in the dark. I blink, my eyes getting used to the darkness. Dima gets out without a word and slams the door. He walks toward the darkened building.
A few moments later, a light comes on, illuminating a large, wooden wraparound porch. Lights go on inside the cabin, giving its windows a warm yellow glow. I’m not sure you can really call it a cabin. Yes, it’s made of logs, but it’s huge and looks newly constructed and expensive.
“We’re here,” I say softly to Nikolai, even though he seems to be out cold. The doctor said the pain meds should keep him asleep until morning.
I climb out and open the back gate of the Land Rover and slide the board toward me.
“You take that end.” Dima appears behind me.
I swallow. This could be tough with just the two of us, but I can do it. At least I have his lighter half. “‘Kay.” I grip the board and back up.
Dima slides in to take the other side and then walks backward up the steps and through the door, which he propped open. I follow his lead into a giant living room area with vaulted ceilings. He leads me to what appears to be a master bedroom, with a giant king bed that he’s already pulled the covers down on.
I’m starting to grunt with the weight, and Dima must notice because he moves quickly, sliding the board onto the bed and taking over my portion until the entire thing is supported. Then he stares down at his brother.
“Should we try to slide him off it?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” The weariness and defeat in Dima’s voice make me want to drop to my knees and howl for what’s happened to his beloved brother.
I have to fix this. To fix Nikolai. I crawl up on the bed beside him on my knees. “You steady him, and I’ll see if I can just slip this out without jostling him too much.”
“Slip it out. Right. Good luck with that,” Dima mutters, but he slides his two palms under Nikolai, one under his hips, the other under his mid-back. “Go.”
I tug. It doesn’t move. Dammit. I lean all my weight backward, and it slides a little in a jerk. I gasp, but Nikolai’s body remains relatively undisturbed. I yank again with all my weight, and the board slides out. “Got it,” I say needlessly.
I think I must want him to praise me or thank me or just somehow acknowledge me, but he doesn’t. He just stares down at his brother stonily.
“Pick a bedroom upstairs. I’ll stay with Nikolai.” Once more, I hear how weary he is, and I feel stupid for wanting anything from him. Of course, he has nothing to give. And all of this is my fault.
I kick off my high heels—the ones I’m about ready to throw into a deep lake because my feet ache so badly—and pick them up to walk up the stairs.
I don’t want to go to bed—not before things have been straightened out between Dima and I. I want to somehow make things right.
But I’m too tired to think straight, and he’s obviously too angry to listen.
Tomorrow, I will fix things.
I hope.
5
Dima
I’m driving over an icy bridge. Alyona is beside me, chattering about friends of ours. About the concert we’re going to see that weekend. Visibility is shit because it’s snowing, and I don’t see the brake lights in front of me until it’s too late. I slam on the brakes, which sends us into a tailspin. We crash through the guardrail and hurtle over the edge into the icy river. Alyona screams and screams, but she’s Natasha now. Natasha, covered in Nikolai’s blood, a look of horror on her face. And then I realize Nikolai’s lying unconscious in the back. He’s been shot, and we won’t be able to save him because we’re crashing through the ice. Water seeps in through the windows as the car sinks. It’s not my car, it’s Ravil’s—he’s going to be so pissed I totaled it.
“What the fuck have you done?” Nikolai demands, waking and sitting up. He’s looking at me, but the gun he points is at Natasha.
I turn and punch him in the face. “Leave her alone. It’s not her fault—it’s mine.”
Fuck.
I wake, cold with sweat and shock. I find Nikolai beside me in the darkness and move my face in close to listen for his breath.
Still alive.
Thank God.
He’s alive, and we’re at the cabin. I’ve only slept a couple of hours.
My dreams were a knotted mess of trauma and guilt. Too much to even begin to climb out of. I consider getting up—dawn is just starting to break—but I’m not willing to leave Nikolai’s side.
As if me lying beside him will make any kind of difference.
It won’t for him.
“Posti, brat,” I murmur in the darkness. I’m sorry, brother.
Natasha
I wake with an aching head and terrible breath and guilt that adds an extra fifty pounds to my chest. I slept in my stupid cocktail dress, which now feels like another punishment.
Last night, a million years ago, when I put it on, I felt so seductive. I'd been thinking about impressing Dima, remembering his erections every time I massaged him. Hoping he might see me as worthy of asking out, especially now that there was competition.
Now I wish to God I’d gone in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. At least they would've made better pajamas. I can’t stand to be in this thing for another second. To say I'm not the cocktail dress type would be an understatement. I live in skinny jeans and Chucks.
I search the drawers in the bedroom I'm in for a t-shirt but find nothing but a spare set of sheets and pillowcases for the bed.
I don’t hear any sounds from downstairs, and part of me just wants to keep hiding up here. I don’t want to face Dima and his wrath and whatever punishment he has planned for me while I’m locked up here with him.
But I need to be a big girl. Still, I slip down the stairs as silently as possible. If Dima’s asleep, I’ll let him stay that way. I peek in the open bedroom door and find him lying on top of the bed beside Nikolai, asleep. I guess I wasn’t the only one who slept in their clothes last night.