Chapter Fifteen Haven #2
“No one else wants to be around me,” she said quietly at last. “It doesn’t matter how often Tommy says it’s not my fault; people still blame me for what Oscar did.
” She avoided Thorn’s eyes and went back to chopping the eggplant, feeling his gaze on her.
“I’m surprised Mom hasn’t decided I’m the actual devil, not Dad,” she muttered, trying to inject some humour into her situation.
"They are fools, Evie, and they are missing out on your company and presence in their lives."
He walked around the island and pulled her into a tight hug, warmth and safety washing over her immediately. Turning, she pressed her forehead against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist - the only place narrow enough for her to reach all the way around.
“I am concerned for your mental health,” he murmured, “but very happy that I get to have you with me more often.”
“Maybe I should start going to yoga with you. I already have your number, so I won’t bug you for it and I’ll act as a deterrent to the other women. We’ll be so touchy and affectionate they’ll think we’re together.”
Evie changed the subject before she started crying. Thorn always seemed to know exactly what to say to make her feel understood and loved, and she wanted to help him the way he helped her.
Thorn pulled back and looked down at her, his blue-green eyes sparkling. “You would do that for me? I have missed going.”
“Of course, like you even have to ask.” She giggled as he kissed her cheek and pulled her into another hug.
“I am fortunate to have you, Little One.”
“I’m lucky to have you, too, Thorn.” She didn’t want him to let her go and cuddled closer, staying in his arms for a few more minutes. Understanding that she needed to be held, he rested his cheek against her head until she reluctantly pulled back. He lifted her chin and smiled gently.
“Things will work out, Evie. I know it feels like there is a hurricane centered on you, but I am here whenever you need me.”
She nodded, unable to find the words to thank him for everything. He seemed to understand, because he didn’t say anything else, just moved back to his place on the other side of the island and nodded toward her cutting board.
“Come on, let’s finish cooking. Try your Viljamovka.”
Evie chuckled and took a sip as he instructed. “Oh, that’s delicious, Thorn!” It had a lightly sweet pear flavor with just a hint of honey and vanilla behind it. There was no harsh burn, only a warmth that spread through her chest as she swallowed.
“I think in another life you were Serbian, Mali?a,” he said with a grin. “You’ve picked up the language so easily, and you love the food and drink.”
“Well, I love you, so how could I not?”
She enjoyed every minute of their time together, especially when Thorn taught her about his culture and traditions.
When his permanent visa came through in early March and he went back to Serbia to collect his things, he’d waited for spring break so he could take her with him, showing her the land where his family’s farm once stood.
It lay on the edge of the hills outside Valjevo, near the river.
The fields and orchards were overgrown now, but Thorn told her his parents had grown wheat and corn, with plum and pear trees behind the house.
Nothing remained but the foundations of the house and outbuildings, and he explained that reclaiming the land after the war had been more about creating a memorial for his family than about ownership.
In the center of the old foundation stood three large stones, each one carefully carved with the names of his parents and sister.
They finished the ?uve?, laughing and teasing one another as the mood shifted back to the lighthearted comfort that usually marked her time with Thorn. Later, they sat down to eat in the living room, the coffee table pulled close to his sectional so they could watch movies.
Evie’s love for Serbian comfort food wasn’t something she pretended for Thorn’s sake.
She genuinely loved the rich, warm casseroles filled with vegetables, rice, and chunks of beef or chicken, and how everything - from preparation and cooking to eating - seemed to carry a sense of ritual.
When she finished her second plate, she leaned back on the couch with a soft, contented sigh.
“That was incredible.” She smiled at him, feeling full and a little sleepy, something she was sure the three glasses of Viljamovka had a lot to do with. “Way better than any restaurant.”
“You are too kind.” Thorn returned her smile with a lazy one of his own, then stood up with a groan and gathered their dishes. “I have a surprise for you, so close your eyes.”
“Really?” She sat up, excitement bubbling, then remembered the birthday cake. Hoping she could still manage a slice, she watched as he started backing toward the kitchen.
“You are not closing your eyes.” He frowned, folding his arms and giving her his intimidation face.
Sorry!” She giggled and quickly covered her eyes with both hands to prove she wasn’t peeking.
Even after nearly three years of friendship, being reminded of how quietly Thorn could move was always unsettling.
She barely heard the fridge open and close, then the faint clink of a drawer, and silence.
A moment later came the soft flick, flick of a lighter and the faint scent of his sandalwood-and-pine soap.
Peeking through her fingers, she caught a glimpse of him lighting a candle on the cake he’d made and felt her affection swell. He was adorable, caring, and had been her rock for the last two and a half years, more so even than Tommy, which was saying something.
She shut her eyes again just before he sat beside her, but not before she saw him place a small green velvet box tied with a bow next to the cake and felt her heart melt all over again.
“Okay, you can open your eyes now.” His voice was a low rumble next to her ear, and she ignored the shiver that ran down her spine as she dropped her hands.
The cake looked perfect, with chopped walnuts coating the sides and a smooth chocolate glaze on top. From the height, she guessed there were at least eight layers, each with chocolate buttercream in between.
“Thorn! Thank you!” She quickly leaned forward to blow out the candle before it could drip wax, then shifted up onto her knees, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. “Can I open my gift first?” she asked eagerly.
He nodded, clearly pleased by her reaction, and watched as she opened the small velvet box.
“Thorn…” she whispered. She’d expected a ring or earrings, but not this - a delicate lily of the valley ring in white gold, the tiny leaves in green enamel and the blossoms made of soft pink pearls. Her breath caught as he took the box and gently slid the ring onto her middle finger.
“Perfect fit,” he said with a grin, kissing the back of her hand. “I was afraid it would be too big, and we would have to get it resized.”
“I love it!” Evie held her hand out, admiring the way it caught the light. “You’re amazing.” She hugged him again and kissed his cheek, wrinkling her nose when his beard tickled her skin. “Thank you so much!”
Thorn chuckled and cut her a slice of cake. “You deserve it, Little One.”
**********
Thorn
After they finished their cake, Evie curled up against his side, and they put on another movie. About halfway through, Thorn noticed she wasn’t laughing anymore. Looking down, he saw she was fast asleep against him.
“Jadna moja mala,” he murmured softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and brushing his thumb along her cheek. “My poor girl.”
The fallout from Oscar’s trial and sentencing had worn her down more than he realized.
The dark circles under her eyes, the weight she’d lost, the way she always seemed a little sad when she thought no one was watching…
all of it worried him. He wasn’t sure what else he could do except keep reminding her that he’d always be there if she needed him.
He shifted carefully, gathering her into his lap to carry her down to her room in Tommy’s penthouse.
She sighed softly in her sleep and burrowed against his chest, and a wave of affection washed over him.
His love for her had grown to the point that he would cheerfully tear apart anyone who brought her the smallest measure of pain.
Death and killing were a part of his life, a part he no longer believed he could ever fully escape.
It was a job. Someone had to do it, and he accepted that.
There was already so much blood on his hands; what was a little more?
He hadn’t been lying when he told Evie that he didn’t know how many people he’d killed - not because he’d forgotten, but because he refused to count the faces that haunted his dreams. But as he looked down at Evie’s sleeping face, still faintly tense even in rest, he knew that killing the people who hurt her would never haunt him the way the others did.
He was gathering her to him, about to stand, when she opened her eyes and smiled up at him apologetically.
“Sorry, I fell asleep. Too much Viljamovka.”
“Do not worry, you clearly needed it. I am sorry I woke you.” Thorn relaxed back into the couch and smiled down at her. “Do you want to try to finish the movie?” If she was awake and comfortable, he wouldn’t make her leave.
“Can I stay like this?” Evie managed to curl even closer against his chest, and his heart clenched at how small and innocent she looked there.
Thorn nodded and reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. “Of course. I will make sure you get to bed when it is time.”
“You always do.”