Chapter 41
Eric
We spend the afternoon in the pool, drifting between lazy laps and sun-soaked lounging.
Dmitri is more distant than usual, floating at the far edge or stretched out on a chair with sunglasses hiding his eyes.
I’m lost in my own head the whole time, replaying every sharp word and heavy silence from earlier.
When we finally go back inside, it’s almost time to gear up for the show.
Dmitri gathers us near the bus, voice tight in a way that makes me wonder if the others notice.
“There’s a spare bedroom that someone can use tonight,” he says, then reaches for my bag and slings it over my shoulder himself.
He leans in close enough that his lips brush behind my ear. “You’re with me.”
The words land in a quiet claim that should feel like relief but twists instead, because things are still off between us. The afternoon passed with his distance only getting worse. There were no normal casual touches and teasing grins, only quiet.
“If you’re sure,” I say, eyes flicking away before I can stop them.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he demands, voice turning edged. We hold each other’s gaze for a beat—mine guarded, his searching—before he scoffs and shakes his head once like he’s dismissing the whole mess.
My heart drops lower.
“Anyone taking the spare room?” he asks the group, tone sharper than necessary.
The others exchange quick looks but don’t call out his temper. “I will, if that’s okay,” Tai says, glancing around. “I know I say I don’t snore, but I totally do. It’ll help you guys if I cut logs somewhere else for a change.”
“Fine by me,” Theo chirps, while Dante looks openly panicked at the thought of being stuck alone on the bus with him for a few nights.
Dmitri’s eyes stay locked on me as we step off the bus, bags in hand. He bumps his shoulder against mine gently, and it feels like a truce. I manage a weak smile that he mirrors carefully, but when we reach the stairwell, Anatoly’s voice cuts from behind us.
“Where are you two headed?” he demands.
Dmitri stiffens beside me, but he turns with flawless calm. “We’re putting our luggage in my room, because the show will run late, and we’ll be exhausted when we get back.” He draws the words out slow and clear, like he’s explaining to a child who won’t listen.
Anatoly’s jaw clenches visibly, muscle jumping. “Together, then? The rumors are true?”
My swallow is loud in the sudden hush, and my body locks in place.
“Yes,” Dmitri says after a heavy pause. “Is there a problem?”
“Dmitri, need I remind you—”
“Stop,” Dmitri orders, voice booming with an edge of command I’ve never heard him use. “Eric, go upstairs. I need to have a word with my father.”
“We’ve been through this mess before, Dmitri,” Anatoly snarls.
“I said stop,” Dmitri shouts, the word echoing in the grand hall.
His father flicks a hand toward me, waving down my entire body. “He wasn’t worth it the first time, and he isn’t worth it now.”
I can’t move.
I meet his glare, staring at the way his face twists. Contempt pours out like it’s aimed at a target painted on my chest. The shaky ground I’ve been standing on is built on nothing but naive hope, ridiculous optimism, and fragile little fantasies, and it gives way completely.
Everything shatters.
The world doesn’t want this.
His own family doesn’t want this.
A crushing weight drops onto my sternum, forcing the air out and stealing the last of my resolve. My heart slams against my ribs in chaotic bursts, like it wants out too.
I can’t keep pretending.
I can’t do this.
The words escape before thought catches up. “If he doesn’t want us to share a room, I’ll sleep on the bus.”
Anger mars Dmitri’s stunning face as he whirls toward me, eyes blazing. “Fuck that, Eric. Go upstairs.”
I take one step backward.
Away from the stairwell.
Away from him.
Toward the door.
Another step, then one more.
“No, it’s not worth fighting over me,” I say, voice coming out small and thin. I hate it—the weakness bleeding through every syllable, the way it makes me sound like the problem he’s better off without.
But maybe I am.
Maybe that's the inevitable truth I've been fighting this whole time.
“Goddamn it, Eric!” Dmitri roars, but I’m already turning, already moving. Each stride I force between us chips away at something inside my chest, pieces of my heart crumbling with the distance.
Maybe this is what he needs.
Maybe removing myself is the kindest thing I can do.
Their voices chase me—Dmitri and Anatoly tearing into each other with shouts that permeate through the walls.
I drop my bag by the bus but don’t go inside.
Instead, I run, feet pounding across the lawn until the trees swallow me.
Pine and damp earth flood my lungs as I run deeper, branches snagging at my sleeves like they’re trying to pull me back.
Maybe he's better off without me.
When the house is gone behind me, I collapse. My back hits a tree trunk and I slide down the rough bark until I’m on the ground. A broken sob tears out of my throat, and hot tears track down my cheeks as the words echo in my head.
Pitiful.
Disgusting.
Pathetic.
Every horrible thing I've read about myself blends with Anatoly's surety that I'll never be worthy of his son. It all rings louder now in the quiet woods, beating against my skull until it’s the only sound left, and there's no one here to contradict it.
Why did I ever think I could do this?
Maybe I never could.