Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
VIKTOR
The morning is sunny, and Sofia hums beside me as she crouches down, reaching into the raised garden box with her tiny, gloved hands.
The gloves are a little too big for her, borrowed from Avelina and rolled at the wrist, but she insisted because “gardeners use gloves, Viktor,” and apparently that’s what she is.
I make a mental note to order her some gloves that fit as we harvest carrots. Or rather, she’s pulling them with all her might while I supervise and try not to laugh when they come flying from the dirt and smack her in the chest.
“I got it!” she says triumphantly, holding one like a trophy.
“You did,” I say, reaching over to brush dirt from the ridged root. “That’s a good one.”
She giggles and adds it to the small pile in the basket. Queenie is curled beneath a shady patch of tomato plants nearby, her bushy tail flicking lazily. My eyes flicker to her every so often. I think she likes being here with us. Or maybe she just enjoys sunbathing out here.
After the basket is half full, Sofia sighs and wipes her forehead.
“Let’s take a break and have some water,” I suggest. Pushing to my feet, we walk to the bench on the far side of the garden. I move toward the shed and take a small tin that I’ve stashed here just for her. I hold the tin out like it’s a secret treasure.
Sofia’s eyes widen. “Lollipops!”
My lips twitch into a small smile. “Just don’t tell your mom.”
Her brow furrows. “It’s bad to lie.”
She has a point. “We’re not, um, lying. I just don’t want her to feel left out.”
Sofia hums, then nods. She plucks a grape-flavored one from the bunch before settling on the bench. I take a cherry one for myself as we relax in companionable silence, enjoying the sunshine and sugar.
Albert wanders in through the gate. He’s obviously just woken up from a nap and has come to find us. He comes to a halt and stretches out on a patch of grass, panting in the heat and letting his eyes slip shut as he rests his head on his front paws.
Sofia and I watch as Queenie stalks over, her tail high, and pauses a foot away from him. She sniffs the air. Albert opens one eye and pricks his ears slightly. Without warning, Queenie scampers forward and nudges her nose gently against his.
Sofia gasps. “Aww! Queenie gave the doggy a nose boop!”
I bite back a laugh. “A nose boop? That’s the technical term?”
She nods, serious. “Yes, I think it is.”
My lips tug up before I turn back to Queenie and watch her do it again. Then she curls up next to Albert and snuggles into his side.
“Why do cats do that?” Sofia asks.
I look down at her, considering. “I think it’s Queenie’s way of saying, I trust you. Or maybe…it’s her way of saying to Albert that she wants to be best friends with him.”
Sofia goes silent for a moment, her brow scrunched in concentration. Then she clambers into my lap. No warning. No preamble. And before I can react, she brushes the tip of her nose gently against mine.
My whole body tenses at the touch. “Um…” I clear my throat, trying not to sound too panicked. “What are you doing?” Sofia clearly struggles with touch sometimes, but she’s not nearly as avoidant of it as me.
“Giving you a nose boop. Because I want to show you I trust you and like you a lot.” Then she grins at me. “Wanna be besties with me?”
Besties?
The world tilts on its axis for a few long seconds and almost tips right over. She’s still looking at me, bright-eyed and waiting, like what she just asked isn’t the most mind-blowing question of my whole damn life.
My throat works, but no words come out.
She trusts me—just like that?
I clear my throat again and will my voice to stay steady. “Um…of course, I’m your friend.”
“But best friends?”
Her voice is so soft and hopeful that it guts me. “Yeah, best friends,” I echo in shock.
Her smile is instant, and she gives me a nod before scrambling off my lap and going back to her lollipop like nothing just happened.
What. The. Hell? I blink. My muscles relax, and I breathe out. She’s acting like she didn’t just completely alter my brain for a minute there. I watch her for a moment longer, my brow pinched.
I’ve never had a best friend.
Sure, I had the guys—Grigory, Matvey, and Nikolai—but they’re more brothers.
Circumstances threw us together, and we ended up growing up together.
We survived hell together and built something out of nothing.
But this? This is something else altogether.
Something gentler. Something special. Something that doesn’t come from the trenches of shared trauma. It’s freely given.
And especially when I know that Sofia doesn’t always like touch, it makes it all the more mind-blowing that she did it in the first place.
I sit in the sunshine, stunned in the best way. What is it about Avelina and her kids that just knocks me sideways and keeps me coming back for more?
Later that day, as I’m organizing supplies near the truck bay at the warehouse, Grigory walks past me with a clipboard. He pauses, brow arched.
“So, word on the street is that you’ve got a new bestie,” he smirks.
I grunt.
“I hear she’s about three feet tall, cute as a button, and her favorite color is pink.”
“People around here gossip too much,” I grit out.
“Yeah, the men tend to talk a lot.” He leans against the wall beside me. “Seriously, it’s…sweet.”
I glance at him, then look back at the crate. “I didn’t know it’d…feel like that.”
“Like what?”
I shrug. “Like it mattered. I…can’t recall ever having a best friend. Not really. Never thought anyone would want me to be theirs. You know, because I’m…different to most people.”
Grigory stills. “Viktor—”
“No, I mean it.” I shove my hands into my pockets.
“You guys are different. You’re my brothers, sure.
But we got thrown together because we had to survive.
But this? I guess she chose me simply because…
she likes me?” My last sentence comes out like a question, like I’m still surprised that anyone would want me as their best friend.
Grigory is quiet for a long stretch before he speaks again in a quiet voice.
“Even if we hadn’t gone through what we did, if I’d just met you somewhere else, I still would’ve chosen you.
You’re not just a brother, Viktor. You’re one of the best friends I’ve got.
Same goes for Nikolai and Matvey. And there’s no one else I’d want as a best friend than you guys. ”
I swallow hard. It’s a simple thing for him to say. But it sticks. Hard. And the words wrap around me in some sort of comforting embrace. “Thanks,” I croak. Then, because I can’t leave well enough alone, I open my big, dumb mouth again. “Grigory, what’s the score for love?” My words blurt out.
“The what?” he asks, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
“The score for love. Say if liking someone is around a six out of ten feeling, and caring about them might be an eight out of ten feeling, does loving them have to be a ten out of ten feeling? Or does it have to score even more than a ten?”
He studies me for a long moment. I’m almost sure I’ve described it wrong and need to try again. Or that he thinks I’m a complete idiot for having to ask this in the first place. He folds his arms. “You’re trying to quantify an emotion, Viktor?”
“Yeah.”
He drags a hand across his jaw as he thinks hard. “Love isn’t really about any sort of number to reach. It’s about…who you’d call when everything falls apart. Who makes you want to be better. Who makes things feel calm and quiet in your head, not anxious or stressed.”
I mull it over. “I think I’m…there.”
His gaze narrows. “With Avelina?”
I nod.
“Then why are you asking about numbers, Viktor?”
“Because what if I’m wrong? What if I mess up? What if I think I’m doing okay, but I just break something instead? I don’t get it. The emotional stuff. I can fake it, I guess…but I don’t want to with her.”
Grigory looks at me for a few moments. “Then you keep showing up. You keep trying. That’s all love is. Trying when it’s hard. Showing up when it matters.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “I’m not used to this.”
“No one is. You just gotta take it one day at a time, Vik.”
“Yeah, one day at a time.” I echo softly.
But the knot in my chest won’t untangle.
Because I want this. I want her. I want the whole family. I want Sofia to keep calling me her bestie and giving me those nose boops. I want Leon’s face to keep lighting up whenever he sees me. And I want Avelina to keep looking at me like I’m not just some big mistake.
But deep down, I know I’m going to get it wrong. I’m still worried that what’s inside me—the way I see the world and the way my brain works—will be too much or not enough for her. That I’m never going to be the type of man someone like her deserves.
Grigory dips his chin. “You’ll figure it out. You’ve got this.”
But I’m not so sure I will.
It’s a thought I can’t shake, no matter how hard I try.
And I know that if I don’t figure it out, the failure might just completely ruin me.