Chapter Thirty-Four
Adrik
Seversk, Russia
Adrik followed Viktor and Burian each carrying a bouquet of roses into the hospital room, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead.
His mother sat waiting in a wheelchair, wrapped in a soft blanket, her hair brushed neatly like she’d been preparing for this moment.
The second she saw all three of them together—her husband, her sons—her face crumpled. Tears spilled instantly.
The sight of her crying knocked the air out of him. His chest tightened, a sharp pinch right beneath his ribs, and he had to swallow hard against the sudden knot in his throat. For a second, he couldn’t move—just stood there, heat rising behind his eyes as something familiar twisted inside him.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume. Viktor kissed her next, then Burian. For a moment, they looked like a family again. A broken one, sure, but still a family.
Viktor wheeled her out to the car, and Adrik walked beside them, hands shoved in his pockets, trying to ignore the knot tightening in his stomach. He hated hospitals. He hated Russia. He hated how small his mother looked in that chair.
Once they got home, they gathered in her bedroom and had the roses put in vases on her dresser.
The room was warm, filled with soft lamplight and the faint smell of lavender.
Viktor sat on the edge of the bed as if he belonged there.
Adrik and Burian stood, both of them awkward and tense, like they weren’t sure where to put their hands or their emotions.
“I want you to return to New York with me,” Viktor said, voice gentle but firm.
His mother turned her head toward Adrik, eyes searching his face. “Tell me, Adrik… did you settle things with your father?”
Adrik swallowed. He hated talking about this. Hated admitting any of it out loud. “He pulled his hit on me and Sergei.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “And how do you feel about that?”
He glanced at Viktor and then back at her. “Relieved I’m not a target. And I’m not banned from New York… from everyone and everything I love.”
That was the truth. Or at least part of it. The other part was that he still didn’t trust Viktor completely. Not yet.
“Are you going to return with us?” she asked.
There it was—the question he’d been dreading. The one that made his chest tighten. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to disappoint her. But he also wasn’t going back to New York. Not when he had Hans. Not when he finally had something good.
“No,” he said softly. “I’m happy in Germany with my boyfriend.”
Her expression softened, but there was sadness there too. “Will you visit me in New York if I go home?”
“Of course, Mom. I love you.”
Viktor leaned closer to her. “Please come home. Let’s start all over again. I don’t want to lose you or any member of our family.”
She looked at Adrik again, like he was the compass she trusted most. “What is the right thing to do?”
Adrik stepped closer, his voice low and honest. “Go with your heart. You love him, and he loves you.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, lingering for a second. He wanted her safe. He wanted her happy. Even if that meant being an ocean away.
Burian kissed her too, murmuring something soft.
Adrik watched, a faint pinch settling behind his ribs.
Whatever tenderness Burian was trying to show—whatever scraps of affection he’d learned over the years—felt foreign to him.
Burian was his mother’s favorite for whatever reason and Adrik didn’t understand.
Viktor straightened, his voice shifting into that low, authoritative register when he wanted things done his way. “You two go. I need to talk to your mother alone.”
Adrik nodded and stepped back. The moment he crossed the threshold, everything he’d been holding together pressed down on him—family expectations, old loyalties, guilt he didn’t ask for, love he didn’t know how to carry. It all sat heavy on his shoulders.
But underneath the mess, one truth stayed steady.
He had Hans. And for the first time in his life, he had a future he actually wanted.
Footsteps echoed behind him. Burian. Of course.
“Hey, Adrik.” Burian’s voice was rough, like the words scraped on the way out. “I’m sorry. I know you hate me… same way I hated you all these years. He always favored you. Never me. When you left, he told me he was stuck with the weak son. Blamed me for you leaving.”
Adrik stopped, jaw tightening. “Because you are the reason all this shit went down. And you are weak, dishonest, and empty-headed.” The anger came easy—too easy. There was nothing Burian could say that would soften it.
Burian didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled two envelopes from his pocket and held them out. “These are from the boys. They miss Uncle Adrik.”
That hit him somewhere he didn’t want to touch. He took the envelopes carefully, as if they were fragile. He loved those boys as if they were his own. Leaving them behind had never been part of the plan, but Germany left little room for being an uncle, and that made him sad.
“I’ll always love them,” he said. “If you’d let them travel to Germany, I’d take them in a heartbeat.”
Burian shook his head. “Never, Adrik. When you can forgive me, then you can see them in New York.”
The bitterness snapped back fast. “Then fuck you.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He headed to his room, threw what remained into his suitcase, and zipped it shut with more force than necessary. He sent Yakov a message to pick him up. Then his phone rang.
“Hey, Adrik! You okay?” Hans sounded warm, steady, and everything this house wasn’t.
“I’m coming home,” Adrik said. “Leaving this house now, heading for the airport.”
“I can’t wait. We have lots to talk about.”
“Good things, I hope.”
“I think so. Is your itinerary the same?”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m leaving earlier to make sure there is no hold at the checkpoints. Meet me at Rostock.”
“I’ll be there.”
A small smile tugged at him. “Got to go. Love you, Hans.”
“Love you too.”
He set the suitcases by the door, and went to say goodbye. He knocked.
“Come in,” Viktor said.
Adrik stepped inside. “I’ve come to say goodbye. I need to catch my flight early tomorrow and I’m not sure how long the checkpoints will take.”
“You just got here,” his mother said, worry creasing her face.
“I’ll visit you at Christmas,” Adrik said, keeping his voice gentle for her sake.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, letting the moment be hers.
But as he straightened, his eyes flicked to Viktor—sharp, brief, a reminder of everything that still sat between them.
The unspoken truth hung there, heavy and understood, even if he didn’t say it aloud.
Viktor reached for him, pulling him closer. “If you need anything, call me. I love you, son.”
“Thank you.” The words felt too small for the storm inside him. He left before it all spilled over.
Yakov called to say he was outside. Adrik hauled his suitcase to the jeep. They made small talk on the drive, weaving through checkpoints until they finally cleared Seversk. At the airport, he checked in and collapsed into a chair, exhaustion dragging him under until the morning.
A nudge woke him. He blinked up and there was Sergei.
“What are you doing here?” Adrik muttered, still half-asleep.
“I didn’t think we left on a good note. I couldn’t sleep.”
“That’s because we left on a fucked up note.”
Sergei winced. “I thought about what I said. I said everything wrong.”
“What was wrong? You don’t want to associate with a gay criminal element? That’s what I am to you.”
“No.” Sergei shook his head hard. “You mean everything to me. We can still be friends. I’ll always be there for you. Please accept my friendship. That’s all I can offer, Adrik.”
The boarding announcement cut through the moment. Adrik felt tears slip free, and he didn’t bother wiping them. “You’ll always have a place in my heart,” he said, standing.
Sergei pulled him into a hug. “Stay safe, Adrik. Call me when you get home.” He pressed a business card into Adrik’s hand.
“Thanks.” Adrik stepped toward the gate.
“Hey, Adrik!” Sergei shouted.
Adrik turned. Sergei gave him thumbs-up.
Adrik gave one back before walking on.