Chapter 9 - Iosif
I watch her, curled up against the door, as far as she can get when we’re sharing a backseat. Her breathing is too careful, too measured. Her small hands are bundled into little fists in her lap. Every so often, they’ll clench.
“You’re fucking awful at this,” I groan, done waiting for her.
Her eyes snap open. “Hmm?”
“Faking sleep,” I add. “You’re too tense.”
She sits up, spine turning ramrod straight. “Maybe,” she huffs, stubbornly, “I was resting my eyes. Did you consider that?”
“For twenty minutes?”
“It’s been a long night,” she says meekly after a telltale pause.
“Yeah,” I agree. “At what point of that long night did you pick something to flip out about?”
Her entire face crumples. Her eyes shut tightly, like I’m causing her pain. She is fucking perplexing.
“Janella. Don’t.”
“I didn’t do anything,” she says softly, no fire to her words.
I hate everything about it.
“You’ve reverted to being that scared, spineless girl I pulled off that fucking wall,” I press. “I was getting used to you talking. Snapping back. Having opinions. Being a general pain in my ass.”
At least it shocks her into facing me.
Even if she looks startled, her bottom lip quivering and her eyes shining, wide-eyed. “You like when I’m a pain in your ass?” Her brows knit together. “That sounds unhealthy.”
“Yeah, well, I’m fucked up. Aren’t you the one who loves to point that out—that I’m fucking nuts?” I counter. “I like that more than whatever the fuck this is.”
Her chin juts out when she’s trying to be brave. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You were fine, and then you weren’t. One minute, you’re laughing with the girls. Then you just—” I snap my fingers in front of her face. “Disappeared. All the light in you. Gone, just like that.”
Her head drops to stare at her lap. “I’m right here.”
“The fuck you are.” I turn my head, unable to stand the sight of her cowed all over again. I stare out the window, scowling.
Then, “Otto. Take us through Back Bay. The long way.”
“Yes, sir,” Otto says, and smoothly switches lanes.
“Wh—” Janella starts, and I can feel her eyes on me. I don’t look back. “Where are we going?”
I say nothing. Maybe I’ll feign sleeping, too.
My plan is shot to shit when she pleads, all choked up, “Iosif?”
She sounds so fucking miserable.
Involuntarily, my body turns back to her. I’m being an asshole, and I know it. Fuck.
“I’m not taking you back to the penthouse to hide in your room. Not until you tell me what the hell happened,” I say.
“You can’t just—”
I glare at her. “It would blow your goddamn mind the things I can do, doll.”
Janella looks winded, then stricken. I let her grapple with it, unflinching. Unwilling to budge. I’ve made her my responsibility, whether either of us likes it right now or not.
I’m ready to prod her again when she finally gives in.
She talks so quietly, I almost miss it.
“It was too much for me, okay?”
My body angles toward her on its own.
“What was?”
“All of it,” she says, looking down at her hands. “With your family? They’re a real family. All of you are. The way you are with each other. I—”
She curls in on herself with every word until she looks like a touch might shatter her.
“You?” I push.
“I never thought… I never knew families could be like that, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” The words burst out of her.
“It was—You were all loud and messy and… just adore each other. It’s all over the place.
Everyone talks over each other and talks constantly, but listens, too. Listens and means it.”
“And that’s… not good?” I try to catch up.
Her eyes meet mine. “I’ve spent twenty-four years seeing family one way.
Living my life by a belief system. I have been good.
And in my head, to be good and quiet and careful has always meant the possibility of quiet in return.
If you are careful, you don’t set off the minefield.
” The tears that have been shining in her eyes spill now, rolling in twin streams down her cheeks.
“And tonight you showed me a room full of people who would take a bullet for each other. I know what my circumstances are. What my—what my life has been. I know it. But I have never been stupid enough to want something I can never have before. I have never felt so alone or broken.”
The shrapnel of her words sinks into my skin.
“Why?” I ask, as gentle as I can be. “You are a part of it now. You’re a Yuri, Janella.”
It isn’t enough. She lets out a sound that is as much a laugh as a sob. It makes something deep within me ache for her. Precious, wounded girl.
“I’m not!” she insists, the words sounding pleading again.
“I’m not, Iosif. I’m—borrowed. Bought and paid for.
Temporary. You may have given me your name to give me a different door…
but you don’t want a wife. Your family was wonderful to me.
Because they love you. But no one loves me. I belong nowhere. I belong to no one.”
“That’s bullshit,” I bite out.
Janella’s lips curl into a weary, pitying smile. Again, she shakes her head. “It’s just reality,” she sighs, her shoulders hunching in a weak shrug. “I just need a minute to acclimate. I know you think I’m weak, but it helps me that I’m good at that.”
Fuck. That.
“Pull over,” I bark at Otto, furious.
Otto squeaks, “Sir?”
“I said pull the fuck over. Now.”
The man has the good sense to comply. The SUV slides to a standstill by the curb of an idling street. I bolt out of my seat and round the car, ripping her door open. I yank her out of the car before she can protest.
“Iosif!” she shrieks.
It’s hard to take her ire seriously when she’s shivering. She could just be shaking, overwhelmed. But the thought of her being cold inexplicably bugs me.
I set her on her feet, pulling off my coat and throwing it around her shoulders. My anger is going to keep me warm. I can feel it.
“We’re getting ice cream,” I announce.
She balks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
I’m getting used to that look, actually.
“We just had dinner!” she argues.
“Which you stopped eating halfway through. You were mostly pushing food around your plate,” I retort, swiping the tears from her face one cheek at a time, and sizing her up with a stern look. “You need a pick-me-up. There’s a place around the corner that Nadya loves. Fucking humor me.”
For a second, I’m certain she’s about to refuse. Or worse, burst into tears again.
Instead, she says, “Fine. But I’m not cold. You can have your coat back.”
I roll my eyes and throw an arm around her shoulders, dragging her into my side—lest she make a run for it. “You’re about to have ice cream in the middle of a Bostonian winter, doll. If you’re not freezing your tits off yet, you will be.”
I grin when I see her rolling her eyes back at me. I swear I hear her mumble, “Nuts.”
“Go home, Otto,” I toss over my shoulder. “We’ll walk back.”
Automatically, she chirps in addition, “Thank you very much!”
***
I take my time studying her while she studies the flavors, her nose almost pressed against the glass case.
“What the hell is ‘Lavender Honey Cardamom’?” she questions, dubious.
“Foo-foo shit.”
She wrinkles her nose at me. Adorably.
“How about ‘Black Sesame Miso’?” she asks. Her eyes are gleaming again—but this time it’s with amusement, not unshed tears. It suits her.
“Are you fucking with me, Janella Yuri?” I arch a brow, daring her.
The corners of her full lips twitch. “Uh-huh.”
Before I can reply, I catch the teenager behind the counter mooning over her. He may as well have hearts in his eyes.
“Would you just pick something before that nerd drools all over your tits in that dress?” I order, smacking her hip in playful admonition.
Her face turns a predictable, albeit pretty, pink. “Crass,” she admonishes back. But she does turn back to the counter.
“Could I please try the—” She peers down, squinting at the labels. “—the ‘bourbon pecan’? Please?”
The fumbling fucker hands her a sample. Her eyes roll back in ecstasy.
“Good God,” she moans. “Yep. This one! I’ll take this one.”
One and done. Gotta like that.
“Cone or cup?” the nerd asks hoarsely.
I get it.
“Cone.”
“What about—” Janella starts to ask.
“I’ll have the same. In a cup.”
We get the ice cream and head back into the night. Janella is already back to making sounds that should be fucking illegal.
I dig into my own cup.
“That is good,” I admit, guiding her down the street.
It’s safe to say she’s too lost in her ice cream for me to worry about her making a run for it. No matter the laundry list of reasons she’s got to do it.
Unfortunately, she’s not too lost in it to not catch me watching her.
“What?” she asks, self-consciously licking her lips.
“I was thinking about what you said before,” I tell her truthfully. “That you know, I think you’re weak.”
“You’ve implied as much.”
I frown her way. That grates at me, mostly because of how blasé she is about it, as if insults are commonplace to her. “Didn’t we already discuss your propensity for seeing the world in black and white? It lacks perspective.”
“That’s condescending,” she says.
“But not untrue,” I point out. “You spent an evening with my family. And you’re right, they’re fucking great. But if you took off the rose-colored glasses for a second, it isn’t perfect. We fight. We all fuck up and get pissed at each other. You saw my siblings. See any parents anywhere?”
She’s quiet. But I see her shaking her head.
“We’re solid. A part of that is because we’ve had to be.
You asked me if I’ve ever killed someone.
I have. But people try to kill me all the time, too.
And everyone I love. That’s part of this life.
And I’ve acclimated, too. Sure. This is what I’ve always known.
But that doesn’t mean it’s ever going to be fucking easy.
It never is. Any time one of us gets hurt, which is often. ”
Janella stops walking. I halt, too, turning to face her. Her eyes look like liquid gold beneath the city lights.