Chapter 61
One month later…
Vadim
I've only ever been so sick that I was bed- or couch-ridden twice in my life.
Once in junior high when I came down with a really bad case of the flu and was sidelined for a whole week, and the other time was a few years ago when I got a bad case of COVID, and it kicked my ass.
I can now add a third occasion to that list. Getting poisoned.
From the moment he came back from the hospital with me, Preston has been a constant by my side, not leaving me once. He ran me two baths a day, without me asking, and would perch himself on the stool and sit with me. We'd talk like we used to do when he was back in San Jose with his folks.
After the first week, when the worst of the muscle soreness had passed, he started daily massages. Light at first, his hands working through the knots the strychnine had left behind, learning where the worst of them were and returning to them session after session until they finally gave way.
He's very talented with his hands and great at what he does. I've always known that. But now I've experienced it as much as I have lately, I know it even more.
By the third week, I was moving without wincing and sleeping through the night without the muscle spasms that had plagued me the first fortnight.
The muscle pain had settled from acute to manageable, and my energy was returning in increments.
I was able to first work for an hour at my desk, then two, then do a full morning's worth of work.
While I was recovering, Preston started braille lessons.
I arranged for a private instructor to come to the apartment three times a week.
In what was a not-so-small victory, Preston didn't fight me on it.
I could see that he wanted to, but he tamed his defensive urges and independent streak and just said thank you and hugged me.
I'd watch him during his lessons sometimes, his fingers moving across the practice sheets with focus and determination. I can't even begin to imagine what it might be like to lose my sight. I'm filled with nothing but awe for him.
Not pity awe.
Not inspiration-porn awe.
Just this deep, genuine understanding that he is so much stronger and braver than even he realizes he is.
It amazes me. It inspires me to be a better person. And it makes me grateful every single day that a closed-off, emotionless bastard like me hit the freaking relationship jackpot and wound up with someone as amazing as Preston Gertrude Miller.
I used to live a version of my life where I never let anyone get close enough to matter. I'd managed to convince myself I was comfortable with that. It was clean, uncomplicated, entirely under my control. Then Preston accosted me outside a men's room, and I have no interest in that life anymore.
Not even a little bit.
What I have now, this imperfect, complicated, terrifying thing, is the only version of life I want to live.
Even as it means Preston’s going to lose his sight.
We're going to face that together. And when I sit with that impending, terrifying reality; honestly, there's nowhere else I would rather be.
Now, a month after the poisoning, I'm myself again.
Or close enough.
The worst is definitely behind me, and my body has stopped reminding me of what happened every time I move. These past four weeks have given me a greater understanding of Preston's reluctance to lean on others.
Toward the end, I was starting to feel like a burden and would get angry when I needed help with things I'd never even considered asking for help with. But I've learned that that's part of the give and take of a relationship. It was my turn to take, and soon enough, it will be my turn to give back.
I've leaned into the role reversal of him looking after me partly for that reason.
The reality is he will need a lot of help, especially in the first weeks and months after his vision goes completely.
I want him to feel comfortable with it, to know what it feels like to accept care, for it to feel like a natural to and fro between us, and not that he's a burden or some problem I have to handle.
We're lying on the couch on a Tuesday evening. Well, I'm sitting, and Preston's lying down, his head resting on my lap, some television chef loudly enthusiastic about something I have no interest in.
This is another thing I love about living together. Little, seemingly insignificant moments like him watching his shows or having him beside me as I watch a soccer match. They're somehow better just by us being together.
Thankfully, Ellie wasn't too much of a dick when Preston broke the news to him he'd be moving in with me. In fact, he's been surprisingly cool with it all.
For a moment, I even thought he smiled at me genuinely on the day we moved Preston's stuff into my place, but I was mistaken. He was smiling at Marek who was standing behind me. He'd stopped by to personally deliver some papers to me that totally could have waited until Monday.
That was strange.
About as strange as him lingering and hanging out with Ellie after handing over said papers.
My phone vibrates on the cushion beside me, yanking me out of my thoughts.
I look at the message.
Then I look at Preston.
He's totally engrossed in the pulled sugar showcase thing the chef is yammering on about.
The text is from one of my guys.
Farkas. A confirmed location. Tonight.
I gently ease Preston off my lap and sit up.
He fumbles around for the remote on the coffee table and mutes the volume. "What's up?"
"They've located Farkas."
Preston sits up, his hand finding mine. "Oh."
"I'll stay if you want me to."
I mean it. I would. I'd hate it, but I'd do it if that's what he wants.
"No. Go." His face fills with worry as he says it, the color draining from his cheeks. His throat works overtime as he tries to swallow it down and push past it. "You have to do this."
"Are you sure?"
"I am. I don't like it, but I understand that…" He releases a deep breath. "You have business to finish."
My shoulders loosen a little.
I'm glad he's on board. More than glad, actually. He doesn't just understand that this is part of my life, part of who I am, he accepts it.
"Thank you." I press a kiss to his lips then one to his forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Do you need anything?"
"Only for you to be safe, Vadim. Don't do anything too crazy, okay? I need you to come back to me."
"I will, mój kochany. I will."
With one last urgent kiss to his lips, I rise from the couch in one motion, the soreness of the last four weeks burning off instantly, replaced by something electric.
It's finally here, the moment I've waited for for months. The first legitimate lead since W?adek was exposed.
I'm not going to blow it. Farkas is about to get what he deserves.
I race through the apartment and into the bedroom. Changing quickly, I pull on a black shirt, jacket, and pants. I grab the SIG, checked and holstered.
By the time I'm at the door, Preston is already there, his concern even more visible. I really hope he's not having second thoughts.
His hand lands on my shoulder.
"Be safe," he repeats.
"I will," I reply.
I always am. But now that I've got Preston, I've got something worth coming back for.
And then I'm out the front door, taking off into the night.
This thing with Farkas, it ends right fucking now.