23. Lucia
23
LUCIA
ONE HOUR EARLIER
T he spray from the shower falls hot against my reddened flesh, steaming the tiny bathroom. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, but long enough to know it isn’t good for my skin. Or my hair.
I should get out. I should pull myself together. Get some sleep , finally, if possible.
I wonder when my next restful night will come. The truth is, since Luka kissed me goodbye, I haven’t felt safe. He left me with a few thousand dollars in cash, a prepaid phone, and an assurance that I could trust his best friend.
It’s more than I could ask for and still not good enough. But I smiled after he kissed me, and I waved to him from the hotel window while he pulled away, feeling my heart shrink as the distance between us grew.
I didn’t tell him I loved him. Not with words, and I think that’s my biggest regret. I had too much fear that it would make him stay, that it would be a manipulation somehow. If I’m honest, I was afraid he wouldn’t say it back.
Now, I wish I had. It feels like he should know.
I shut off the shower and wipe the water from my face. For minutes, I just stand, letting the humid air chill my skin. Finally, I open the shower curtain and grab a towel. I’m drying myself off when I hear the knock on the front door.
Arseni .
The hairs on the back of my neck raise.
My mind whirls back to our last encounter, the angry, desperate punch that shattered his window before I peeled away. He must despise me as much as I despise him.
I quickly dry my hair with the towel then wrap it around my body before going into the room. Another knock sounds on the door.
“Just a minute.”
I glance at the clock on the dresser. It’s five in the morning. I wonder if he’s been driving all night and will want to sleep before we leave. I hope he doesn’t mind the floor because there is absolutely no way I’m giving him the bed. In fact, he’s lucky there isn’t a radiator in here. Otherwise, I might insist he use it as a pillow.
After grabbing a clean pair of shorts Luka and I picked up before he left, I pull them on along with a T-shirt and head to the door, blotting my hair with the towel as I walk.
Pausing, I take a deep breath, bracing myself.
I forgave Luka. I can forgive his friend too.
I swing open the door, ready to face my demon, but when I come face to face with brown eyes I’ve looked into dozens of times, I’m struck cold. My veins feel as though they ice over as the scar on Mario’s cheek shifts with his sneer.
When he speaks, he does so in English, and I wonder if he’s been practicing for this moment. Just to mock me.
“ Finally .”