25. Blair
Blair
T he buzzing in my ears drowns out Andrei’s gentle breaths long after he falls asleep. I’m not sure that he’s ever fallen asleep before me, but right now, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to sleep again.
The first rays of light break through the curtains, allowing me to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. His features are softened with sleep, relaxed when he’s typically on guard, constantly taking stock of his surroundings and observing everything going on around him.
When he’s like this, it’s easier to think that he might have been telling the truth, not just blurting out whatever nonsense the post-orgasm endorphins were feeding him.
When he’s relaxed, he doesn’t seem like the same inscrutable figure who upended my life and turned everything upside down to the point that it’s unrecognizable.
In hindsight, I’m able to admit none of what he’s done has made my life worse .
If anything, him kidnapping me and tearing me away from my boring life probably saved me from spending all my time being miserable, alone, and stuck in a job that stressed me out to the point of having panic attacks.
Even before I got roped into this mess, I was doing a great job of isolating myself and pushing away the few friends I had, and none of those people reached out after I left them behind with little to no warning.
Sure, initially, he pulled me away from everything and everyone I’d ever known and plunged me into the deep end, surrounded by dangerous men with no tools to defend myself, but he’s also been the greatest defense I could ask for.
When Andrei’s around, I don’t have to worry about anyone kicking down the front door and taking me away from my son.
He goes out of his way to make sure we’re safe and comfortable.
He’s even helped me make a friend, so I’m not nearly as isolated as I was when I first moved to Chicago.
I have people who I can talk to about my life and worries for the first time since… Since ever, probably.
I’m not jumping at shadows and waiting for the next threat to attack me anymore. I know I can rely on Andrei to look after us, and despite my head screaming at me, I know that I can trust him not to go out of his way to hurt me.
Even if having me by his side hurts his standing with Maksim, he won’t turn his back on me. That’s just not the type of man he is.
He said he loves me.
This man, who I’ve spent so long thinking hated me, loves me. Has loved me. For years, if he’s to be believed, and when I think about everything he’s done for me and Niko these past few weeks, I start to believe he’s telling the truth. With every fiber of my being, I believe him.
I’ve spent most of the night trying to figure out what he has to gain from lying, but I can’t find anything.
Telling me he loves me doesn’t cover up anything, it doesn’t gain him any advantage, and he isn’t protecting himself. He’s only making himself vulnerable.
Andrei, a man who has never had a moment of weakness in all the time I’ve known him, made himself vulnerable. To me .
Whether he knows it or not, he’s given me leverage, something I’ve never had in our relationship up to now.
Do I even want to use it? I mean, I still occasionally have nightmares about him pressing a gun to my side and forcing me into a car, and when his face is the first thing I see when I wake up, it takes a moment for me to remember where I am, much less that I’ve asked him to be here.
I’ve spent years keeping my head down and letting people hurt me so I can stay safe, and I’m not sure if I’m even capable of opening myself up to that kind of pain again.
Putting my heart on the line for Daniil nearly broke me, and only now that he’s gone am I able to see the full scope of what our relationship took from me.
What if all I’m capable of is hurting Andrei? Maybe I’m too damaged to ever accept his feelings or find it in myself to return them.
It’s safer to push him away.
Everything swirls around my head like an unceasing echo, making it impossible to sleep. Still, none of it is dimming the small spark of hope that’s taking up residence in my chest, warming me from the inside out.
Andrei Voronov isn’t a good man, and I’m under no illusions about it. He’s been violent and brutal, and he won’t hesitate to do it again if it serves him to.
But when he’s home with me, he’s patient and kind.
I’m never worried that he’s going to snap at Niko, because he always takes his time with him and answers his endless questions to the best of his ability.
He makes sure to check in with us, even on the days when he spends most of his time out of the house.
He comes home with busted knuckles, there’s blood staining his clothes, and he carries a gun with him everywhere he goes.
But he could be mine, if I let him.
I smile as I watch him, his hand resting on his chest as it rises and falls.
I fall asleep between one blink and the next, waking up to find the bed beside me empty and cool to the touch. Niko’s laughter, clear as a bell, floats up from the kitchen, followed by the low rumble of Andrei’s chuckle. It settles the worry that always comes from waking up alone.
I make quick work of getting ready for the day and wander downstairs, pausing in the doorway to watch the two of them.
They’re sitting side by side at the island, playing with a set of plastic cookie cutters.
Niko’s arms are flailing around as he shows off what I think is an airplane while Andrei’s pretending to evade him with one I think looks like a rose, but I can’t really tell.
Their backs are to me, but I can still hear the smile in Niko’s voice as he talks, oblivious to my presence .
They have such an easy rapport that I’m almost jealous watching them. I can’t tell if I’m envious of Niko for how easily he’s accepted Andrei into his life, or of Andrei for how effortlessly he’s been able to gain Niko’s affection. Before I can decide, Andrei peeks over his shoulder and sees me.
He grins, warm and without hesitation, as if he doesn’t realize I’m spiraling from his confession.
“Morning.” He nods, nudging his shoulder against Niko’s. My son’s head whips around, cheeks round with his own grin. He wobbles in his stool, but Andrei’s hand is firm on his back, helping him keep his balance.
“Good morning, Mama!” Niko drops the cookie cutter and braces his hand on Andrei’s arm as he climbs down, rushing over to give me a hug. I kneel down, opening my arms as I wait for him. “Can we make cookies? Andrei and me found the cookie shapes!”
“You did, huh?” I look over the top of his head, and Andrei shrugs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
“Are you sure Andrei has something to do with you finding them? It wasn’t just you?
” I poke his ribs, and he giggles, wiggling away while he keeps a grip on my hand, pulling me further into the kitchen.
“He wanted to use them to make toast, but I wasn’t sure if that’d damage them or not,” Andrei says as he watches us.
“Andrei said we had to ask first.” Niko pouts as he grabs the step stool he uses when he helps in the kitchen, stretching to reach for the upper cabinet where I keep my recipe books.
I shake my head as I watch him, his hand not even close to reaching the handle. He stands on his toes, eyeing the counter like he thinks he’ll get away with climbing up .
“Well, for the record, I don’t think toast would damage my cookie cutters,” I say, keeping an eye on him as I take a quick glance at Andrei.
His arms are crossed as he leans on the counter, hair still damp from a shower.
He’s dressed in a faded black T-shirt and worn jeans that hug his thighs so well I’m almost jealous.
“Good to know,” he murmurs, looking perfectly at home, as if keeping a toddler entertained and quiet is as natural as breathing. He looks like he belongs here. He looks like a dad.
I have to swallow the sudden lump in my throat.
It’s a good thing they get along. Deep down, I know that.
So why is seeing Andrei like this suddenly putting all thoughts to a halt?
“Careful, buddy.” His voice startles me out of my fugue, and I look back at Niko to find him teetering dangerously on his stool. I quickly put a hand on his shoulder to stabilize him, and he settles back onto his feet, huffing with frustration.
“You know, if we make cookies now, you won’t be able to eat them until after lunch.”
Niko looks at me like I’ve grown a second head, and it’s all I can do to hold back a laugh.
“But if we wait that long, they’ll get cold!” His tone is miserable, which I understand.
Is there anything worse in this world than cold cookies?
He looks at Andrei, who chuckles as Niko stomps off the stool, leveling him with his fiercest glare.
“It’s not funny!”
Andrei schools his face into a serious mask, but the corners of his mouth are still twitching with restrained laughter. “You’re right. It’s not funny at all,” he answers, sounding just as serious as my ridiculous son. “I guess we have no choice but to wait until after lunch to make cookies, do we?”
With a dramatic huff, Niko nods. “Cookies later, then,” he announces with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looks ready to negotiate world peace as he puts his hands on his hips. “Can we play outside until lunch?”
Andrei doesn’t hesitate to nod. He looks like he wants to hand the keys to the castle over to the boy who’s looking at him like his word is law.
“Sure thing.” He glances at me while he gathers the cookie cutters scattered across the counter. “If you’re alright with it, I can go play with him. You can have some time to yourself.”
Man, that sounds like exactly what I need.
I nod my permission and he squeezes my hand as he passes me, dutifully tidying the mess and herding Niko toward the door, urging him to put on a jacket.
Just before he darts out the front door, Niko runs back to me and hugs my legs.
“Bye, Mama! Love you!”