17. Tamara
TAMARA
“I made pancakes for breakfast.”
Finn greets me in the kitchen wearing gray sweatpants, his chest bare, his Celtic tattoos on full show.
I drag my eyes away from them to his dimples as he serves pancakes onto two plates and tops them with crispy fried bacon.
The maple syrup is already on the counter between the same two seats we sat at the last time I was here, and he forgot to tell me that ‘tattie’ was the shortened version of potatoes.
“You like pancakes, right?” He scrunches his face, his smile fading.
“Yes.” I sit down and inhale the sweet aroma combined with the smoky bacon. “You don’t have to feed me.”
Finn sits across from me and drizzles maple syrup across his plate. “One thing you should know about me, sweetheart, I don’t do anything because I have to. I’m hungry, so I made breakfast. What kind of asshole would I be if I didn’t make breakfast for you too?”
I smile and keep my eyes on my plate.
He’s trying hard to make me feel comfortable here, knowing that I can’t go back to Leonid’s home, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like a squatter.
I turned up at his front door without any possessions or weapons or any clue what I would do with my life after today, and he welcomed me with open arms and fucked me until he fell asleep face down on his bed at around 4 a.m. He wants me to stay with him.
He expects me to stay with him because, in his world, I guess it would be the natural next step when two people like each other.
But I can’t.
It would be easy to sleep in his arms at night and wake up to breakfast with a smile. But it wouldn’t resolve the situation between me and Leonid.
Neither will it bring Ivana back.
I fork a light, fluffy pancake into my mouth and chew it slowly, fighting the nausea threatening to bring it back up before it has even gone down.
“Everything okay?” His eyes hold mine like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“I’m fine.” I swallow hard and try not to gag. “Can I get some coffee?” I need caffeine because I’m shaking like I’m having major withdrawal symptoms.
“Sure, help yourself.” He gestures to the coffee machine on the counter behind him, and it eases the tension in my shoulders just a little because it’s the realest thing he has said to me since we met.
I kiss his cheek as I walk past him. “Thank you.” I fill two mugs with the steaming liquid and carry them back to the breakfast bar.
“For what?” Frown lines appear between his eyebrows.
“For not treating me like I’m useless.”
He shakes his head. “Sweetheart, you are the furthest thing from useless you could possibly get. Is that how Leonid makes you feel?” He forks bacon and pancake into his mouth and watches me closely while he chews.
“No.”
He nods. “Are you going to tell me why you showed up without any weapons?”
I sip my coffee and wait for the caffeine to hit my veins. It’s taking too long, and my stomach is starting to churn. “No.”
“Okay, I won’t push it, but I’ll hazard a guess that he’s worried what you’ll do with them after what happened with the Petrovs.”
My throat constricts. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but all I can think about is the nausea swirling around inside my gut and the mouthful of black coffee that won’t go down.
“That isn’t it.” I barely register my own voice as bile burns my throat.
I stumble off the stool and run to the ensuite bathroom in Finn’s room, making it to the toilet as the nausea takes over. My body heaves as my stomach empties into the bowl, and shudders travel down my spine raising goose bumps all over my skin.
I don’t hear Finn enter the bathroom. I don’t hear him turn on the cold tap in the basin and soak a face cloth.
He kneels beside me on the cold floor tiles, smooths my hair away from my face, and places the wet cloth on my forehead. “I’m right here, sweetheart.”
I don’t know what makes me do it, but I crawl onto his lap and curl up against his chest, while he holds the wet cloth in place. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I don’t have the energy to stop them.
And he holds me tightly, just letting me be until I stop shaking and feel strong enough to sit up.
“Do you need to see a doctor?” His eyes are filled with concern, and more tears threaten to spill.
“No, I’m fine.”
He studies me like he’s the doctor trying to diagnose me. “You’re shivering. Let’s get you back into bed.”
“No, I don’t need to sleep.” I push him away and try to stand up, my legs wobbling in the process. I lean against the wall and wait for it to pass.
“I’m starting to think you just don’t like my cooking.” He stands up and gives me a lopsided smile.
My head feels woozy, but now that I’ve been sick, I’m ravenous. “It isn’t your cooking.” I rinse my mouth out under the cold tap and face him with a smile. “I’m better now.”
He tilts his head and quirks one eyebrow at me. “I’m not convinced. When was the last time you ate?”
“Yesterday.” I don’t tell him that it’s twenty-four hours since I ate some fruit at Leonid’s house and then brought it all up. I don’t want him fussing over me. “Can we go back to the kitchen? I’m starving.”
I resume my seat at the breakfast counter and eat slowly, letting each mouthful go down before I start the next, while Finn pretends not to watch me and fails epically. When my plate is empty, I cast my eyes around the kitchen for more food and spot the bread bin and the toaster.
I collect our empty plates and add two slices of thick sliced white bread to the toaster. Then I go to the fridge and find the butter and a jar of marmalade which I take back to the counter and spread thickly on the toast when it pops up.
Placing one plate in front of Finn, I sit down and devour my slice of toast before he has even touched his, and lick marmalade from my fingers.
“You weren’t kidding.” He watches me with a curious expression as if I’m a playful puppy wondering what mischief to get up to next. “You were hungry.”
I eye up his untouched marmalade toast. “Are you going to eat that?”
He smiles and pushes his plate across the counter towards me. “You eat it.”
I do so and wash it down with the rest of my coffee. Then I sit back and finally look at Finn, who is still watching me closely like he might need to carry me back to the bathroom when my body realizes how much I just ate.
“Better?” he asks, and I smile.
“I feel fine. I was just hungry.”
I can tell that he doesn’t buy it but doesn’t want to push it either.
“What are your plans for today?”
“I’m going to look for Ivana.”
I haven’t left Leonid’s house in almost three weeks, and each time I’ve asked him for information on my sister, he simply told me that he’s still trying to track her down.
I’ve no idea how or where or who is helping him, but I stopped believing his story that she doesn’t want to be found a while ago, and now I’m taking matters back into my own hands.
I’ve left it too long already. If something bad has happened to her, I will never forgive Leonid for lying to me.
“The white-blonde hair was a disguise. It was Ivana all along.”
Finn’s expression doesn’t falter, but I sense the tightness in his shoulders before he tries to hide it by rotating them backwards. “You have proof?”
“No, but my gut knows it was her. She saved me twice, and I think she was involved in the warehouse incident.”
“I’ll call Aiden, tell him that I’m going to look for your sister today. I’m owed more annual leave than I can—”
“No! You can’t tell him.” I climb down from the stool too quickly and wait for the stars to stop spinning in front of my eyes.
Finn is on his feet and reaching for my arms like he can see the room swaying out from under me, and I move away. “You don’t have to worry about Aiden. He’ll under—”
“I don’t want Leonid to know where I am.”
“You mean you don’t want him to know that you’re with me.” Hurt flickers behind his eyes, but I don’t hold back.
“I’m not with you, Finn. I came here because I had nowhere else to go and because…”
I can’t be responsible for his feelings too, which is why I’ve never lied to him. That, and the fact that I don’t know how I feel about him, and I don’t want to give him false hope that it might eventually develop into something bigger than either of us ever envisaged.
“…because I know you’ll help me find Ivana.”
He’s quiet for what feels like an eternity. Then, “I won’t tell him if that’s what you want.”
“Thank you.” I offer him a small smile that isn’t anywhere near enough to smooth out the creases between his brows but is all I’ve got right now.
“There’s something you should know though.” He doesn’t come any closer, and I hate that I’ve put this distance between us. “The woman you think is Ivana hasn’t been seen since the night the warehouse blew up.”
Finn gives me a small pistol and a dagger to carry, and we take his motorcycle to every storage unit, warehouse, and industrial estate in the city of Chicago that we can cram into one day. Riding pillion gives me an opportunity to be close to him without wondering what he wants from this.
What he wants from me.
I know he hasn’t asked for anything, but when we’re together, he speaks about love and forever and uses his Irish Gaelic words like we have a future together, when he can’t possibly know that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me.
He barely knows me. And he’s forgetting that I’ll never leave Ivana behind.
No matter what.
But with my cheek pressed against the back of his leather jacket, and my arms around his waist, I can give into the longing in my core that isn’t only about sex.
Even if being fucked by him is the most amazing feeling in the world.
There’s something about Finn that makes me wish I had a piece of my heart to give him, a piece of my heart that wasn’t destroyed by the men in black who bought us from the orphanage and didn’t care if we survived the ocean crossing or not.
Perhaps it will heal someday.
Because if it doesn’t, there can be no future for me and Finn.