Page 27 of Unbroken

I need to come here more often. It’s so fucking good to be near family again. Even if it’s found family, I’m welcome here.

There’s always something happening, someone to talk to, someone to cry to.

I open my phone.

"I need to go see my mom," I tell Rodion, and his eyes cloud over.

"Did you run that by Rafail and Vadka first?"

I give him a noncommittal shrug.

I feel a little guilty because I'm not exactly trying to go against anything he told me, but I also know that if I call him right now, he's absolutely gonna tell me not to go see my mom. She needs me, though, and that matters.

I told him that I was bringing Luka here so that he could be safe, and Semyon said something about there being potential retaliation. If Rafail or Vadka tells me to come back, I will. But I'm worried about my mother. If I don't go see her, they could… A lump forms in my throat again. I am so overdue for a good cry. I think it’ll do me some good.

I bring Luka inside the house, and then I head to Mom's before anyone can stop me. What ifshe’sin danger?

I hate going to visit my mother. It takes energy I feel like I don't have, and then I hate myself for hating going. Who hates visiting their mother? She gave me birth. Life. I wouldn't be here without her—but here I am, wishing I could be anywhere except the place that smells like urine and desperation. I hate it so fucking much.

I park the car when my phone rings.

Vadka. Guiltily, I answer.

"Look, I brought Luka to the house. Semyon told me what's going on. I won’t be long.”

Maybe he'll listen. Maybe we can be reasonable. Maybe we can discuss this like reasonable adults.

Maybe not.

"Glad you took care of my son," Vadka says, and I swear I can hear him speaking through clenched teeth, even from here.

"This is not the time to be going to your mother's, Ruthie! Are you out of your mind?"

"Listen, all I know is that there's potential blowback. But you guys have been fighting the Irish for how long? Years?"

"It isn't like that," he says tightly. "You're in danger. I don't even want you to go back to work."

I straighten my spine.

"But you can't control that. That's up to me. You were married to my sister, not me, remember?"

Why does that make my heart ache? I can't speak for a minute.

"You don't have the right to tell me where I can go or who I can talk to—none of it, Vadka. You don't have that right."

"I promised your sister I would take care of you."

I stop. "Well, that's news to me. And when did you do that? You didn't know she was dying. It's not like you had some kind of deathbed conversation."

Okay, now that felt like a dick thing to say.

"When your mother was institutionalized, Ruth."

Ruth. Not Ruthie. He only calls me that when he's getting all big-brotherly and angry with me.

"I promised her that no matter what, I would take care of you. Who do you think paid that outstanding doctor bill when you wrecked your wrist?” His voice is like a blade, cutting through my defenses. “Who do you think made sure your eviction notice disappeared before you ever saw it? Who handled the cops when you got picked up for that damn bar brawl and kept your record clean?”

Each word slams into me. I can’t reply.

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