Page 144 of Unrequited
“I used to swim too,” I tell him. “Back home. There was a lake near our summer house. I’d sneak out before dawn. Dive in while the world was still asleep.”
“Of course you did,” he says, teasing. “Little brat.”
I laugh. “Like your father, Rafail wasn’t too happy when he found out.”
His expression softens. And for a moment, there’s something in his eyes I can’t name.
“I loved it,” I whisper. “Being under the water. Quiet. Moving without thought. It felt free. Like I could be anyone. I used to pretend I was a mermaid.”
“Do you still swim?” he asks.
I nod. “Not like I did when I was younger, but I can.”
He looks out at the water like it’s whispering something to him that I can’t hear.
“I reached out to my family again,” I say softly. “They haven’t responded.”
I see his shouldersstiffen.
“Not even Rodion,” I add. “Not one word.”
“They think you're here against your will, love,” he tells me softly.
I look at him, my chest tightening. “Why doesn't anybody ever believe me?” I whisper. “It's frustrating… being the youngest.”
He sighs. “It’s frustrating being the oldest.”
I glance away, and his voice follows. “Because you're the peacekeeper, Zoya,” he says gently. Then even softer, “They think you're still the good girl, trying to make things right.”
“God, I know, but I’m not, and I can’t.” I swallow. “Just now, I was frustrated with myself for not being pregnant. Can you even imagine that?” I shake my head. “Being mad at yourself for something like that. Like children are puzzle pieces to fill a void.”
“They’re not,” he murmurs. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
I swallow and lean back against him. The silence settles over us while he sips his drink, and I take a pass. He slips an arm around me, and when I shiver, he says nothing, just shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over me. It’s warm and smells like him.
“I just wish they would all understand. Listen.”
“It’s more complicated than that, isn’t it, love?” he says. “Way more complicated. I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle of all this. But I’m not sorry I married you. Goddammit, I’m not.”
I turn and meet his gaze. His blue eyes burn, cheeks flushed with heat and heartbreak.
“I’m not either,” I tell him honestly.
He cups my cheek in his palm. “You’re my good girl,” he says. “And nobody’s going to take that away. Do you understand me?”
I nod, my throat tight.
“Listen to me, lass. No matter what happens, no matter what, you need to trust me. You need to know that I love you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say, my breath catching. “Yes, I do.”
I reach for him. “And I love you, Seamus. Please… tell me what happens next.”
“I wish I could,” he whispers.
“Would you hurt me?” I ask quietly.
He hesitates. “I’m afraid even the rocks have eyes and ears now that Branson's here. He’s going to try to kill me, you know.”
