Page 69 of Ruined Vows
“Sometimes,” Vukan says, “people take things that aren’t theirs because they’re scared. Doesn’t make it right. But if you stay calm and kind, they don’t win. It might not happen today, but eventually, they will lose.”
The boy nods, as if Vukan has just given him a cheat code to life. And Vukan gently pats his shoulder. “Go ask him again. But this time, offer to share, or take a toy to trade.”
The kid darts off, picks up a toy, and returns to the other child, and they negotiate.
I stare at him.Who is he? The child whisperer?
“You’re terrifyingly competent at this.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t have this growing up. I figured if I can’t fix the past, maybe I can at least show up for someone else’s. And put a better spin on it. Maybe all these moments will add up to something and change their future for the better.”
He pauses, and his words resonate with me. He’s been through something—trauma, sadness, and loss.
“Besides, I sleep better knowing my tiny acts of kindness will pave my way to hell,” he says.
I open my mouth. Then close it. Damn, that’s prolific. “You never talk about your childhood.”
“Nothing to tell,” he says. “Just shit and grit.”
And then, softer—softest than I’ve ever heard him, he says, “I saw kids die in Kosovo. Too many. I couldn’t save them. I wasn’t strong enough, or old enough, to make a difference. I was just a boy with a broken heart, a dark world, and a monster for a father. But here—” He looks around. “Here, I can do something.”
He didn’t say that for sympathy. He said it because it’strue.And he’s sharing a part of his past with me.
I glance at the kids, now laughing again like nothing bad has ever happened to them. They’re brave and resilient.
He invested, and his actions were sincere.
I’m touched. There are no words to describe how deeply he’s moved me.
He doesn’t owe these kids anything. And because of that, I know he’s not performing. He’s just…here, and present for them.
“Thank you,” I whisper as his eyes cut to mine, and I blink to hold back tears. Tears for the kids, and tears for Vukan, who had a childhood that was much worse than mine. And mostly, tears over the fact that he’s so deep.
His eyes are sharp, honest, and uncomfortably vulnerable.
“Don’t thank me,” he says. “This lets me see this part of you. The one who fights for them. That’s the version of you I don’t want to forget.” He looks purposefully into my eyes.
I blink in quick succession before I look away. I can’t let him see me melt. I’m stunned. Damn, he’s so good. As if he knows I’m uncomfortable by his admission, he walks back toward the kids like he belongs there.
I stand in the doorway, pretending I didn’t just lose another piece of myself to the man who never needed words to win.
When he drops me off at my building, I lean in and kiss him. It’s a kiss that comes from my heart, for a man whom I believed didn’t have one, but it turns out he has a heart larger than I could have imagined.
And when he kisses me back, it’s as if we crossed a point of no return. It’s not a kiss of undeniable lust, even though it’s present; it’s a kiss that transcends the darkness and secrets of our past.
It’s real, it’s raw, it’s powerful. And when his arms slide around me as he pulls me into his arms, I don’t protest. I’m vulnerable, but I’ve never felt so safe.
After a minute, I pull away, making an excuse about how I have to go, and I abruptly open the door and tumble out.
I know he’s watching me as I walk away, and it comforts me. He is always watching and protecting me, and I like it.
Hours later, in the confines of my home, his words are still in my chest, echoing the feelings I swore I’d never experience. They’re heavy in a way that shouldn’t feel good, but it’s almost too good.
I recall him saying, “Here I can do something. I was just a broken boy with a monster of a father.”
What the hell is happening to me?
I’ve been with dangerous men before. Men who whispered lies in the dark and made promises they never meant to keep. But Vukan?
