Page 242 of Toxic Temptation
“Luka.” I stand and reach for his shoulders. “I need you to calm?—”
“No!” He shakes me off, backing toward the door. “I love Vesper and you drove her away. You drive everyone away?—”
“Please, kid?—”
“I hate you!”
He turns and runs from the room, leaving his untouched dinner behind.
I sink back into my chair. Osip and Pavel stare at me with identical expressions of disappointment.
“He’ll get over it,” I say to the empty air. “In time, he’ll get over it.”
Pavel exhales slowly. “You’ve always known what’s best for Luka. You’ve never been wrong about him before.” He pauses. “But this time, brother… I think you’ve fucked up.”
84
VESPER
Thirty days.
That’s how long it’s been since Kovan Krayev decided I wasn’t worth fighting for.
I count the days like a prisoner marking time on a cell wall. Pathetic, but there it is. But hey, people lose their soulmates every day, right? It’s possible to be happy, to move on, to pick up the pieces of your fractured heart and get on with life. Mom did it. Why can’t I?
I walk over to her bedside and stroke her arm, the one that’s had cannulas sticking out of it for the last month. The veins have turned permanently blue.
“How’s she doing today?” I ask the nurse as she adjusts Mom’s IV drip.
“Same as yesterday. Stable but weak.” She’s using the gentle, polished tone reserved for hopeless cases.
I fucking hate that tone.
After she leaves, I settle into the chair beside Mom’s bed and watch her sleep. Her face is gaunt now, cheekbones sharp. The cancer is eating her alive from the inside out—and she’s letting it happen.
Just like Dad did.
“Knock, knock.”
Charity appears in the doorway with coffee and what looks like genuine concern. Her hair is shorter—a choppy bob that makes her look years younger.
“New haircut?”
“Thought I’d try something different. Osip said it made me look sophisticated.” She pauses. “Not that we’re talking about him.”
Right. Because my best friend is dating my ex-boyfriend’s best friend, which makes everything wonderfully complicated.
“How are you holding up?” she asks.
“I’m furious.”
Charity blinks. “At Kovan?”
“At her.” I nod toward Mom. “She’s giving up. Refusing chemo, refusing blood transfusions, refusing to fight. It’s like watching Dad all over again.”
“Vesper—”
“She could beat this if she wanted to, Char. Dr. Nass says the survival rates for her type of cancer have improved dramatically in the last five years. But she won’t even try.”
