Page 76 of Kept in the Dark
“More like… he accepts my place here, and I know what lines not to cross. And getting to this point took some time. He’s so… um…” She cranes her neck to check for the subject of her gossip, then lowers her voice, “big and mean-looking. But now I think sometimes he’s intimidated byme,” she says, and she looks so pleased with herself that it takes me aback.
I can’t remember ever wanting someone to be intimidated by me—it’s a word that’s been used against me in the past, and never meant as a compliment.
She continues, sliding chopped spinach into a bowl and starting on a pepper. “I also realized he’s not really mean; he’s just not polite. Does that make sense? He is who he is; he’s not going to cater to your feelings. Sometimes he’s a giant asshole about it, but it’s kind of grown on me.”
I nod. That’s similar to observations I’ve made before, and I’m oddly pleased that her assessment agrees with mine.
“But he never really forgave me for taking over the cooking. So, sometimes I give him things to object to so he feels like he contributed.” She gestures to the paper towel with fried shallots. “Like I would do with my niece and nephew. ‘I don’t like peas,’” she mimics the high-pitched tone of a child.
“Wait, you’re here and you’re with one of them—like,withhim—and you have a family?”
“Most people have families,” she points out with a small smile.
“I meant…”
“I know what you mean,” she says, letting me off the hook. “Yes, I have a family. Yes, I worry about them a lot more than I used to before I got involved with Mac. It doesn’t change the fact that Mac is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I wouldn’t change my life with him for anything. In case you’re considering getting involved with Dimitri,” she adds.
I decide to ignore the implications of her sly look.
“Oh, hey, before I forget—he asked me to help get you some shoes. Ya know, before he had a temper tantrum and stormed off.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, I guess it’s not an option to go back to my place for a little bit.” Which is a shame, considering it would be pretty easy to just drive the U-Haul here.
“Been there,” she commiserates.
“You wouldn’t happen to be a size 12?” I lift my brows, and she shakes her head. Tall girl problems.
“No, but I have an internet connection.”
“Okay. I don’t have a way to pay you back right now, but as soon as I can, I will.”
She cocks her head at me, then digs into her pocket and tosses a heavy plastic rectangle onto the counter between us. It skips across the marble, landing right in front of me. “He gave me his credit card.”
“He… what?”
He wants to buy me stuff? Well, he wants me to pick it out, but he wants to pay for it. My heart pounds a little harder in my chest. That’s… nice. No, it’s too much. Is it? My poor, stupid, emotional little heart latches onto the act, like it’s proof that he wants to take care of me.
Her eyes drop meaningfully to the too-tight t-shirt and pants that are pretty clearly his. “Yup. He only specifically said shoes, though. Can’t imagine why he’d fail to mention the rest of the clothes you need,” she says, like she very much can.
At that, I think I actually do feel my cheeks heat.
“Okay. I say you eat this fabulous omelet, and I go get my phone, then we spend a bunch of Dimitri’s money, pop some corn, and watch a Japanese horror movie that Wes downloaded for me. They’re super weird; you’re either gonna love it or hate it. What do you say?”
Sounds like I have a new friend and much-needed ally.
23
Dimitri
Of course you’re serious; you’re always serious.
After days of healing, Nicole finally permits me to return to a course of weightlifting.
The gym is what convinced me to live in this house with my team, instead of moving between motel rooms and safe houses as I had for years. I am calmed by the scent of rubber and iron, and the sight of organized, clean rows of weights and machines. It is a large room, full of equipment I do not use. I am “old school” according to James because I prefer to use the Olympic-style weights. But I did not get strong with guided movements from ropes and pulleys. I got strong by lifting heavy things and putting them down. Repeatedly.
The wound on my side pulls as I complete my final set of six chest presses at 320 with the barbell. Anything over 300 pounds does push my limit, especially when healing, but I am recovering well, and Ineedto push myself. I have been trying to keep myself physically exhausted, since there is very little we can do about our Volkevich issue until the flash drive is cracked. In theory, if I spend my energy here, it will help me control myself when I am around her.
But it is just a theory. In practice, managing my desire has proved to be… difficult.
