Page 29 of Your Sharpest Edge
I swallowed hard, hoping my voice didn’t betray the nervousness swirling in my mind. “I, uh—” I cleared my throat. “Brownies.”
“Extra chocolate?” Dirks inquired, to which I nodded.
“Lucky guy. Unfortunately, I’m skipping out on this party. I’m heading to visit my folks in San Fran,” he explained, gesturing toward the bag slung over his shoulder.
“Oh, right, bye week,” I responded, fully aware of what this week was but hoping the innocent front would put some space between me and this situation.
Dirks narrowed his eyes at me. “Sokolov told me he was leaving?—”
“Come inside, Anastasia,” Alex interjected, gesturing for me to enter.
I nodded at Dirks, said goodbye, and headed inside. I took a few steps before freezing in the hallway—unable to move.
I sensed him behind me, his presence a weight I couldn’t ignore. My heart pounded, each beat echoing in the silence. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.
It felt as though the floor beneath me had gripped my feet, refusing to let go. Summoning the strength to turn around was impossible. Each breath was a struggle, as if I’d forgotten how to exist.
Finally, I spun on my heels to look at him. Really look at him, maybe in a way I hadn’t before. Not just what he was wearing, but the way his eyes scanned me up and down, likely searching for signs of injury. I noticed the faint downturn of his lips, as if he was holding back a frown. His hands remained at his sides, clenched into fists, hesitating to reach out, almost as if they were restrained by the fabric of his dark jeans.
The intensity in his gaze was almost too much. His eyes darkened with concern. My throat tightened, and I struggled to find my voice, the words lodged somewhere deep inside.
We stood there, locked in a silent standoff, the air between us electric. Neither of us moved, neither of us spoke, both caught in the gravity of what lay unspoken. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving the two of us suspended in this moment.
“You’re here,” I finally was able to say somewhat softly.
“I’m always here.”
His eyes looked into mine, and I wanted to reach out to him. I wanted to run my hands along his sharp jawline, pull him in, and tell him to help me. Save me from the life I was somehow living, but no one could save me except myself.
“A-Are you not going anywhere for the week?” I asked.
He shook his head and then leaned against the hallway wall.
“No.”
His words were simple, yet the meaning was so much deeper. No, he wasn’t going anywhere. No, he was going to stay here. No, he was here with me.
“No,” I repeated, closing my eyes, knowing the one looming test inside the bathroom cabinet waited for me.
“Do you want to go skating?” I blurted out and opened my eyes.
He chuckled, and finally, the tension seemed to alleviate. It felt like our more carefree normal selves when we were laughing, watching a movie.
“I would love to.”
“I have a few errands in the morning, so I’ll meet you at the rink around noon?”
“Yeah, but let’s go to the practice rink. It’ll be right before public skate, but it’ll be fresh ice.”
I nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.” There was another pause between us. “Thank you.”
My words carried a meaning that was so much deeper.Thank you for giving me this space.
I was a walking contradiction. Don’t ask me how I am, but please know when to step in to help. Please spend time with me, but only when I can. Don’t touch me, but also please reach out and let me know what it feels like to have your arms hold me.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the self-deprecating thoughts and focus on the apartment. I had spent so many evenings here, though, it felt different in the light. Truthfully, Idon’t think I’d actually ever seen it with natural light. I walked down the hallway and was surprised by how warm it was in here. The furniture was familiar, and it was still cozy, but there was such an openness to it.
“I’ve never been here during the day,” I noted. “It’s beautiful.”
