Page 121 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

“My dad,” I finally manage, blinking back tears. “I had my dad. For a little while, anyway.”

“What happened to him?”

When most people realize my dad is dead, they fall all over themselves apologizing. For bringing him up, for my sadness, for the awkward situation they’ve caused or I’ve caused or both. But Nikolai doesn’t do any of that. He opens the floor for me to talk about him, free of judgment and pity alike. Talking about him… that’s something I haven’t done in years.

"There was an… accident," I start hesitantly. "It was Christmastime and we were at the mall. I don't remember what we were doing there. We didn't go very often because we didn't exactly have the money. But I found a huge dollhouse." I smile just thinking about it. It’s so clear in my head. "It was in a store window. It had a steep roof with dormer windows, a wraparound porch, tiny rocking chairs, and little people that could live inside. It was the prettiest house I'd ever seen. I wanted it so much."

"He bought it for you?”

I shake my head. "No. We didn’t have the money for that, not even then. But he promised Santa would bring it for Christmas. He swore.‘Cross my heart and hope to die, Bellie. Santa won’t let you down.’ And I believed him. Even though I didn't believe in Santa, even though I knew it cost too much money… I believed him. And then he died."

I swallow. Nikolai waits in patient silence for me to go on or stop, whichever I decide. I feel his openness like aloe on a sunburn. Soothing something that’s hurt me for a long, long time.

"A car crash. It was on the way home. An icy overpass." I squeeze my eyes closed. "I still remember every detail. The way the car spun. My dad threw his arm out in front of me, like he wanted to hold me in my seat. But I was wearing my seatbelt. He wasn't. He was ejected and flew over the railing."

"Fuck," Nikolai mutters.

He adds nothing else. That's fine with me—I’ve had a lifetime’s worth of well wishes that don’t change a damn thing. No amount of sympathy will bring my dad back.

I nod. "Yeah. My mom fell apart after that. She got remarried, but the guy was a waste of space. He got her pregnant and bailed. Mom started doing drugs right after she had Elise. I’m the one who changed Elise’s diapers and gave her bottles. I'm the one who took care of her. I've always taken care of her.”

"That's a lot to take on."

"Someone had to.”

My voice is venomous. Probably because, right now, I'm not talking to Nikolai—I'm talking to my mom. To Elise's dad. To all the people who should have stepped up to take care of her, but didn’t.

"Loving kids is a sacrifice,” I continue. “That's what my dad taught me. It's why I know he was going to do whatever it took to get me that dollhouse. It's why he worked late and woke up early." I feel tears burning the backs of my eyes, but I blink them away. "So I vowed to be that person for Elise. To sacrifice everything for her, no matter what."

"Not everything, I hope."

Nikolai’s eyes are burning bright in the dim light. It feels like I'm naked and he's seeing every part of me. I have the sudden urge to throw a blanket over my head and hide. It should be illegal for a man to look at you that way. It’s too much. Way too much.

"What?" I ask.

“You shouldn’t sacrifice everything.”

"Well, I didn't mean—not everything,” I stammer.

Nikolai doesn’t look like he’s buying it. “If you sacrifice everything, then there's nothing of you left for her. And I think she'd rather have you than whatever bullshit you might buy her.”

“It’s not all about stuff,” I argue. “I don’t care about that.”

“But you were willing to work for a scumbag like Roger to make sure she had shoes.”

I narrow my eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” he says. “But you shouldn’t sacrifice what you want or need for anyone. Not your sister, not your boss. No one.”

“Easy for you to say.”

I feel Nikolai turn to face me, but I ignore it. Instead, I take a bite of the sandwich and chew slowly, hoping he’ll somehow forget I’m here. That he’ll move on and we won’t have to unpack my big, fat mouth.

But when I look over, he’s still watching me.

I sigh. “You have the world on a string, Nikolai. Maybe you don’t know what it’s like to—”

“It wasn’t always like this.”

---