Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Tears stream down my face before she even finishes a single sentence, and soon, I’m sobbing in front of her.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
When I look over at Maks, he is wiping away his own tears, too, and he gives me a quick hug, squeezing me tight.
The nurse goes over Roman’s healing plan.
When I ask when we can see him, she says that we can visit his room in half an hour, but that he won’t be awake until morning at least.
The moment he is back in his room, all of us go inside.
The Onyx guys all hug him as he sleeps, then say their goodbyes to me and Maks. We stay there all night. Maks gets some sleep sitting up in his chair on one side of Roman, but I don’t sleep a wink.
19
Roman
Mama,
Life has been good.
Not all good. Not all parts. But one thing in particular has been the best thing. I met someone.
Not the person I would have ever expected.
A person who probably deserves better than me, but still stays by me, anyway.
Things went wrong… so wrong.
When I’m hurt, I still think of you. I probably always will. It was a lot of pain, hours and hours ago. So much blood. You would have been worried, but now there is no pain.
I don’t think that I can do this anymore. What I’ve done for years. What I’ve been, for my whole life. Am I someone, without the Bratva? And if I’m not, does it matter, if I can’t let myself fall into what I know is real love?
I feel weightless, thinking of him.
It’s a new feeling.
His name is Tate. I call him Blondin… or sweet… or my beauty. He is all of those things.
I let him make me so crazy.
He makes me feel like a person, again. I haven’t felt like that since you were taken from me. Can you believe it, Mama? I still have a heart.
You would love him, too.
Always…
Your Romashka
Everything is foggy.
I wake up, I fall back to sleep. I dream of writing Mama letters, in my mind.
Then I dream of Tate, of Maks, then of Tate, again and again.
My limbs are so heavy, and my thoughts are fleeting.
Then, in the bright, blinding sunshine of midmorning, I finally open my eyes fully.
And I see blond.
Tate’s hair is framed in a halo of the sunshine coming in through the window behind him, and his arm is reaching out, resting on my arm on top of my bedsheets.
Another dream…
A beautiful one.
An angel.
He glances up at me, sitting up straight when he sees that I’m awake.
“Hi,” he says softly.
“Hello, beauty.”
His smile is so wide and brighter than that sun behind him. He looks like he wants to throw himself onto the bed with me, but he’s so aware of my wounded stomach that he moves gently instead, draping himself near my shoulder.
His warmth is like a blanket on my upper arm.
I nuzzle my head against his, pulling in long, slow breaths.
“Maks is here, too,” Tate says beneath my ear. “He’s getting us coffee and bagels right now, and God, fuck, you’re finally awake.”
His lips gently press against my neck in a slow, soft kiss. He moves upward, kissing my jaw, my cheek, and then finally my lips.
I can feel his breath on me.
“You taste like strawberry,” I murmur against him. “So good. Fuck, you taste sweet.”
“I’ve been mainlining hard candy from the vending machine. Here.”
He pulls one out and places it on my tongue, and the burst of sweetness wakes me up more.
I have no idea when the last time I ate was.
One little hard candy is like an elixir from the fucking gods.
I shift on the hospital bed a little, and suddenly my whole abdomen cries out in pain.
“Oh, fuck,” I mutter.
“The nurse said your painkillers might wear off a little before they come to give the next dose. They’re swapping you from one medicine to a different one.”
“You have been here, all this time?” I ask him.
“Of course. I had to be here.”
“You are too good to me.”
All at once, fragments of memory start to float back into my mind. The thoughts I was having while I was coming out of anesthesia were dreamlike, but they were very vivid.
And in some ways I felt like I had more clarity than ever before.
“Tate, I—”
The hospital door swings open and Maks appears, with a brown bag in one hand and a tray of coffee cups in the other.
He puts both of them down on the table immediately when he sees I’m awake.
“You are up,” he says, coming over to squeeze my shoulder.
I feel the familiar urge to push down what I was about to say.
But I’m not going to let it happen this time.
“Maks, you should hear this, too,” I say. “Listen. Both of you.”
“We’re here,” Tate says.
“I am getting out.”