“I think I can make it work.” I wink at him as I turn to the first page. “Now let’s see about these gorillas.”
17
Kat
I leave Lev to read but stand just outside the bedroom listening as he makes all the sounds of the different characters. In spite of myself, I have to smile at some of them, and hearing Josh giggle is what triggers it.
He won’t hurt Josh, and I know that. I’m not afraid of that at all, actually. But there is another thought niggling at me. Would he try to take Josh away from me?
Just the thought makes me shudder, and I hug my arms to myself. I walk into the kitchen and put the kettle on to make tea. Past my reflection in the window, a flurry of snow falls to the ground. I’m not sure if it’s the wind rustling up the already fallen snow or if it’s the next front that’s predicted.
I focus on my face in the glass. I look pale and tired.
The kettle whistles, startling me. I hurry to take it off the flame and set it on the back burner while spooning loose jasmine green tea into a tea bag. Setting that into the teapot Josh and I painted together at the local ceramic shop, I pour hot water over it.
When I next look up, my face isn’t the only one in the window.
My breath catches as I turn, and I meet Lev’s eyes. The cabin isn’t big, it’s just right for Josh and me, but with Lev here, it looks tiny. Like a dollhouse. He’s a hulking figure in the kitchen, and just his size alone makes my belly flip. I don’t want to want this. Want him. Didn’t the violence of the afternoon prove to me how bad he is for me? For us?
But I can’t deny that being near him does something to me.
“He’s a sweet kid,” Lev says, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. “You did good.”
I’m surprised by the compliment. Not that I think I’ve done badly with Josh, but just that he’s saying that.
“Thanks,” I say, busying myself with taking out the tea bag. It should steep longer, but I don’t know what to do with my hands. “Tea?” I ask when I turn around.
“Do you have something stronger?”
“Um…” I look around the kitchen, then remember the almost-full bottle of vodka in the freezer. Luke had brought it a long time ago. I can’t even remember the occasion because I don’t drink much in general. “Here,” I say, taking it out, deciding not to mention it’s from Luke.
He takes the bottle and reads the label. “It’ll do, but we’ll get some good stuff tomorrow.”
“I don’t really drink. There’s no need.”
“I do drink,” he says. Is that his way of telling me he’s staying?
I get him a glass. “Do you want ice?”
He shakes his head. “It’s cold enough.”
I stand there, not quite sure what to do.
“Sit down, Katerina.”
“Why? Do I make you nervous with all these sharp knives around?”
His lips curl upward. “I can repeat this afternoon’s lesson if you need me to.” He pushes the chair out with his foot. “Sit.”
I sit, wincing when my butt hits the wooden chair. If he notices, and I’m sure he does, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he pours himself two fingers of vodka. I consider getting up to get a cushion but don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“You can’t stay here,” I say, pouring myself a cup of tea.
“I thought I made it clear that’s not up for discussion.”
“Where will you sleep?”
He just raises his eyebrows and swallows back the vodka.
“What will I tell Josh? How do I explain my ‘friend’ is sleeping in my bed?”
“We’ll figure that out. We have more important things to discuss.”
Yes, I know we do. If Lev found me, and his friend or whoever erased my hard drive from wherever he is found me, who else knows I’m here? Knows that I had that information?
“Who emptied my computer files and how?”
“My cousin. He’s a computer genius, I guess you could say. He told me some other things about you too.”
I try to keep my face void of emotion. “Like what?”
“Like that your mother died when you were three in a single car accident and that you were found a few days later. That you grew up in foster care, and that your last address was the juvenile detention center in Blackwood, New Jersey.”
My heart rate picks up and blood drums against my ears.
“How did he…?”
“We’ll talk about all that later, but I want to know something else first.”
“What?”
“Joshua Blake. I assume he’s the Josh you named my son after. The one you called out for when we were together last.”
I feel the blood drain from my face.
He shifts his attention to the vodka, refreshes his glass, then pushes it toward me.