Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
But gentler.
Because it’s him.
His hands move lower, massaging the tight knots in my shoulders, the tension in my back, my arms, and the tops of my legs.
I’m no longer embarrassed by the mess I’ve made now.
The relief feels too good, and neither of them cares. So I don’t either.
"Good. Doing so good. Just like that. Just like that."
She’s talking to me in that soft, soothing voice, the kind that makes me want to weep.
She tells me about the medicine she gave me—something over the counter that actually helps staunch the flow of blood. Pain relievers.
"Water therapy will help too," she says. "Let’s get you through this next spasm. By then, the meds should start to kick in, and you’ll want to take a bath. I’ll start it."
Matvei sits with me, and we don’t speak.
I’m glad.
He wouldn’t know the questions to ask me like she does, but I’m afraid that if I speak right now, I’ll say too much.
And not just about my past.
It feels good.
I feel safe.
I love you.
No.
I can’t talk right now.
There’s something about being vulnerable—compromised—about bearing the weight of something all on your own for so long and then having someone else come in and take the other end of the yoke from your shoulders that makes a person feel even more exposed.
And I don’t do vulnerable.
"How are you doing?" Polina asks. “Scale of one to ten, where’s the pain at now?"
"Seven," I whisper.
"Good. That’s good. We’ll get you down to at least a two or three by the end of the afternoon."
"Two or three?" Matvei growls as if personally offended. "How about zero?"
"I’m not a magician," she says with a smirk. "Just a dropout midwifery student."
I smile. "You did good for a dropout."
"Thanks, sis," she says, smiling back at me. “Don’t ask me to deliver your baby.”
I look away. I’m crying over everything these days.
"Okay, let’s get you to the bath," Polina says.
My cheeks flush with embarrassment.
I’m a sticky mess, but Matvei doesn’t care.
He bends down, lifts me into his arms, sheets tangled all around me, and carries me to the bathroom.
He jerks his head at the door, and Polina leaves.
"I can stay a little longer if you need me," she says.
"Thank you."
He stands me in front of the tub, and the sheets fall to the floor. I’m naked beneath it.
Wordlessly, he lifts me, gently settling me into the warm water.
It feels good.
I lay my head back and close my eyes.
A few seconds later, there’s the sound of a splash.
I look up and see him, naked, climbing into the tub with me.
I open my mouth, but before I can speak…
"Little witch, for fuck’s sake, let me take care of you."
He holds me in his arms, on his lap.
And for some reason, it’s okay.
I’m still bleeding, but if he doesn’t care, neither do I.
He grins at me, his eyes warm and affectionate. "Listen," he murmurs, "if you think a man like me is afraid of a little blood, it’s like you don’t know me at all."
My cheeks flush in embarrassment.
I note the way he tips a cup of warm water over my head, little droplets trickling down my face.
I sigh contentedly, and when I do, he keeps going.
"Feels good," I whisper.
He runs a soft washcloth over my shoulders, my neck, and under the water, over the curves of my body.
Between my legs.
Over my tender breasts.
Across my back and up again.
He rinses and repeats.
Rinses and repeats.
And when the waves of pain come again, he shifts me, turning me over so I’m held in his left arm, resting across his shoulder.
His other hand spans my back again, pressing steady and firm until the pain passes.
And I think I might love this man.
We stay in the tub until the water grows cold.
I shiver.
"Do you want more hot water?" he asks quietly.
I shake my head. "No. I wanna go back to bed. Please."
"You don’t have to be polite," he says with a smirk. "Just bark out orders. This is the one time you’re the one in charge."
"You might regret that," I say teasingly.
I earn a rare smile and flash of white teeth. "That’s my girl," he says quietly. "There she is. You must be feeling better."
That’s my girl.
I never knew how much those words could mean to me.
He pulls the plug on the drain, and I watch the water swirl down, shivering.
Then he wraps a towel around his waist, then one around me, and carries me to the bedroom.
The bed is freshly made.
Polina sits in a chair by the little desk in the corner, tapping something out on her phone.
"Better? The meds should’ve kicked in by now."
I nod. "Thank you so much."
"Of course," she says, getting to her feet. "We’re sisters. I do have to go, but I’m going to leave very specific instructions for him."
My heart sinks.
I don’t want her to go.