Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“Nyet. Don’t fucking talk to her,” Adrian snarls.
“Get out!” I sob. “All of you!”
“Adrian, you’re making it worse. You’re not helping,” Kat says.
“You want me out, Nadia?” Flynn asks in a low voice. He has that talent for de-escalating things. Adrian gets louder, but Flynn gets softer. It makes the metal clanging quiet because I have to strain to hear him.
“Yes,” I choke. “Please.” I hate that he’s seeing me like this.
It’s so damn embarrassing.
“Come on.” Kat tugs Adrian’s arm. “That means us, too. Let Flynn leave.”
I step into the shower not because I plan to use it, but to hide from all of them. I sink to my ass on the tile floor, plug my ears, and rock, trying to quiet the screech and scream of mechanical gears turning in my head.
“Nadia.” Flynn gets even softer. He crouches outside the shower, giving me space, and picks up one of my hands. I expect him to ask if I’m okay, or tell me that it’s okay, or do something that will require me to speak, but he doesn’t say anything. He just squeezes my fingers and waits a moment then releases them and gets up and leaves.
The moment he walks away, I bite my hand on a sob.
5
Flynn
Kat pulls Adrian out of the bathroom and into the living room, where he regards me with a glower when I walk out.
“Get out,” he growls and tosses my shirt, sweater and jacket at me.
I hesitate because I don’t want to leave Nadia like this. I want to be with her through it. To sit beside her and hold her hand and distract her with something benign that helps her shift.
But she said she wanted me out, and I do suspect Adrian would kick my ass if I tried to stay.
Fuck, he throws a mean punch. I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me rub my jaw although it’s starting to throb.
“You have no idea what you're dealing with here. She can't do this with you. Now get out.”
I hesitate a moment longer then leave the apartment. I step into the elevator and hit the button for the underground parking lot.
I honestly don’t care about getting punched.
I’m in trauma over Nadia’s trauma. I want to fix it for her.
Fix everything.
Dammit, now I’m one hundred times more invested in making sure she gets everything she wants out of our non-relationship.
She needs sexual healing? I’m her man.
She needs a friend? I will be with her through thick and thin.
Hell, if she needed a boyfriend, I’d be that for her, too.
I don’t take the time to examine that thought because it’s irrelevant. She doesn’t want a boyfriend. She’s just trying to get through her days.
The elevator doors open, and I step into the parking garage. Something about Nadia’s breakdown makes me need to call my mom. I pull my phone out and dial her number as I walk to the van.
How many times have I been with her in moments like that? Dozens. Maybe more. At age sixteen, I was the guy who drove her to the psychiatric treatment center to check herself in because Story had the flu. I visited her there. Sat with her when she got out.
The episodes were scary when I was little, but I learned to lean into them. To show up for her. Hold her hand. Distract her. Lay my head on her shoulder.
“Flynn! How’s my favorite son?” she answers. I’m her only son, so it’s a little joke of hers.
“Hi, Mom. You sound good.” I open the door to the van and climb behind the wheel but don’t start it up.
“I am good. My friend Dan spent the night last night.”
She means boyfriend. My mom doesn’t really know how to do casual sex like my dad and me. She gets attached and then broken-hearted. It’s hard to watch.
Thank fuck neither Story nor Dahlia–my two sisters–took after her. Story used to be more like me, but now they both are in serious relationships.
“That’s great, Mom. Is he still there?”
“Yes. I’m making pancakes. Want to come over?”
“Eh, no. I don’t want to interrupt. Have fun with Dan.”
“Hang on. What’s going on with you, sweetheart?”
“I just called to hear your voice.”
“Aw, I love you, Flynn. But you can’t fool me–I know when something’s on your mind.”
I grunt my agreement.
“What is it? What happened?”
“There’s a girl…”
“Oh.”
I resent the surprise in my mom’s voice, even though it’s fully warranted.
“We’re just friends,” I clarified. “Nevermind.”
“Hang on a second.” She pulls out the mom voice that makes me straighten up and pay attention even though I’m twenty-two years old. “Tell me about her.”
“She’s Russian, like Oleg. She lives in Story’s building and comes to our shows. I really like her.”
“Go on.”
“Well, something bad has happened to her–like a sexual assault kind of thing. She had a panic attack when we were, ah…”