Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 104682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
"It might not be cancer, Nikolai," I said softly.
Nikolai shook his head. "He's been sick a lot this past year. He gets lots of infections, has stomach problems. Can't keep food down. Elena keeps taking him to his pediatrician, but he says Maks is just one of those sickly kids and he'd grow out of it."
Nikolai downed the drink before adding bitterly, "We knew it was more than that. We knew, but that asshole just wouldn't listen."
"Have you taken him to see a specialist?" I asked.
"Specialists cost money," Nikolai murmured. His words were slurring just a little bit. I figured there was no way he would have been telling me such personal information if he'd been sober. I felt like I was cheating somehow by even listening to what he was saying, but I wasn't about to leave him there by himself. Even if he didn't need me, Nikolai needed someone.
"What about insurance?" I asked.
"You have to have it,” he muttered.
Nikolai was silent for a moment before he said, "My parents tried to keep up with the payments but they just kept going up every year. And it was that HMO shit so they don’t even cover everything… just the bare necessities.”
I thought back to the day I’d met Nikolai. When I’d done that initial research on him, I’d assumed his parents had been behind on their payments for their business because the business had been failing or they’d been financially reckless, but now I started to wonder if that wasn't the case at all. If there was no insurance and the little boy had been sick for a while, that likely meant stacks of medical bills. I felt like an ass for having jumped to the conclusion that Nikolai's parents were just bad at running their business.
"Nikolai, I'm sorry," I said.
I lost count of how many drinks Nikolai had consumed by then as he threw back another. "S’okay," he said tiredly and then he was leaning into me just a little bit. "Maks is strong. He's a fighter," he breathed, and then suddenly his head was dropping on my shoulder. I could feel his warm breath against my skin as he succumbed to the effects of the alcohol. I knew I was taking advantage of the situation, of his closeness, but I couldn't help myself. I reached up to touch the side of his face as he rested his head on my shoulder. His skin was finally warm. His little bit of scruff felt soft beneath my fingertips as I ran my fingers over his jawline. It would be so easy to turn my head and taste him. But I was already pushing the boundaries of appropriateness.
"He is strong," I murmured as I considered Nikolai's words about his nephew. "Just like his Uncle Nikolai," I added. The fact that Nikolai probably wouldn't remember any of this made me freer with my words and my touch. As he began to nod off, I leaned back against the couch and let him sink further into my hold. I ran my fingers through his hair in smooth, rhythmic strokes to help him drift off.
"Jude," Nikolai said drowsily.
"I'm here, Nikolai," I responded.
"Don't go, okay?" he managed to get out. His words were heavily slurred. "Stay."
My heart jumped at his request. Not that I'd been planning to go anywhere anyway, but to know that he wanted me there… that he needed me made something in my chest glow with a level of happiness that threatened to steal my breath away. But the feeling lasted only long enough for Nikolai to add, "Not safe out there."
Then he was out and I was left to dwell on the single fact that I'd conveniently managed to forget.
I was Nikolai's job.
Just a job and nothing more.
Chapter 13
Nikolai
I hated waking up with a hangover. In my line of work, I couldn't afford to lose even a moment's focus on the bigger picture but sometimes a man had to make exceptions. Like when you learned the kid you loved more than life itself was potentially facing the battle of a lifetime. In my book, that warranted a drink or two… or a dozen.
The sun was just breaking over the horizon when I woke up the following morning with a mouthful of cotton and a pounding in my head that felt like Thor himself was beating on my tired brain with his hammer to punish me for my foolishness.
I was one of those drinkers who didn't have the luxury of forgetting all the stupid things he did when he overindulged, so I remembered every moment of the night before, including the part where I'd let my body sink against Jude's in the hopes that he'd make all the hurt go away.
My memory turned to action as I looked around the apartment for Jude. My home away from home was empty, though. Panic consumed me as I got to my feet and headed for the door. My phone chose that moment to ring. I had to search it out from where it had fallen between the cushions of the couch. When I snatched it up and saw my sister’s name on the caller ID, I momentarily forgot about everything else. "Elena, how is he?"