Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Of course. You don’t have to ask. This is always your home.”
“Come on.” I push to my feet. “I’ll run you a bath. I’m sure you’ll feel better after relaxing in warm water.”
While my mom shuffles around the bedroom, unpacking her cosmetics, I fill the bathtub. When she was first diagnosed, we had her bathroom adapted with a spa bath sporting a built-in bench, special bars on the sides, and a shower nozzle attached to the wall. It’s close to the design of a Jacuzzi, which allows my mom to get in and out easily with a few steps on either side of the tub, and to be submerged in the water in a sitting position. The last thing I want is for her to be stuck in the bath and unable to get out, or to slip when she’s weak.
I add Epsom salts to the water to help relieve the pain in her joints and switch on the jets to massage her back and legs. Hanging a towel on the bench next to the bath, I leave her to unwind while I finish unpacking her suitcase and put her dirty clothes in the washing machine.
It’s close to ten when we finally go to bed, and the moment my head hits the pillow in my childhood bedroom, I’m fast asleep.
* * *
The ring of the alarm on my phone wakes me at five. I switch if off quickly so I don’t wake my mom. After dressing, I go to the kitchen to make coffee and toast. I always keep a few items of clothing in my old bedroom in case I have to sleep over when my mom is having a bad spell. I dress in a clean pair of jeans, a warm sweater, and my puffy jacket. Then I set the alarm and lock up before making my way to the bus.
I half expect to see a black car in the street, but Alex doesn’t know where I am. Even if he wanted to be stubborn and send Yuri again, he couldn’t. Which is for the best. Maybe sleeping over at my mom’s last night was a blessing in disguise.
My phone rings as I get off the bus. I check the screen. It’s Alex. Without giving it another thought, I reject the call. A moment later, my phone pings with a voicemail notification. I make it one whole block before I cave and listen.
“Katyusha, where are you? You didn’t sleep at home last night. Please tell me you’re safe. That’s all I want to know, I promise. Just call me.”
Biting my lip, I consider his persistent need to know that I’m safe. I want to keep him at arm’s length, but I can’t bring myself to let him worry.
I type a text message while I’m walking.
I’m fine. I had to take care of my mom yesterday. You have to stop worrying about me. I’m not your responsibility. We’re over.
I watch the blue line run from zero to one hundred percent as my message is delivered. I give it a couple of seconds, but there’s no reply.
There. It’s done. I couldn’t have made it any clearer.
As I near the ER, I keep vigilant, but I don’t spot Dimitri or Yuri. The pavement in front of the main entrance is void of big Russian men, and no fancy cars are parked at the curb.
A cold wind rips around the corner of the building, making my eyes water. I rush through the sliding doors, grateful for the warmth inside.
June catches up with me on the stairs. “Kate, you have to come see this.”
My senses go on high alert. “Is something wrong?”
“No, quite the opposite.”
She leads the way to the recovery wing. Pushing open the door of the first room, she stands aside for me to enter. A huge bouquet of white roses stands on the trolley at the foot-end of the bed, hiding the patient who lies under the covers.
I frown. “What did you want to show me?” I don’t see anything out of order.
“The flowers,” she says with meaning.
“They’re pretty, but why show me?”
“Because…” She gives me a piercing look. “There’s a bouquet in each and every room of the hospital, and the guy who delivered them says they’re from your boyfriend.”
14
I stare at June in shock. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Well,” June says, “you’d better explain that to the guy waiting in reception for you.”
My heart hammers in my chest, mimicking my steps as I make my way back to reception. I brace myself before I turn the corner, expecting to see a strong body, a sinfully yet unconventionally handsome face, and piercing blue eyes, but there’s no tall Russian emanating danger among the throng of people in the reception area.
A guy wearing overalls and a baseball cap stands at the desk. Next to him is a huge pink box with a white ribbon, along with a smaller one.