Page 4 of Conceal

“Because breaking up with you would’ve required him to look you in the eye and take responsibility for his decision,” I explain. I’m not trying to hurt or offend her, but a part of me does wish that she would wake up and protect herself.

“Instead, he did... that?”

“Instead, he made you do the work for him. He put you in a position where the only logical outcome was to break up with him.”

Understanding slowly dawns across her features. Her lip curls in disgust.

“That’s awful.”

“Yes.”

I pull into the gated parking lot for her building. It was an old school fire station that was renovated to hold apartments; hers being the penthouse. The walls are old brick, and the windows are oversized, letting in the natural light she needs for painting. I shut the truck off and open the back door, offering my hand to help her out.

We walk in silence to her private elevator and into her apartment. I want her to open up to me, to vent, to rail, to do whatever she needs to do to feel better. I can still tell she’s wearing her disappointment like a cloak, but I’m still on duty, so I can’t be that for her.

Instead, I text Mik to let him know what happened. He’s her best friend. It’s his job to be a shoulder for her to cry on. Not mine.

Never mine.

Chapter three

Mikhail

My phone buzzes against the weight bench, and I almost ignore it.

I’m two reps from done. I’ve loaded the bar heavier than I should have for a Thursday night, but Tatiana was going to her boyfriend’s house, and I needed the burn to distract me. To distract me from images of them kissing, of him touching her, or having her in all the ways I can’t.

But when I glance down, I see it’s not Tatiana’s name; it’s Roman. Which means something must be wrong.

I drop the bar with a clank and swipe the notification.

Roman: Tati walked in on Leo and another woman. She's home now but needs a friend

Then be a friend, you asshole!

I know Roman harbors feelings for her, but won’t act on them. I’m sure he thinks it’s inappropriate to be with his friend’s daughter, but she’s alone in this world. Her family has all but forgotten she exists, and she’s so desperate for someone to see her and choose her - it’s why she’s obsessed with love. She needs to know that she’s worthy of it. That somehow, someday, someone will look up and see her and stop at nothing to be with her.

I know that won’t be Roman, but fuck. He could choose to see her and be her friend in this moment. I sincerely doubt she’s under any real threat from her father’s enemies here, but whatever. I’m sure he takes his responsibilities seriously.

I don’t bother to text back. I’m in the shower in seconds.

When I get to her place, she’s already in her painting clothes, sitting on the floor, legs crossed, putting on a base coat on a canvas. Her parakeet Sparkles is tucked into the crook of her neck, making coos and whistles at her happily.

I watch her for a second, trying to judge where she’s at mentally, but painting is her happy place. Painting and riding, and I guess it’s a little too late to head to the barn.

I turn to see Roman already watching her.

He’s sitting in his chair next to the door, the first line of defense if anyone were to try to break in. It also gives him a direct sight-line to our little studio. I say little, but it takes up the entire top floor. It’s just an open floor plan. Our bed is nestled in the corner with a TV at the foot of it, her easels and bookshelves on the opposite wall, with the door to the bathroom, while the kitchen is the first thing you walk into. She could have bought a house or a penthouse apartment in one of the nicer buildings, but she wanted the full college experience.

Only her father refused to let her bunk in the dorms. Roman and Lev backed up her father, and when she realized she wouldn’t be able to cohabitate with a man in the dorms, she caved. I’d been holding my breath the entire conversation, wondering if she was finally done with me. Instead, she found us this adorable apartment. I’m grateful for every day that she keeps me.

Unsure of where she’s at mentally, I simply sit behind her, bracketing her knees with mine and resting my chin on her shoulder.

“You didn’t have to come home right away. I really am fine,” she says, and I believe her. But she’s my person. If even a fraction of her is hurting, I’m going to be here for her.

“He didn’t deserve you,” I say.

“I know.”