Page 157 of Barinov

I turn into Bella’s doorway right as a flash of red flies toward my face.

“Well that’s just rude,” I say, catching the glass swan in my palm. My heart is thundering against my ribs, but I force a smirk. “You paid a whole two dollars for this thing.”

“Zeke?!” she screams, her steel-gray eyes wide and frantic.

“Yeah, Bells.” I nod, biting back the sting in my eyes. I toss the red swan onto the mattress and open my arms. “I’m here, sis.”

She bolts toward me, jumping up and wrapping her legs around my hips. I stumble back a step when I catch her.

“I got you,” I breathe into her hair, cinching my arms around her.

“Where have you been?” she cries, burying her face into the crook of my neck.

“Here and there,” I say as I set her down gently and take a few steps toward the bed. “Let’s sit down and talk.”

“Not on the bed.” She yanks me back, her head shaking violently. “It’s… it’s cold.”

“Okay.” I nod. “Alright, no bed.”

“Thanks.”

We walk over and sit down on the black, velvet bench by the window. For a moment, Bella just quietly stares out over the moon-lit pool, twirling the diamond on her finger.

“Sis?” I reach out and brush my fingers over her knuckles.

She flinches.

“Sorry.” I recoil, my heart sinking. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” she says. She swipes a stray tear from her cheek, her eyes never leaving the glass. “It’s okay, I was just… just thinking.”

“Wanna talk about it?” I press, keeping my voice low.

Bella nods, a ragged sniffle escaping her. “I-I can’t do this anymore. The act.” She looks at me and the hollow in her eyes makes my blood fucking boil.

“Zeke, I can’t be her for one more second. The way he–”

“Has he?” I cut in, fury flashing through my spine. For a second, I’m back in Miami listening to Carlos and Vince whispering outside our door. I lean in, my voice dropping to a dangerous vibration. I have to swallow to force the damn words out.

“Has he hurt you, Bells? Touched you?”

“He hasn’t forced himself on me,” she says, her snarky little attitude thankfully coming back. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

The breath I feel like I’ve been holding for three damn weeks releases in a shudder. “Thank, God,” I whisper, reaching out for her hand and bringing her knuckles to my lips. “Thank, God.”

“No!” She rips her hand away and jumps to her feet. “You don’t get it! I can’t keep this going forever.”

“I know that.”

“No you don’t!” Her voice rises. She starts to pace, her steps frantic and off balance. “He’s been patient. Even been a damn gentleman about it,” she spits. “Luckily we’ve been distracted by planning the charade of an engagement party coming up.” Her hands dive into her long black, waves, gripping at the roots.

“But I can only tell him ‘I’m not ready’ for so long. Or that I’m ‘cramping and tired’ so long before he loses that patience! Before he thinks that his precious Izzy is broken and decides to take me to a fucking hospital to figure out why I’m ‘bleeding’ every few days. I’m running out of lies, Zeke. When the hell are we—”

“Soon,” I interrupt. “We’re getting out of here soon.”

She stops and whirls around to face me. “What?”

“Come on.” I pat the bench. “Sit.”