Page 112

I wake slowly, surfacing through layers of exhaustion, smoke, and dreams that refuse to let go. I have no idea where I am. The mattress beneath me is too soft to be mine, and the room around me is wrapped in muted morning light glowing through partially drawn curtains. Everything smells wrong, too. It isn't my apartment. It isn't Mama's house.

Memory slams back all at once.

The fire.

Smoke.

Jules trapped beneath the shelving.

Alexei carrying me through flames while the shelter burned around us.

My eyes fly open.

As soon as I wake up, my body lets me know exactly how unhappy it is. My throat feels like I swallowed a handful of sand, and every breath scrapes on the way down. My shoulder throbs where the ceiling hit me, and my chest aches from coughing half the night away.

Alexei looks up from the laptop resting across his thighs. He's already dressed in dark slacks and a dark shirt, though the sleeves have been pushed to his elbows. Fresh white bandages cover the burn on his forearm, and there are shadows beneath his eyes that tell me he hasn't slept much. The moment he realizes I'm awake, the laptop disappears onto the nightstand.

“You're awake,” he says quietly.

Some of the strain leaves his face, and I realize with a sudden ache that he hasn't simply been sitting beside me. He's been watching me sleep.

“Jules?” The question leaves me before I'm fully awake.

Alexei moves closer. One arm slides behind my shoulders, helping me sit up while he carefully adjusts the pillows at my back.

“Home,” he says. “Luka drove him there this morning.”

The knot lodged in my chest loosens. There were several terrifying hours yesterday when I honestly wasn't sure either of us would make it out of that building alive. I sink back against the pillows and close my eyes, simply letting myself feel it.

“Thank You, Jesus.”

Alexei's hand finds mine on top of the blankets.

“He's fine, kotyónok,” he murmurs, squeezing gently. “Stubborn. Annoying. Already arguing with everyone.”

I let out a small laugh. “That sounds about right.”

Alexei brushes several strands of hair away from my face, his fingertips lingering against my cheek.

“Your mother appears to have moved into his apartment.”

I blink up at him. “What?”

“There was discussion about sending him home alone,” Alexei says, the corner of his mouth almost lifting. “Teresa informed the medical staff, Jules, and everyone else within earshot that she would be staying with him. No one argued.”

I let out a laugh and regret it the second my abused throat protests.

Alexei's eyes darken with concern. “Easy.”

He reaches for the glass of water on the nightstand and helps me take several careful sips before setting it aside again.

“That poor man,” I mumble.

Alexei lifts an eyebrow. “I believe the phrase she used was, ‘Boy, you nearly burned to death. You sit your behind down before I sit it down for you.’”

I laugh again, softer this time. “Yep. That sounds exactly like Mama.”

I close my eyes and simply let myself soak in the relief because Jules is alive. He's alive, Mama is taking care of him, and somehow we all survived.