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22
NIKOLAI
The situation turned into a shitshow.
Two people left that basement in a fucking ambulance that day.
One of them was me due to that motherfucker Creighton. But hey, karma is a little bitch who works very fast, because he also got what was coming to him.
I might have made my fate worse since I pushed my throat against his blade. No regrets, though. I refused the very notion of being used against Jeremy. That’s just not going to happen under my fucking watch.
Anyway, that was over a week ago.
I’m fine now, didn’t need many stitches, and in a few weeks, I can wear the new scar as a badge of honor. Yes, bitch.
My sisters and Jeremy don’t agree about how I view the whole incident, but who gives a fuck. I’m alive.
I’m fine.
Or I was. Until I found out a tragic fact that I’d been blind to see this whole time.
My baby sister Mia is apparently friends with Bran.
Friends.
Why the fuck would he be friends with my sister? Unless he has an ulterior motive and is using her for another diabolical plan by his fucking brother or his whole fucked-up family.
He didn’t even visit me in the hospital.
Not that I’m butthurt about that or thinking about it on a daily basis or anything equally crazy.
We’redone.
Yeah, right. You haven’t moved on a fucking inch.
I could swear I heard his voice when I was sleeping and even saw him sitting in the chair beside my hospital bed and felt him stroking my hair. But then again, I’ve often been delusional when it comes to him.
Sometimes, I pictured him walking out from the penthouse elevator.
Other times, I imagined he came up to kiss me in public.
The few times I fell into a deep sleep, I dreamed of his heartfelt smiles, erotic noises, and his head on my thigh.
He invaded my every waking and sleeping moment.
The harder I pushed my mind to forget him, the more persistently he haunted me. Oftentimes, I found myself in the penthouse just to be able to smell him or see his shadow in the kitchen fixing God knows what.
But I wasfine. Fuckingperfect. Except for bugging Jer to give me problems to solve and being at the fight club on a daily basis, everything else wasawesome.
I don’t deal with complications, so removing the major complication from my life was the most logical decision I’d ever made. I was proud of myself for making that choice. For extracting the tumor that was growing inside me. I no longer had to deal with his grouchy presence, his push-and-pull games, and his stupid mixed signals.
There was just his pesky fucking ghost that followed me everywhere and wouldn’t leave me alone, but I washandlingit.
I was fuckingokay.
Until he sent me that goddamn text.
Just like that, the thin layer of ice I’d surrounded myself with melted away.
