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At the mention of my brother, I bite my tongue, sudden fear creeping in. Can’t say too much. Can’t risk it. Information is a currency I can’t afford to throw around.”
“Nilo. Your crackhead brother?”
What the fuck?!
My heart pounds in my chest at the mention of Nilo. That’s a wound that’s still too raw.
“You’ve been checking on me.” It’s not a question. The realization hits me hard, yet I can’t say I’m surprised. This is Luka we’re talking about.
Luka doesn’t deny it, his gaze steady on me. “I needed to know who I was inviting into my house. And it’s my job to know who’s around Yulia. To ensure my family’s safe.”
I suck in a sharp breath, my heart pounding against my ribs.
“How much do you know?” I ask, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. But it’s there; I can hear it, and so can he. He knows about Nilo. And about Aleks, too?
God, does he know everything?
It’s impossible. I wouldn’t be standing here if he did.
“That your brother is a fucking crackhead, Sophia.” His words are blunt and cutting.
“He- he’s not a crackhead!” I snap, my voice echoing sharply in the room.
“So, what would you call him then?” Luka’s question carries a loaded undertone.
“My…my brother… You had no right…” My words stumble out, shock paralyzing any coherent thoughts. In a burst of defiant anger, I slide from the high stool. My feet hit the ground with a thud, hands clenched so tight my knuckles turn white.
People don’t just casually drop these bombs into conversations. People don’t stir the pot on the stove while talking about your drug-addicted brother.
But Luka isn’t “people” people.
Luka talks like this.
Luka acts like this.
Luka just…does this
“I’ve done my homework, Sophia,” Luka says, his voice carrying an edge. “You’ve been playing Mama Bear to your crackhead brother for too long. Do you ever say ‘no’ to him?”
His words sting, but the truth in them hurts more. Nilo has always been a trouble magnet, and I have always been there to bail him out, to clean up his messes.
“I also know about your grandma and the three jobs you’re juggling just to make ends meet,” he continues, a hint of respect flashing across his face. “It’s commendable, Sophia. But you’re no nanny.”
“But…why would you…?” I can’t finish the sentence, too shocked to find the words.
The realization floors me. He’d dug into my life, seen all the skeletons in my closet. He’d seen the mess, the secrets, the sacrifices…and he hadn’t turned me away. No, he’d done the opposite. He’d let me in.
I try to form words, to respond, but my throat closes up. The words fail to come.
“Sophia…” Luka’s voice is surprisingly gentle. The intensity in his gaze is unnerving, a contrast to the casual disinterest he usually exudes. “I respect you. You’ve been holding the fort all alone, looking after a brother who couldn’t give a damn, a sick grandmother. And you’ve done it all without a word of complaint. That shows strength.” His eyes hold mine for a moment. “I admire strength.”
Luka’s words came like a sucker punch, tender and utterly unexpected. His usual aloof demeanor was now replaced with a warmth that clawed at the walls around my heart. His next words shock me even more.
“I’d like to ease some of your financial burdens, Sophia. Consider it a gesture of appreciation for the help you’re providing with Yulia.”
Fuck! Is he serious?
I want to laugh, to cry, to scream. The irony tastes bitter on my tongue. Here he is, trying to be my savior, oblivious to the fact that I’m the storm brewing on his horizon. If only he knew about Aleks, about the real reason I that I’m here.
