Page 37

maggie

I run my fingers along the dark edges of the tattoos across his chest, pausing on the cool metal of his piercing as we lie in bed.

This is a much better feeling than the last time I laid next to him in this room – curled up and miserable after losing my dinner.

We’ve had some of the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my life.

Here and back in Milwaukee. This man and the things he does to me.

My skin is still prickling from the way he thrusted his dick between my tits.

Maybe I was hearing things, but I swear I heard him mutter the word bobsled at one point like he was push-starting one down a track.

And oh, did I feel the rhythm and the rhyme of his bobsled time.

But as the rush of the evening fades, a quiet unease curls in my stomach.

My mind wanders to a place I’m scared to go – but maybe, deep down, it’s somewhere I want to be.

Thoughts of what happens tomorrow or the day after that or when we all head back home after the wedding make my mouth dry.

Is this going to be like the last time? Is he going to walk away and say he doesn’t do relationships?

Should I ask him? I risk glancing at him through my lashes.

Fuck, I want to ask him . I know I project an outward confidence, and for the most part, I am confident in my life.

Except for this one pesky thing, person, specifically the one I’m cozied up to in bed.

I’m confident as hell with him physically.

But emotionally? I cringe internally. I’m a complete chickenshit.

Scared-to-fucking-death. But one thing I’ve always been good at is just focusing on the now and shoving my emotions down to keep them at bay.

And right now, lying with my head in the crook between his arm and his chest while he runs his warm, calloused hand up and down my back and prickling the hairs on my skin… this is all I want to focus on.

“Magdalina, can I ask you a question?” His voice breaks the peaceful quiet, my name on his lips causing my heart to flutter.

I look up to him, nodding. He can ask me anything after that last round.

“Back in Milwaukee, you said something I’ve been curious about ever since.” Oh shit. On second thought, I take that back. “You said your only limit was not hitting you in the face. Is there a reason for that?”

My stomach clenches, a cold sweat peppering my skin. I look back down, staring into the metal bar through his nipple with a deep inhale, preparing to tell him about my own personal childhood traumas.

“I was not always the most cool, bad-ass, confident person you know today,” I say, exhaling and closing my eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I don’t believe that. Not for one second.”

“Oh…you should. It’s unfortunately very true.

When I was in middle school, I had a rough time.

That stage of puberty is awkward as hell for everyone, but especially for me.

I got bullied a lot because I was overweight.

Looking back now, I see that girl, and she wasn’t even that overweight.

It’s just…normal adolescent growing pains.

Your body is doing all these weird things.

Boys are sudd enly cute. Girls are gossipy.

Everyone has hair growing in new places.

I got made fun of a lot, but I found ways to get through it. Being involved in art was a huge help.”

“Is this a normal thing girls go through at that age?” he asks, a worried tone in his voice. “My schooling was excellent, but it was an all-boys prep school.

“I think everyone does at some point. Having a creative outlet to deal with, fuck, everything was how I got into my career. And I came out stronger because of it.” I take a deep breath, grounding myself in the warmth of his arms. I ’m not in that place anymore.

I still don’t know what we are, but I’m certain he would burn the world for me if I asked.

“There was one kid. He was especially mean to me. He would make jokes about me in front of the whole class, even on the bus to school, in front of the other kids, and he would call me the most vile things. I remember one day, I was so excited to wear a new shirt to school. It was super expensive, and I begged my mom to buy it for me until she finally gave in.”

“You annoyed her so much you finally got your way? I’m shocked.” He smirks.

I poke his chest and roll my eyes. “Did you just make a joke over there, Mr. Serious?”

“I have my moments,” he says with a laugh. “I’m sorry I interrupted…please continue.”

Tears prick at the back of my eyes—even after all these years . “The day I wore that new shirt, he said I looked like a fat dog in front of the whole class. I went home that night and hid the shirt in the back of my closet and never wore it again. I was mortified.”

Vladi pulls me in closer, comforting me in a way I never knew I needed. Settling feelings inside me I have been shoving down for longer than I care to admit.

“I got so tired of him calling me names all the time. I couldn’t take it anymore, so one day at recess I finally stood up to him.

I told him to stop saying mean things to me or I was going to go tell the teacher.

Apparently, he didn’t like that, so he walked right up to me and slapped me across the face. Hard. In front of everyone.”

“What?!” Vladi sits straight up, taking me with him. He gently cups my cheek, thinly veiled furrow settling over him. “What did you do? Who is this man? Is he still alive?”

I let out a little chuckle. Wow, this man is protective .

“I believe he’s still alive, yes. And it’s okay.

It was a long time ago. It’s still painful, but it’s in the past. That’s where it’ll stay.

” He doesn’t seem convinced, but at least his arm has loosened enough around me I can breathe.

“I had a handprint on my cheek for the rest of the school day. I tried to hide my face, holding it all in until I got home, then cried in my room for hours. The worst part is, he did it again another day. My mom called the principal, furious they allowed something like this to happen. They said it was his word against mine, so there was nothing they could do. I even asked the other kids who saw it to vouch for me, but they said he was more popular than me so they couldn’t take my side.

” His hands shake against my skin, his eyes swirling with something heavier than sadness.

I place a reassuring kiss on his chest, a quiet promise we’re both safe here.

“I was devastated. This was back in the day when it wasn’t even called bullying.

It was just more ‘suck it up and deal with it’.

I did have one teacher who pulled me aside and said if that kid ever came near me again, she would personally deal with him.

She knew I was a good kid, and this kid was a prick.

But he was popular. I was not. Kids are cruel, and I survived.

“But I was with another guy in college, and while we were…getting intimate…he also slapped me across the face. It was…triggering to say the least. I kicked him out of my dorm room immediately. I like a little pain with my pleasure, but…not the emotional side of it.”

“Who is this person? Both of these men, I need their names. I will kill them. No wait, they are not men. A real man would never hurt a woman like that,” he spits out low and gravelly, his eyes scanning me for any trace of pain. He is for sure plotting to find these guys and murder them.

“Okay…calm down there, killer. It was so long ago. Last I heard, one was a mall security guard. Funny thing is, his last name was Tartar. Trent Tartar. How he didn’t get made fun of for that name, I’ll never know.

Not one person in our school ever called him Tartar Sauce!

Not even a Cream of Tartar or Tartar the Farter.

Probably ‘cause he would have hit anyone that made fun of him.”

“I will hunt him down,” he vows as a vein pops out in his forehead. Damn, he is pissed. I’m wondering, once again, if my Russian spy theory really is true.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m okay. I’m right here. No one is hurting me now.”

“No one is hurting you ever, lisichka . Do you hear me? Never again.”

Oh shit . A lump rises in my throat. This is triggering him for a whole different reason.

I cup his cheek, mirroring him as he’s still holding mine while we sit in bed.

My heart breaks for him and what he’s feeling.

“Vladi, shit. I’m sorry I brought that up.

I’m sure that brought back…You asked, and I?—”

“No. This is not your fault,” he grabs my hand, entwining his fingers with mine. “I want to hear about your life. I’m only sorry I was not there to help you. I don’t ever want you to feel unsafe.”

“You didn’t even know me then, which means there is nothing for you to be sorry about. I know you’re very protective of people you–” I stop myself before I say something I’m going to regret.

“It just…every time in my life I’ve tried to be me, to stand up for myself, it was too much for other people to handle.

So much that they had to break up with me, or slap me in the face, or fire me from a campaign.

” Bile slowly rises in my throat, thinking of all this, wishing these feelings would leave and never come back.

“I’ve always been too much for anyone to handle. ”

“ Lisichka , look at me.” He breaks the silence, softly tugging my chin up so I have nowhere to look but directly into his gaze.

My voice shakes, tears threatening to cascade down my cheeks. “Am I too much for you, Wolfie? I know I’m loud, and messy, and I always cause a scene, and?—”

“No.” He cuts me off, something fierce and raw in his voice. “You’re not too much. Never too much. Too beautiful? Yes. So passionate I worry I can’t keep up? Yes. So driven and intelligent and unapologetically Maggie fucking James? Yes. Always yes.”