Page 118 of Kept in the Dark

“I’m not,” I realize. “But I will be. This life isn’t for me. I can’t do it.”

She frowns. “You don’t think Dimitri could make you happy?”

He definitely could.

She can see the answer on my face; I don’t have to say it out loud. “Then you don’t think hewould? You don’t think he cares about you enough to make sure you’re happy?”

I shake my head. “He would, I’m sure, but what if it’s not enough? I’d end up feeling bad because he was unhappy that I was unhappy… It’s a cycle. I can break it before it even starts. It’s the kinder thing to do, for both of us.”

Her frown deepens, and she shifts in her seat so she can face me more fully, a look of accusation written plainly on her face. “I’m sorry, but Icannothave understood you right. Are you telling me you’re leaving because you’re worried that atsome pointin the future youmightbe unhappy?”

“I know myself,” I say defensively. “And in my experience, it’s best to get ahead of these things.”

I’m not sure how I expected her to react, but it’s not with a high-pitched, mocking, childish comeback. “Oh boo-hoo, I’m runningaway from my sex god boyfriend who would burn down the world to keep me safe because I’m not 100% sure we’ll live happily ever after.”She rolls her eyes. “That’s you. That’s what you sound like.”

I cut her a look, and a pretty pink blush colors her cheeks. “Eleanor—”

“I’m sorry, but that’s just fucked up.”

“Don’t judge me,” I hiss. “You don’t know me, Eleanor. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

She sighs, and her shoulders drop. “Sorry… got a bit caught up. It’s just… the possibility of being unhappy islife, Nicole. What you’re describing is life. You can’t control every aspect so you’re never unhappy. That’s not how it works.”

“It’s worked for me all these years.”

Her face softens. “Okay, look, Nicole. Lord knows we’ve all got our demons, but I’m not letting you leave thinking you’re doing the hard thing and making some huge sacrifice when in reality you’re just running away. You love him,” she accuses. “And he loves you. You’re scared. And there’s nothing wrong with being scared, but—”

“I’m not,” I defend. “I just refuse to live like a prisoner.”

She squints at me. “So don’t,” she says, shrugging. “I told you—you don’t have to do this like how Mac and I do. There are other ways. Don’t you want to be with him?”

I scoff. “It’s not that simple! The cops are looking for me, and an entire Russian mafia knows I had millions of dollars of their money. They’re always going to keep coming after me.”

“So? Nicole, those three have a combined IQ of, like, 600. They could easily figure out another way—you don’t have to leave. Of course there are other ways. I reject that reason. Try again.”

“He doesn’t really want me to stay,” I confess, feeling my chest cave, pulling down my shoulders in a protective curl.

I thought after the night he killed the Volkevich leader that he agreed we were worth fighting for. I hoped last night he’d at leasttryto talk meout of it. But… seeing that duffle this morning, and realizing how easy it was for him to let me go… He’s a fighter—it’s what he does; it’sallhe does—and he didn’t fight for me. No one ever has.

It hurts so much.

“What makes you think that?” she demands incredulously.

My nose is starting to drip, but it feels too undignified to sniffle at this exact moment. “Because if he wanted me to stay, he would have… said something, or done something so I’d understand. I was honest with him about my reasons for wanting to leave—why couldn’t he have told me that we’d find another way? I feel like he didn’t even try to convince me.”

She lifts both hands and covers her eyes, rubbing harshly. It makes me bristle, even before she groans, “The two of you are going to give me an ulcer. You’re so stubborn.” She levels her index finger at my face. “That is a total cop-out.”

“What? Why?”

“Girl, be so fucking for real—that man is repressed. They all are. Theykill peoplefor a living. You don’t get into that business because you’re in touch with your emotions. Take Mac, for example. He didn’t reason with me to get me to live with him, he—” she cuts off abruptly, cheeks flushing. “Never mind, bad example.”

“He what?”

Her cheeks stain redder. “Let’s just say it wasn’t a calm, pleasant, um…face-to-faceconversation. But anyway, my point is, of course Dimitri wants you to stay. I’ve never seen him like he is with you. He loves you,” she repeats, louder, as if volume was the reason it didn’t land the last time she said it. “Don’t you love him?”

I sigh.

Again, she sees the answer on my face. “Nicole, what are you doing?!” she cries.