Page 20 of Monstrosity

"Earth to Rio," Dasha says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. "You disappeared on us there."

"Sorry. Just thinking."

"About what?"

About how much I love you.

About how terrified I am of losing you.

About how I'm going to kill anyone who tries to hurt you.

"About how good this is," I say instead. "All of us together like this."

Her smile is soft, understanding. "It is good, isn't it?"

"The best."

We linger over dessert—gelato for the girls, tiramisu that Dasha and I share even with her protests that she's too full.

The wine has loosened some of the tension in my shoulders, and for a few minutes, I almost forget about the threats and surveillance and the war we declared this morning.

Almost.

The drive home is quiet, both girls dozing off in their car seats while soft music plays on the radio.

Dasha's curled in the passenger seat, bare feet tucked under her, watching the city lights blur past.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

"For what?"

"For including me. For letting me be part of this." She gestures vaguely at the sleeping girls, at the space between us. "I know it's complicated, with their mom and everything. But this... us... it means everything to me."

My hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Dasha?—"

"I know we haven't talked about what this is," she continues, voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm not asking for promises or declarations. I just need you to know that whatever this is between us, I'm all in. Completely."

The words hit me, hard.

Here she is, offering me everything I want, and all I can think about is how loving me might get her killed.

"You shouldn't be," I say quietly. "All in, I mean. You should run. Find someone normal who can give you the life you deserve."

"And what if I don't want normal?" She turns to face me fully. "What if I want complicated and messy and real? What if I want you?"

I pull into our driveway, the familiar sight of home doing nothing to ease the turmoil in my chest.

The porch light is on—I always leave it burning when we're out—and the house looks peaceful, safe.

"We should get the girls inside," I say, avoiding her question because I don't trust myself to answer it honestly.

"Rio." Her hand touches my arm, stopping me from getting out. "Look at me."

I do, and the raw emotion in her eyes nearly undoes me.

"I know you're scared," she says. "I know what happened to Flora traumatized you. But I'm not her, and this isn't five years ago. You can't protect me by pushing me away."

"I can try."