Page 129 of Wicked Proposal

“Yeah. Guess it did.”

We go back to silence for a while. I keep an ear out for Eli’s nightmares, but for once, they seem to be leaving him alone.

“You’re worried,” Yulian guesses, following my gaze.

“Not more than usual.” I force a small smile. “It’s gotten better lately. He has them less and less. But last year…”

His hand touches my shoulder. Without thinking, I lean into its warmth. “Tell me,” he says, but for once, it doesn’t sound like an order. “If you want.”

And suddenly, I realize I do want to tell him.

“It’s not much of a story,” I exhale. “Eli was three. I’d just gotten hired at the hospital, with an actual contract and all. Before that, I was pulling triples at several nursing homes, but it was almost all off-the-books. Getting a real job at the hospital—it was like a dream.” I take another sip, then sigh. “But I was still on probation. Even a small mistake, and I could have lost it.”

Yulian nods. “Go on.”

Somehow, his voice grounds me.

“I was at work that night,” I say. “I’d gotten a sitter for Eli, of course. It was this seventeen-year-old girl Dorothy, the daughter of a neighbor. She could use a few bucks, and I could use the convenience of ten dollars an hour. She’d watched Eli before. But that night…”

“She bailed,” Yulian realizes.

“Yeah. Texted me halfway through my shift, said she had to go pick up a friend, that it was an emergency. It was past midnight—I couldn’t possibly find someone else.”

“And you couldn’t leave.”

“They’d have fired me so fast.” Tears bubble up at the corners of my eyes, but I wipe them away. “In hindsight, that’s what I should’ve done. It would have been hard on us, but still better than what happened.”

“The fire?”

I nod tightly. “I told myself Eli was asleep, that I’d be back before he woke up. He wouldn’t even realize I was gone. But then the shift ran long, and by the time I made it home, he’d gotten hungry.” I give Yulian a watery smile. “He tried to make himself pancakes.”

I can see it in Yulian’s eyes—the second the horror dawns. “The stove.”

“Eli said a rug had caught on fire. He’d tried to toss it out the window, but then the curtains caught fire, too. He was smart enough to run to Dorothy’s place and tell them what happened. The family called 911.” I bite my lip. “Dorothy was passed out drunk in her bed. But she was technically a minor, so…”

“So the blame fell on you.”

Yulian’s hand squeezes my shoulder. Guilt pierces me—for what happened back then, for what’s happening now. For leaning on this man who owes me nothing.

“When I came back,” I rasp, “I still didn’t know any of this. I just saw smoke rising from my window. The fire department was on the scene. I had to be held back by neighbors because I tried to run inside. I thought my kid was still in there, you know?”

There’s no use fighting back the tears now. But Yulian simply hands me a tissue, not leaving me for a second.

“Thanks,” I whisper. “Anyway, then the police came. And then there was Child Protective Services. It all happened so fast. It’s a miracle I didn’t lose him—to the fire or to them.” I blow into the tissue and crumple it. “Wanna know what the worst part is?”

“Tell me.”

“Eli blames himself. Even now, he still does. Every time he wakes up, all he does is apologize tome.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Yulian remarks.

It almost makes me laugh. Almost.

“I’d spent years thinking Eli would be better off with me. That I’d be a better parent than Brad. And then, when that happened… It just made me feel so arrogant. Because I knew something like that never would have happened on his watch.”

“You don’t know that.” Now, Yulian’s closer than ever. “In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve always put your son first. And that man…” His fist clenches at his side. “He hurt you.”

I don’t deny it. I can’t.