Page 69 of Wicked Refusal

Nikita’s voice snaps me out of it. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” She shrugs. “I could go for hours on end without speaking to a single soul. But then again, I’ve been on pill cocktails since I was eight, so I’m guessing what’s normal for me isn’t normal for you.”

“Pill cocktails?”

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” She shoots me a serious look. “That was a joke. Sorry, I’m not great with delivery.”

It drags a smile from my lips. “Lucky for you, anything you say to me is covered by patient confidentiality. So you don’t actually have to kill me.”

“It’s not a very good story.”

“Neither is the Greek tragedy I’m spinning in my head.”

She leans back against a tree and shoots me a thoughtful glance. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

I start picking at my sleeves. But Nikita’s gaze is unwavering, and in the end, I fold. “It’s just… What if Yulian decides I’m not worth it? That there’s too much drama hanging over my head?”

“Because of your family?”

“And the custody issues. And the shitty ex issues. And the baggage, the panic attacks?—”

“Panic attacks, huh?”

Shit. I hadn’t meant to share that much. Goes to show how thin I’m spread. “I’m a mess, okay?” I summarize. “A real mess. Yulian… he’s already got his plate full. He doesn’t need me piling on.”

Nikita touches her chin, considering my words. “Alright. I’ll tell you the pill story. But only because it relates directly to your Greek tragedy. Bear with me, okay? It’s a long, sad, boring ride.”

“Now, you’ve sold me.”

Nikita laughs. Then she takes a deep, centering breath, and begins. “After Kira died, I started having night terrors. My parents put me on everything: antidepressants, antipsychotics, anti-being-awakes. Took me a while to detox from the stuff I didn’t need. I guess, since I was always a weird kid to begin with, they thought it’d be a good opportunity to fix that, too. Funnily enough, they never thought to splurge on Ritalin.”

I remember having to crush Eli’s meds into his food so that Brad wouldn’t try to take him off of them. Or, worse, put himon something else. Something that would turn him numb and pliant, his perfect little plaything.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “That sounds awful.”

“Eh, it is what it is. Luckily, Yulian was there.”

“Yulian?”

“The second I turned eighteen, he brought me to doctors he trusted. Doctors my family hadn’t bought off. Got a sparkling fresh ADHD-i diagnosis out of that. Half the stuff I was taking got thrown out, the other half replaced with things I actually needed. If Yulian hadn’t been there, I’d still be sleeping eighteen hours a day, nodding along to whatever my parents wanted from me. Hell, I’d probably have been married off within months of my birthday.”

Fuck. Now, I feel like a self-centered asshole. Suddenly, all my bad breaks feel like gifts from the universe. “Jesus.”

“Jesus is right.” She gives me a knowing smile. “But now, you get it, right? Yulian doesn’t throw people away just because they’re hot messes. He helps. That’s who he is. Even though he likes to pretend he’s the big, bad wolf, he’s not. He’s the hunter who cuts you out of the wolf’s stomach and gives you a second shot at life.”

Nikita’s words sink into me, bringing back memories of last year. When I first met Yulian, I thought he was a selfish jerk, only out for himself. But he’s always been helping the people around him, hasn’t he? He’d just rather advertise the bad, keep his good deeds hidden where no one can see them.

It soothes the anxiety in my heart, just a little. Just enough to believe we’ll still have a roof come nightfall.

“Oh, shit. You’re crying.”

“No.” I wipe harder at my eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You know, I’m not a genius at reading social cues, but I’m pretty sure water coming out your eyes qualifies as crying.”

A watery laugh bubbles out my lips.

Nikita frowns. “Okay, now, you’ve lost me.”