Page 17

“Okay.” It was all I knew how to formulate. It was all I could say without feeling like I was falling apart myself. There were so many questions about how a baby, Dimitri’s baby, would change our dynamic.

But he was her husband. This was supposed to happen.

“I’m so scared,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“Me too,” I confessed.

She looked up at me, her skates half undone.

“Did we... somehow hurt the baby by skating?”

“I think it’s okay.” She swallowed. Her blue eyes were glistening from tears.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” I didn’t know what to say or how to say that I was sad. Would this be the end of our friendship?

I didn’t know . . .

“Please don’t stop being my friend,” she begged, her arms reaching toward mine. “I’m so scared.”

In that instant, guilt washed over me, making me feel selfish for my emotional response. How could I have forgotten about the bruise I found on her? How could I have thought only about myself and not considered how this might make her feel?

I moved closer and took her trembling hands in mine. “I’m here,” I said softly. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep that promise, even though I’d said it aloud. I wanted her, and watching her raise another man’s baby, especially Dimitri’s, might be the hardest thing I’d ever have to see. But I also knew I wanted her to be safe, and I wanted her in my life.

Her grip tightened. “I don’t want to lose my friend. Everything is going to change.”

She intertwined her fingers with mine as I held my hands out for her, allowing her the space she needed.

“I’m right here,” I whispered. “I have to ask, Anastasia...”

She shook her head. “Please don’t.”

I grabbed her fingers as she tried to pull away. “Are you okay? Is this something you want?”

She nodded. “I want a child. I... just...” She hiccuped as the sobs wracked her body.

“I can help you,” I offered. We had never talked about that night, at least not until now.

Whatever she needed, I was ready to give.

She shook her head again. “No. Dimitri is my husband. You are my friend.” She pulled her hands away from mine and wiped her tears.

I had to respect him, even as I considered if anyone in the Bratva owed me a favor.

She was right. She was his, and the best way to protect her was to be her friend, no matter what.

“Am I... just your friend?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

I moved closer to her and, without thinking, reached up to cradle her face. My fingers caressed her skin. Her deep blue eyes locked onto mine, searching for any sign to pull away, but there was none.

“Answer me, Anastasia,” I whispered, my mouth hovering over hers.

Her pink lips parted, her long lashes fluttering as my heartbeat quickened. I didn’t move, desperate for her to say the words I needed to hear. I needed her to tell me she’d leave him. I needed her to tell me that she could be mine.

I brushed my thumb across her lower lip, feeling its softness.

The air between us crackled with anticipation, every breath we took synced in rhythm.

Her scent, a mix of vanilla and honey, filled my senses, drawing me even closer.

The warmth of her skin beneath my touch ignited a primal sense deep within me.

I had an overwhelming desire to close the distance between us, to claim what my heart already knew was mine.

“No.” She shook her head as if suddenly the trance we were in was broken. “No. Alex. I-I?—”

When she sighed in my arms, the line was drawn in the sand. So, I did the right thing. I pulled away.

“I’m very happy I’m pregnant and that he’s my husband and you’re my friend.”

It felt like a rehearsed response. She would give me these one-liners when she was rushing out of my apartment, always apologizing for coming even though I knew she would be there again. It was as if she was saying it more for her needs than mine.

“Okay.” It was all I could come up with in the moment without feeling like I was going to upset her with the truth.

“I’m due in the winter.”

I swallowed as I turned away. “Right during the season.”

She nodded.

“That’s good.” I needed to get out of here.

I needed a second because everything I wanted crashed down, and my world was no longer full. I was empty, bleeding out from every pore. I needed to breathe, but the air was no longer entering my lungs. I was empty.

“Please don’t?—”

I stopped her, reaching for her chin again, but I shoved my hands to my side and stood. Taking a seat next to her on the bench, facing away from her toward the lockers, I unlaced my skates. Act. Normal.

“I moved out here with my roommate?—”

“Yeah, Layla,” I added, remembering the story she told me about her best friend, who was also an ice-skater and lived up in Los Angeles, grateful that the conversation was being led elsewhere.

“You remembered?”

“Of course. You told me the story of you moving here at one of the first dinners we had together.”

“I am really grateful for you,” she whispered and fumbled with her skates.

“I’m glad we have each other,” I managed to choke out.

There was so much I wanted her to do. I wanted her to run. I would run with her, but how was I supposed to tell her that?

“I’m going to change,” I said once I pulled my skates off, heading toward the showers.

I needed a fucking cold shower, and I needed to leave this place and go out. I needed to get away from the suffocating tension.

“I can wait,” she offered. She held her skates and stood there, both of us chest to chest.

“No.” I turned away from her. I couldn’t say this while looking her in the eye. “I have plans tonight, so I won’t be able to hang out.”

“Oh.” Her voice hitched at the very end. “I didn’t?—”

I peeled off my shirt as I stared at her, replacing the warmth I felt for her with the coolness I was familiar with.

“I-I’m sorry,” she said softly, and I shook my head, desperate to reach out to her again and pull her back in. “If I did something...”

“You did nothing.” I reassured her. “I... have plans.”

She looked down, and I hated how she was falling apart in front of me, but I was also unraveling into a hundred different pieces.

She adjusted her sweatshirt. “Alright then.”

I turned around.

“I guess you’ll miss the shortbread cookies I made this morning.”

No, I won’t, not if you just leave him. I’ll eat everything you make.

That thought was the reason I needed to put up my boundaries. She was pregnant with her husband’s child. I wasn’t my father, so I’d never cross that line with her.

“Guess so,” I managed to say, keeping my tone steady before I walked into the showers.

I heard her shuffle out, and the moment the door shut, I broke down, letting myself feel everything. The past six months of friendship crashed over me, overwhelmed by unexpected feelings I had to stop. She was never mine. She was married.

“Fuck. I think I need to get laid,” I muttered.

I was getting confused and too caught up in my emotions. This wasn’t like me. I hadn’t been with anyone other than my hand in so long that it was messing with my head.

Tonight I was going to fucking let loose. I was going to do everything in my power to not think about Anastasia Sokolov because she’d never wear my last name.