He tied the gossamer thread of the ornament and hung it on an uppermost branch in front of a golden light. It glowed, ethereal and warm, shrouding the nearby angel in forest-green. He thought about snapping a picture and sending it to Sacha, but given the circumstances of his absence, it didn’t seem appropriate, though considering it gave him a reason to check his phone again. Sacha still hadn’t been online, and Jonah’s earlier message remained undelivered. Logic reasoned he was away from home without means to charge his phone, but worry gnawed at Jonah’s heart all the same. He stared at the green prism a moment longer, before he went to bed with one thought on his mind.
Please be okay.
17
Jonah woke with a gasp, pulse slamming. He brought a hand to his chest, as if he could press his thudding heart back in, and sucked in a long breath, searching his darkened bedroom for whatever had startled him awake. The Christmas tree twinkled from the hallway. Along with never forgetting to turn it on, it seemed he now neglected to turn it off at night.
Brilliant. Perhaps it was the green cast of Sacha’s prism that had invaded his sleep. It made sense, as it was the only difference in his apartment in the three consecutive nights he’d woken in a cold sweat.
Three nights, and three long days since news from Russia seemed to have wiped Sacha from the face of the earth. No one had heard from him, not even Helga—unless she’d chosen not to tell Jonah, but given her concern for him a few days ago, that made no sense.
Unless he asked her not to.
Jonah rubbed his eyes, still breathing hard. Out of habit, he checked his phone, bracing himself for the blank screen, and then the scratchy, sinking feeling as he scowled at the single grey tick on WhatsApp, letting him know the message he’d sent Sacha three days ago still hadn’t delivered, but—
What the—? Jonah sat up sharply, bedsheets slipping down his bare torso. The screen wasn’t blank. It was lit up with three missed calls, all within the last ten minutes. Sacha. Fuck.
How the hell did I sleep through that?
Frantic, Jonah jabbed the screen, calling Sacha straight back. It rang and rang and rang, and for a heart-stopping moment he feared he’d missed his chance. That it would go to voicemail like it had a dozen times over the last few days.
Then a rustling sound broke the deadlock, and a heavy sigh, like a weighted heart blowing smoke at the moon. “Jonah Gray.”
Jonah sagged with relief. “Finally. I’ve been calling you for days. Are you okay? Where the hell are you?”
“That is lot of questions for the middle of the night.”
“You weren’t asleep,” Jonah retorted. “You called me.”
“I did.”
“So?”
“So you told me to call you if I needed something.”
“What did you need?”
“You, Jonah. Your voice. I needed to hear it, if only for a moment.”
An emotion Jonah couldn’t describe rushed over him. “It doesn’t have to be a moment. I have time.”
“No, you don’t. It is late. You have to work tomorrow.”
“I have to go to the office. I don’t actually have much to do as we’re about to shut down for Christmas. Besides, you haven’t been concerned with me losing sleep every other time we’ve communicated in the middle of the night.”
“We were naked?”
“Probably. Do I have to keep my clothes on to make you care about me?”
“I do care about you.”
“Why? We’re not friends, remember?”
Another weary sigh crackled the line. “And yet here we are,” Sacha said. “You should not listen to me. Perhaps I am not a good judge of what we should define ourselves.”
“You would leave it up to me?”
“Maybe. I was thinking of that before, but now my head is so full I cannot think of much at all.”
“I’m sorry about your father.”
Sacha inhaled a soft breath. Jonah wondered if he was smoking. He’d never seen it, but Sacha often tapped his fingers like a restless ex-smoker, and he seemed the type.
“Are you okay?” Jonah asked when Sacha didn’t speak. “I know you weren’t close, but—”
“We were not,” Sacha said. “It is a relief that he is gone. I think I should feel bad about that, but I don’t.”
“Was he sick?”
“Yes. For long time. He drank a lot. Smoked a lot. Did not take care of himself.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“Step-siblings. I am not close to them either, but I have to come to Moscow to sign things for them. I will not stay to put him in the ground.”
“You’re in Russia?”
“I am. Does that surprise you?”
“It shouldn’t,” Jonah said. “I can’t explain why it does.”
“You do not need to. You are a good person, Jonah Gray. That is always enough for me, I am sorry if I ever made you feel like it wasn’t.”
Jonah slid out of his bed and to the window. The view made him feel somehow closer to Sacha, even in the silence that stretched between them. “You never made me feel anything. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”
“What on earth for?”
“For complicating things.”
“Jonah.” Sacha’s voice was soft, chiding, almost. “It was complicated from the moment I stepped into that lift and saw you standing there. I knew I would not be able to forget you. That is not your fault. I just wish I was better at all the things you deserve.”
“And what’s that? And, actually, why do you get to decide? Maybe I’m happy enough with a grumpy Russian in my bed who won’t talk to me or admit we really are friends?”
“Happy enough?” Sacha snorted. “That is not a thing. And I know we are friends. I am wearing your bracelet. I have not taken it off since you gave it to me.”
Jonah blew out his own quiet breath. “I thought you’d give it away.”
“To who? You think there is someone I would want to be friends with more than you?”
“I think we sound like twelve-year-olds having this conversation,” Jonah countered. “Can’t we just agree to agree and move on?”
“If you would like that.”
“I would.”
“Can I ask you something, though?” Sacha said. “Now that we are friends?”
In the darkness, Jonah almost smiled, but Sacha’s serious tone gave him pause. “Of course. You can ask me anything.”
“What did that man do to you?”
“Oh.” It was the first time Sacha had referred to William Ratner without referencing his hair, but Jonah was in no doubt of who he meant. “Well, nothing, really, I suppose. He just makes me uncomfortable.”
“He makes you uncomfortable because he did something to you. I saw it on that first night, and then shades of it later, even when he was not there anymore. You do not have to tell me, but do not ever say it was nothing.”
Jonah thought back to every encounter he and Sacha had ever shared and tried to pin point moments where he could’ve given himself away, but it was all such a hazy blur, too many emotions to count. “I didn’t mean it was nothing to me, more that it was a minor incident. I was sixteen. He backed me into a dark corner at the ball that year and shoved his hands down my pants. I fought him off and told him I’d stab him if he didn’t leave me alone. The end.” The words left Jonah in a rush. He thought he was done, but Sacha didn’t speak, and he realised there was more. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he whispered. “Ratner’s from a wealthy family—married with children. It would’ve embarrassed my parents if it had got out, and destroyed his wife, but you’re right, it haunted me for a long time—still does when I have to face him every year and he tries to talk to me like we’re fucking friends. Lily put a laxative in his drink one year just to get rid of him.”