I joined Kon in telling Niko it wasn’t safe and that you should only touch scorpions if an adult says it’s safe. “Either Mama or...” I trailed off before the word ‘dad’. Niko hadn’t said it, Kon hadn’t said it. It felt like an elephant in the room, one we were doing a terrific job at ignoring. “Either me or your father.”
Natalia raised her eyebrows but restrained herself from saying something.
Dinner that night was filled with laughter and joy. Natalia told us elaborate stories of her adventures back home, detailing all the parties and people she met–with some adjustments for the sake of the toddlers. She answered all Niko’s questions about bugs excitedly, the two bonding over their love for the outdoors.
After the meal, we parted ways. The children wanted to run around outside so I packed them into their winter coats and set them free on the grass. Natalia and Roman joined them, kicking around a ball and throwing them into the air.
Konstantin was pulled away into discussions about Tatiana, but he pressed a kiss to my forehead as he went. “I’ll see you later,” he said.
“And we’ll finish our conversation.”
He didn’t reply but his expression told me what he thought about my persistence.
Konstantin was king, the Pakhan. His authority and decisions weren’t to be questioned. But I wasn’t one of his little Vory or canine guardians; if I wanted to say something I’d say it. The man I loved could bite but I had fangs too.
A ball went flying into Roman and he doubled over in pain as it hit its target. For a second, I thought he might vomit but then he yelled, “Who kicked that!”
Natalia and the children scattered, their laughter piercing the night.
He wobbled over to me, collapsing on the grass by my feet. “Got me right in the dick,” he grumbled. “Right in the fucking dick.”
I crouched down beside him, showing both my amusement and empathy. “Aw, you were taken down by a toddler.”
Roman glared at me, hand still cupping his balls. “Fuck off, sister.”
Sister. I held the word carefully in my mind like it was a baby bird in my palm. Three years ago, Roman had called me sister for the first time. It was the first time someone had ever expressed enough love for me to give me a familiar title. From Roman, it was a term of endearment and a sign of proof about how he had accepted me into the family.
Growing up, my cousins had never treated me like a sister. I was the weird awkward girl who could do the older kids’ homework and came to dinner with twigs in her hair. I didn’t care for them either, to be fair. They were boring and dumb, pretending to be scary because they were big–I had a body count before elementary school. I wasn’t afraid of any of them.
“Have you forgiven me for leaving?” I asked.
“I forgave you the moment you leaped from a tree onto Konstantin like a big cat,” Roman said. His dark eyes glinted in the darkness. “You’re my family. I love you no matter what. Even when you’re acting like a bitch, which is always.”
I turned my head to hide my smile. “I never thanked you.”
“For what?”
“For believing me when no one else did. Not even Konstantin.”
It was Roman’s turn to look away. We were both thankful to the night for its darkness–we were able to hide our wet eyes and trembling bottom lips.
Droplets began to fall from the sky. Soon the ground was slick with mud and we were soaked to the bone. The children didn’t run inside, instead drawing dirt on their faces like war paint. Roman and I joined them in their game of tag, racing around the garden until we looked more like swamp monsters than humans.
In a trickster’s move, I scooped Nikolai into my arms before he tagged Evva. He cried out, laughing too hard to say anything. I cradled him in my arms like I used to do when he was a baby.
“Are you happy?” I cooed.
He stopped laughing, his eyes bright like a pair of stars. “Yes, Mama. I’m happy.”
26
Elena Falcone
The sun bled over the sky in pink and gold as the new day began. I curled up beneath the window, book in lap. The words had been forgotten in exchange for watching…not the beautiful horizon waking up but instead Konstantin and Nikolai. They slept peacefully as the room began to lighten, Niko’s head resting in the crook of Konstantin’s arm. Both wore identical expressions, and both had bedhead. They had never looked so alike.
Home.
The word sat in my mind like the bulb of a flower, blooming every time I saw my son and the man I loved.
Home, home, home.
I was finally home.
Konstantin’s eyes peeled open, the dark irises latching onto me immediately. A slow sleepy smile grew over his face.
“How long have you been up?” he grumbled as he rubbed his eyes.
I leaned my head against the wall, affection warming my chest as I watched him. “Just for a couple hours.”
“You didn’t wake me?”
“And risk interrupting my peace and quiet?”
“Cruel woman.” Konstantin lifted his head, spotting Niko asleep in his arms. His entire expression softened, looking at our son with such love and devotion that I fell in love with him all over again that quiet moment. “He’s drooling.”
“He was snoring before.”
“Little devil.” Kon kissed him on the head before carefully moving his arm. Niko didn’t stir as his father rolled out of bed, just burying himself into the warm space left behind.
“You’re not tired?”
He approached me. I tilted my chin up he looked down at me, the air leaving my lungs as his presence loomed around me. Tattoos gleamed in the golden light, the images of knives and scars and serpents looking more menacing.
I pressed a kiss to his chest, right over the head of a snake.
Kon ran his fingers through my hair. “Let’s go outside,” he said softly.
“It’s too cold.”
“I’ll keep you warm.”
I thought back to the dawns before I had met Konstantin. The cold had never bothered me, most days I could hardly feel it. I could feel the chill now, feel it wriggling into my bones as the dew melted off petals in the morning light. It was funny. Almost like learning to love, learning to care more about myself also allowed me to feel the cold…and feel warmth.
I took Kon’s outstretched palm, linking my fingers with his.
“What does mud mean?” He pressed a kiss to the word.
“Sticky mixture resulting from dirt and rain.”
His eyes gleamed. “Not the literal definition, lyubimaya. What does mud mean to you?”
Niko’s words danced around my mind. Yes, Mama. I’m happy.
“Something Niko said to me when we were playing outside.”
“Before you trekked dirt throughout the house?” Kon smiled faintly. “You’re both going to get sick.”
I could already feel a headache coming on and my sinuses clogging, but I wasn’t about to admit that. “We’ll be fine.”
He shook his head, holding back his laughter so he didn’t wake up our son.
We ventured outside, careful not to slam doors or make too much noise. The house was quiet in slumber, and only Babushka was awake. She sat on the windowsill by the front door, guarding us while we slept. Her tail swayed in irritation when she saw us, but she didn’t object when we slipped out the door.