Page 64 of Brutal Secrets

There’s a groan, and then a little voice pipes up. “I’m not a man.”

“Sausages and pancakes wait for no kid either. Come on. You’ve got five minutes.” Dex strides over to Kesera, who is curled on the bed. “Breakfast order for me to bring back?”

She opens one eye. “Whatever you pick is fine. Can I sleep a bit longer?”

“We leave in ninety minutes at oh-seven-thirty.”

“Kay.” She sits up when Nadia squeals as Dex tickles her. He swings the little girl over his shoulders before setting her on her feet and handing a sweatshirt to her. Nadia stares up at him sleepily.

“Pull that on and brush your teeth, and then we can get going. If we’re on the road by seven-thirty, we’ll be there before nightfall and you can all relax.”

“Is there a TV?” Nadia asks.

“Sure, kiddo. I bet there’s a TV, but only for little girls who brush their teeth and eat their breakfast,” Dex says, taking Nadia by the hand and pushing her into the bathroom before heading to the door. “I’ll wait outside. Send her my way.”

The door slams behind him, and we’re alone in the room for a moment.

Kesera sits up, brushes the hair out of her face, and rubs her eyes. Mornings with a woman are a foreign country. I don’t know what the rules are.

But if we have an hour . . .

My eyes follow Nadia as she skips out of the bathroom and bounces toward the door. “Do you want me to bring back pancakes, Daddy?”

I walk toward her and put my hand gently on her head. “Sure. Whatever you like, you can get for me.”

She beams up at me like me being happy with the same breakfast order holds the secrets to world peace. “That’s great. I’ll get you the best stuff.”

Upon seeing her smile, a tight knot in my chest unfurls and I breathe more easily.

I let the door swing closed and walk back to the bed as Kesera emerges from the covers, somehow even more beautiful when she’s untouched by the day. Instead of meeting my eyes, she crosses the room to a black duffle bag and begins to rifle through it. I walk behind her to put my hands on her shoulders. Freezing, she stops and then stands, her back against me. Her body quivers.

Pulling her closer, I whisper into her hair. “You smell of jasmine and roses. I remember thinking it strange that you smelled of spring flowers when we were surrounded by snow.”

I lift her hair and breathe in the scent of her neck, pressing a line of kisses up to her ear. She sighs and leans her neck against me and looks up. I fall into the green water of her eyes. She stares for a moment, and then her dark lashes lower and she sighs.

“Zolotaya.” I don’t have the right words. “What can I say to make you feel better?”

“You can say that you’ll stay forever and we’ll all live happily ever after.” She chuckles as if she knows it’s a joke.

I pause and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her body into the shelter of mine. “There’s no one else in the world I would rather be with. But this is bigger than us.”

I want to swing her into my arms and carry her to the bed like a bride, but one arm is still bandaged up. Instead, I lead her gently to the mattress and lie down beside her, watching the soft morning light glinting off the gold of her curls.

“I’m afraid.” She smiles sadly. “Not of what you’ll bring to my door. Of how I’ll feel once you’re gone.”

“I’m here now.”

She puts her hand on my shoulder and stills.

I can’t tell if she’s pulling me closer or pushing me away, so I lay my hand over hers and ask, “Is an hour long enough to show you?”

“Show me what?”

“All the things I don’t have the words for.”

A strand of bronze-and-gold hair lies across her mouth, catching the sunlight. I brush it away and trace the shape of her pout with my fingers before I lean down, pressing my lips to the side of her mouth, her chin, the fragile skin of her eyelids. I have never kissed anyone so slowly. I bury my fingers in her hair, just breathing her in before I move my mouth against hers, sliding my tongue between her lips. She wraps her arms around me, tracing my muscles through the soft cotton of my shirt.

Her lips are so soft. Her hair is a cloud of sunshine. I’m inhaling her as if she’s as necessary as air.