Page 79 of Fight

Twenty-Five

P

I wasn’t dead.

If I had been, my head wouldn’t have been pounding as hard as it was.

I also wouldn’t feel the stitch in my side when I moved, or the stab in my lungs when I coughed.

So, yeah, I had made it.

Ma hadn’t.

Tears welled but didn’t fall as I remembered the look I’d seen on her face, the pure bliss that seemed to have been her last moments. At least she’d had that.

I sat up as fast as I could, welcoming the dizziness, the pain in my body. But I wasn’t prepared for the pain in my heart as I looked at the bedroom that had become so familiar to me, so comforting. Every corner of it told a story, held a memory, but now, when I thought of the happiness I had found in these four walls, in this house, in his arms, I felt only burning shame.

How many times had I warned myself that it wasn’t real, that it wouldn’t last? It hadn’t been, but I’d been too stubborn, too foolish to listen.

Now I would suffer for it.

Good thing I had experience with that.

“You should lie down,” Ioan said from the corner of the room opposite the bed where I had been sleeping.

I’d known he was there, had felt his presence instantly when I’d opened my eyes.

That didn’t stop the pain of loss when he spoke, though. I tried to swallow it down, remind myself I would have to get used to this. But nothing worked, so eventually I stopped trying and stood.

“I need to see to my mother,” I said, my voice thready and woozy as the room started to spin.

“I’ve seen to her. Sit, jefe,” he said, crossing the room to approach me.

I did, told myself that was only to keep from falling and not because he had said so. Ignored the jab in my chest when he used that silly nickname. He circled to the side of the bed where I sat and then crouched down, looking at me with concerned eyes.

“The doctor said you’d be dizzy for a while, but you’ll recover,” he said.

“I know,” I replied, the words coming out more cryptic than I intended but also true.

Ioan nodded, looking lost for a moment, but he quickly recovered.

“Markov?” I said.

“No longer a problem,” Ioan replied.

Though I guessed it wasn’t ideal to be pleased when someone else died, I was undeniably happy he was gone.

“P?” he said, and I turned to face him. “Why did you leave?”

He looked so fucking earnest that I wanted to slap him, felt instant anger sending my blood to boil.

“You’re going to pretend you don’t know?” I said, narrowing my eyes and hoping they would shoot daggers at him.

“I just wished you had waited, heard me out,” he said.

“Asshole. You had a chance to say whatever you wanted to,” I said.

“I needed—”