The Fixer (Chicago Bratva 2)

“I loved living here,” I admit out loud. I don’t know why I’m sharing. Why I think Maxim would even care.

He glances down at me. “I can tell.”

My breath catches at those simple words. Like he’s been paying attention. What if he did actually care? Or come to care? The thought of it makes my heart race, and my hands grow clammy, like I’m still a teenager.

“I wish I’d come to visit you then.”

I look up. The wind ruffles his sandy hair. He fits in here with his broad shoulders and well-kept body. The expensive button-down shirt open at the collar. He just needs a tan and for his hair to pick up some highlights to look like Californian royalty. “Really? Why?”

One corner of his lips lifts for a moment then quickly fades. “I’ll bet you were something to see.”

I hip-bump him, interrupting our casual pace when he has to side step to recover. “What does that mean?” I demand with a laugh. I’m fishing now—I can’t help it. I’ve always been starved for attention, and here, I’m finally getting some.

“I liked seeing you with your friends.” He lifts our joined hands to his lips and kisses my fingers. “I got to see the real you.”

I’m embarrassed at how clammy my hand gets. How hard my pathetic heart starts pounding.

“I don’t even know the real me,” I find myself saying. It’s the truth although I don’t know where it came from.

“That was the real you,” Maxim says, like he knows for sure. Like he’s seen into my broken soul that quickly. That easily.

“What was?”

“Fun. Lively. The life of the party. But also generous. You’re a good friend—I can tell. You guys support each other. You want the best for each other.”

I think of my jealousy over Kayla’s career and feel a pang of guilt.

As if Maxim reads my mind, he says, “You wish you were still here. Living with them.”

The words are unexpected, and they bring up buried emotion. My eyes get hot and wet. I blink rapidly, tossing my hair in the breeze and pretending a little sand got in them. “Staying here was never an option.” My voice only chokes a little. “I knew I was on borrowed time the entire four years I was here. I was lucky Igor let me come at all.”

“He loved you,” Maxim says simply.

This time the unexpected hot tears come as a flood. Two streak down my face before I can catch them. “Gospodi,” I mutter, swiping at them with the back of my free hand. “I don’t know about that.”

“He did. He was a shitty father in many ways, but you were his only child, and he did love you very much.”

“His form of love sucked, then,” I say bitterly, but guilt fills my chest. It’s not entirely true. I have memories of him swooping me up into his arms as a little girl. Tossing me into the air. Making me laugh. Bringing over presents and sweets. I used to look forward to his visits like he was freaking Santa Claus. But that’s fucked up. He should have been my dad, not some magical godfather who showed up when he wanted and bought my love. I lived for his attention because I didn’t have it often enough.

Maxim shrugs. “I’m sure it could’ve been better. Could’ve been worse, too. He was who he was. My mother was a lying cunt who tricked me into waiting for her for years. She should’ve done better, but she didn’t. Igor gave me more in comparison. So he had my loyalty.”

I’m awash in cold at Maxim’s words. Honored that he shared this sliver of his true self with me. His broken self. I knew there had to be a story about why he served my father so loyally. Everyone seemed to have one.

“Your mother tricked you?” I ask softly.

Maxim looks past me to the ocean as he takes easy steps, our feet sinking into the softer sand. “When she brought me to the orphanage, she told me she’d be back. To be good. And so I waited. I waited for years. Until I finally got smart enough to figure out she’d suckered me. Ruined by women’s lies seems to be a theme with me.” He throws me a meaningful glance, and my insides tumble. My body goes hot and cold wishing I’d never ruined his life the way I did.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” He cuts me off with the harsh syllable. Like he just showed me too much and regrets it.

I don’t dare speak even though my breath hangs in my chest, suspended. Needing to come out in a rush.

After an excruciating moment, Maxim saves me by going on. “I ran away from the orphanage at fourteen and tried to make it on my own. I did all right. Learned to pickpocket and slept in an empty building I broke into.