Firebird (The Firebird Trilogy #1) (19 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Stephanie

Dave stared down his nose at her and pushed a copy of the
City Paper
across his desk. Opened to the sports section, the page flaunted a lurid headline:
‘Volynsky’s Dangerous Distraction?’
, and a photo of her, from the back, as Alex pressed his glove to the glass.

“Is this or is this not you?”

“I was at the game.”

He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled on his belly. “Let’s be straight with each other, Steph. It’s your right to be with whomever the hell you want. People spend too much time sticking their noses in other people’s business. But you know, journalistically, this is a huge conflict of interest. If you were having a relationship before your story came out, I should’ve known about it so I could reassign you.”

“Dave, it’s a long story, but I can explain—”

“Our whole reputation here is under fire. Every story we run from now on will be questioned because of this. Especially if the story comes from you. Is it true he bought you a car? A ring? Did you ask for the story just to get close to him?”

“What?” She curled her fingers into fists. “Do you think he does that for every woman he’s involved with? He’d be fucking broke!”

“It kills me to do this, Steph, but you’re fired. Please get your things and go.”

Tears splashed her cheeks. Her entire world was crashing down around her. No point in trying to be strong anymore; she was human. “Yes, we had a relationship, and I meant to tell you—”

“You need a letter of recommendation, I’ll write one for you in a heartbeat. Hell, I won’t even tell them you were fired. But we can’t have you here right now. I’m sorry.”

Stephanie trudged to her office, staring at the floor and hyperaware of the whispers behind her like a toxic chemtrail. She put together a Priority Mail box lying beside her desk and scooped everything into it, glancing up when a shadow darkened her doorway.

“Hope his big Russian dick was worth it.” Shawn smirked and sipped from his vintage Supersonics mug.

“Fuck you. Get out of my way.”

He shrugged and leaned against the jamb. The need to cry had evaporated with her tears, supplanted by fury. Stephanie dropped the box, slapped the bottom of the mug so hot coffee splashed the front of his shirt, and drove her knee into his nutsack. Ceramic shattered as Shawn doubled over, screaming, “You crazy fucking bitch! I’ll file charges!”

“Good luck with that. I’ve got so much sexual harassment evidence against you, even Grandpa can’t save your sorry ass.” She collected the box. “My lawyer will be in touch.”

At the front desk, Rhonda shook her head. “Oh, Steph. Sweetie. I’m sorry, but this is bullshit.” She edged around the desk and enfolded Stephanie in her arms. “How come guys never seem to have their ethics questioned when they sleep with someone? Call me, okay? We need a girls’ night soon.”

“We do. Bye, Rhonda.” Stephanie tucked the box under her arm and pushed through the glass doors.

***

She should have expected the pack of hyenas outside his building, snuffling the carcass of their relationship, eager for the first bite. They flocked to her with digital recorders and smartphones, each trying to outshout the last as though any of them had a question she’d condescend to answer, a shred of dignity. Waiting for her to collapse so they could pick her bones clean before reconstructing her into some grotesque tabloid sideshow.

“Let me quote the person you really want to talk to,” she said, elbowing through them to the intercom. “ʻGo fuck yourselves.’ˮ Stephanie slammed the button with the side of her fist despite the keys in her hand. This was not her home, and she did not know the man who lived in it.

“Volynsky residence.” A young woman’s voice.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m Alex’s…I’m Stephanie Hartwell, from
King County Today
.” Until that morning, anyway.
“I need to speak with him, please.”

“One moment.”

The door buzzed and clicked. The same feeling as the day she’d first walked through those doors and stood outside his condo, the same queasiness but none of the optimism and all of the dread.

A woman in scrubs, one of those kids who didn’t have the grades for college and didn’t know what to do with her life except enroll in a CNA program, answered. This one had hit the jackpot. “Yes? May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Alex. Alone.”

Lines in her brow creased her otherwise smooth face. “He’s resting right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, six months’ bed rest, I know. I was there when it happened.” How quickly she was losing patience with someone she had already perceived as a threat, despite her reason for coming in the first place. The girl helped bathe him, dress him. Bonded with him over that intimacy. She would not be able to help her feelings. Just look at him.

Stephanie stifled a wail.

“Ma’am?”

“Let me in, please.”

The girl stepped aside. “He’s in his room. It’s—”

“Believe me, sweetie, I know where his bedroom is.”

Stephanie swore she heard the girl mutter “bitch” under her breath as she trooped down the hallway. She entertained the idea of finding out what agency she worked for and filing a complaint, if only to necessitate Alex finding another nurse. Preferably a large man.

She didn’t bother knocking. Alex was sitting in bed, his right leg propped on several pillows and his reading glasses perched on his nose. A stack of books tottered on the bedside table; another lay open on his lap. Flimsy white curtains concealed the sliding-glass doors to the deck. The one place in the entire condo they hadn’t had sex, and only because it had been too cold. They’d even christened the dining table.

“Cerise, I need more…” His gaze faltered along with his words. “…water.”

He’d almost managed to do it, to captivate her with those green eyes magnified behind the lenses. She steeled herself. “You’ll be happy to know I was fired.”

He crinkled his nose. “Why would I be happy?”

“I don’t know. You seem intent on making my life miserable right now.”

“Stephanie—”

“Whatever. It’s way too fucking late for apologies.” She took a deep breath to cleanse her mind, fortify herself. “My life is completely falling apart. I don’t have a job. I’ve lost everything because of you. I need to figure this out.”

He had expected her to fight. To beg. She could read everything in his expression, hear him whispering in her heart. Whatever despicable creature had corrupted him in the hospital was gone, but he had destroyed her illusion. He was just a man after all, and had only ever been.

“I didn’t stop you from being happy. Everyone has pain. The problem is you won’t take responsibility for any of your own. You have to find happiness in yourself, Alex. Stop putting that burden on me.”

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes blank. His lips quavered. “I’ve lost everything too. You’re all I have left—ˮ

“That’s what I mean. I can’t be all you have. I can’t be the only thing that makes you feel like a human being. I can’t carry that weight.”

“Please don’t leave,” he whispered.

“The thing is, maybe this is what we both need. We’ve been so attached to each other, we don’t know how to function like regular people. Look what it did to you.”

Alex closed his eyes and inhaled several deep breaths. He was grinding his teeth.

“We were so obsessed with the
idea
of being in love, this special thing no one else understood, it got in the way of loving each other like normal adults. This kind of relationship, it destroys people. It’s too much, too fast. It burns us up until there’s nothing left.”

He shook his head. “You know me, Stephanie. You know I didn’t mean what I said—ˮ

“Alex, I love you more than anything, whether you believe that or not.” Tears clotted her voice, determined to strangle her before she could get the words out. “But I
don’t
know you. Not anymore. We have to figure out who we are without relying on each other to define that. We can’t go on thinking all we need to do is fuck and everything will be fine.” She set the keys on the bedside table. “Because it is very much not fine, and we’re not kids anymore.”

The ring.
Stephanie twisted it off and laid it beside the keys.

Alex, his mouth half-open, stared at it then at her. “Please,” he pleaded through a wave of tears. His face crumpled, and though it tore her apart, she schooled her expression into a careful stoicism. “Why won’t you even let me talk?”

“Because you already said everything I need to hear.”

“You’re holding against me things I said on fucking morphine! How is that fair?”

“You’re still on morphine, so what’s the difference?”

“I didn’t
mean
it!” he howled, childlike, as though persistent repetition could make her forget or forgive. As though it would patch her back together and she could disregard the hatefulness. A child’s lie, repeated until it had convinced itself of its truth. The darkness was real, and he’d concealed it well. Too well.

“I have to go,” she whispered.

“Baby, please don’t—” He reached for her before remembering the cast on his leg. “I’m not your fucking father, Stephanie, and neither are you!”

She fled the room before she could hear more.

***

Aleksandr

The front door slammed. He took off his glasses and lowered his face into his hands. In those first minutes of separation, he understood love for the sorrow it was. The clean snap of his heart as if it were bone echoed in his skull. Tears leaked through his fingers and spattered his shorts as he choked on his sobs. He rubbed his eyes and hoped his broken heart would stop fighting for survival. That he would not have to withstand any more of this pain, to which his injury was a candle’s pale flicker in the night.

“Mr. Volynsky, do you—?”

“
Get out!
” he roared. She stared at him before pulling the door shut. The agency had no doubt warned her about him. He ought to wear labels.
Warning: Extremely Volatile. Danger: Contents under Extreme Pressure. Warning: Do Not Irritate.

He swiped his eyes again and took a deep breath to compose himself. “Cerise!”

A timid knock. “Mr. Volynsky?”

“Come in. I want to take a shower. And…I’m sorry.”

She slipped inside and entered the en suite to set up the collapsible shower bench. “A little yelling is nothing compared to some of the things my clients have done.” With his arm over her shoulders, she helped him hop into the bathroom and lowered him to the bench. He pulled off his T-shirt.

“Have they hurt you?” Casted leg or not, his size alone intimidated most people. He depended on her for the next six weeks; he hoped she did not fear him.

“We’ve all been hit or verbally abused at some point. A lot of them aren’t in their right minds, you know. Lift up a little.” She tugged at his shorts and underwear. He obeyed. She inched the plastic cast umbrella over his leg, checked the seal at the top to ensure it was waterproof.

Old men, flaccid and liver-spotted. Dementia. Fat men with diabetes and prosthetic feet. Adults with the IQs of toddlers. Not pro athletes in the prime of their lives. The one most likely to do her harm.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“Should I be?”

“No. I’ve never hurt anyone. Outside of a hockey rink.”
And whom I didn’t love more than my own life.

She started the shower, brought it to his preferred temperature, and handed him the showerhead. Then she sat on the bench by the door and waited for him to finish.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said as the water jets battered his skin like tattoo needles.

She pursed her lips in a way that said she was keeping it strictly business.

“It’s not inappropriate. I promise.”

“I…guess so.”

“Let’s say you had found someone again after a long time apart. And something bad happened, something that changed your lives forever, and things were said that shouldn’t have been. And maybe I was never going to see you again, because I had this stupid idea it was better than you seeing me like…this. What would I have to do to get you back?”

“Let her have her space. You know, if you love someone, set them free? If it’s meant to be, they’ll come back to you.”

He stared ahead at the black tiles. “What if I can’t let go because she’s the only woman I’ve ever loved?”

“That’s very romantic, Mr. Volynsky. Does she know?”

“I thought she did, but…I really fucked things up.”