Until the End (4 page)

“That’s why you were so angry at Thanksgiving, wasn’t it?”

Sometimes, Lauren couldn’t believe how blind she had been. All the signs of who Mishca was were there for her to see, yet she was still surprised when Ross had revealed the truth to her.

When Susan had come to New York for Thanksgiving, Lauren should have suspected something then. It was their awkward demeanor around each other that was a clue, and then there was the fact that Susan had called Mishca by his name before Lauren had even introduced them.

“Yes. It was the first time I had seen a Volkov since the day I learned what your father really did when he went out of town. It brought it all back up again.”

“And now? You act as though you don’t blame them anymore.”

What Lauren wasn’t saying was that much of her anger stemmed from the loss that Susan had suffered as well.

“I can’t blame your father,” Susan said, but it was what she said next that made Lauren stiffen. “It isn’t Mishca’s fault either.”

“Yes, it is,” Lauren said nodding, staring down at a nick in the floor. “He’s a part of it.”

Sighing, Susan folded her hands. “I do not want you to blame him because you think I want you to.”

“I’m not.”

“You think Mishca is responsible.”

“Well, of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Lauren asked, her brows drawing together in confusion.

“Because he was only a child,” Susan replied reasonably. “It took me a long time to come to terms with that fact. I don’t want you harboring that same anger. If you want someone to be angry with, be angry with Viktor.”

“Why are you advocating for Mish? You don’t even like him.”

“I may not agree with his lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I dislike him.”

Blowing out a breath, Lauren stood, going over to stand by the window, watching the cherry blossoms billow outside in the wind.

“What does it matter now anyway?” She asked.

She thought of what Mishca had said in the hotel room, how angry he was when he learned the truth behind the lies his family kept, and how her revelations had affected his sister. She could still see the fire in his eyes when she thought back on that day.

“Lauren, you’ve been in this room for nearly a month and a half. The only time you leave is to eat. It matters because Ross and I are watching you slip away a little bit more every day.”

“I don’t know what to say to that. How
should
I be acting? First, I find out that my boyfriend is in the Mob, not just an errand boy, but a high-ranking member, then I find out that his uncle is the one that facilitated my father’s murder. I’m a little proud that I’m doing this well.”

“If I thought it was just about your father, I wouldn’t bring it up.”

“What do you want me to say, mom?” She asked looking back at Susan, annoyed with herself because it felt like the only thing she knew how to do anymore was cry. “Even without everything that’s happened. We could never be together.”

“Come back and sit down,” Susan said patting the spot next to her. “I want to tell you a story.”

Lauren did as she commanded, folding her legs beneath her as she faced her mother.

“This was your father’s ring,” Susan said wistfully, holding it out for Lauren to take. “Before the wedding, he had both of our rings engraved with a saying.
Until the end
. It was Cameron’s promise. No matter what situation we may have found ourselves in, we promised to stick by each other—”

“Until the end,” Lauren finished for her.

Seeming satisfied, though Lauren didn’t grasp what she was trying to tell her, Susan stood, pressing the necklace into Lauren’s hand, going over to stand by the door.

Lauren clutched it, looking to Susan. “What are you saying?”

“We can’t help who we fall for and sometimes it may seem like they’re the worst possible choice, but even I can’t deny what I saw between you and Mishca.”

“But he lied to me, about everything,” she whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

“Then be angry with him for what he did do, not for what he had no control over.”

Lauren didn’t get a chance to respond to that as the front door open and shut, Ross announcing his arrival with a call up to them. Susan went down first, Lauren promising to be down in a minute.

She needed a moment to think.

Lauren could deal with the anger, it was the easiest to feel, but the rest of it was what she couldn’t make sense of. It seemed like Susan wanted her to forgive Mishca, but there was so much that was said and done that she couldn’t just let it go over night.

Putting it out of her mind for the time being, Lauren traveled downstairs, seeing the new building supplies near the door to the basement. Ross hadn’t gotten the boat they’d talked about, instead he chose to build one from scratch.

She
really
had to talk him out of watching Crime TV with Susan.

The back door was open, the smell of burning charcoal carrying through the door. The unnecessarily large grill that Ross was manning took up nearly the entire deck, smoke billowing up into the air.

He held a fork in one hand, flipping steaks as he tipped his beer up, taking a few long swallows before wiping his brow with his forearm. He was off his crutches though one foot was still in a brace. He had even begun growing his hair out, finally letting go of the strict cut he had been wearing since his time in the army.

Looking over his shoulder, Ross flashed his crooked grin. “Returning to the land of the living?”

Laughing, Lauren grabbed one of the chairs, moving it over to the shade. “Your one to talk. If you’re not sawing away at that boat, I don’t see you.”

“Touché.”

While Ross readied the steaks, Susan made potato salad in the kitchen, both keeping Lauren far from any of the food. They talked, steering clear of any tough subject—
one
tough subject.

When the food was ready, they set out plates on the table. Since the sun was setting, the temperature had decreased enough for them to sit outside.  After saying Grace, Susan looked to Lauren.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do once you go back?”

Lauren glanced quickly at Ross before answering. “Same thing I was doing when I first got there. Concentrating on school and work.”

Ross nodded. “Good. I’ve talked to Rodriguez. He’s promised to look out for you if you ever need anything. Mishca won’t be bothering you.”

In a quiet voice, Lauren said, “Mishca.”

Ross grunted, focusing solely on his plate as he pushed his food around. It was no secret that there was no love lost between him and Mishca, especially with the events that transpired a few months ago.

And that was another thing that Lauren thought about constantly. Even if she did think about trying for something with Mishca—not that she did—there were so many obstacles standing between them. Their families would never accept them together.

“Whatever his name is.”

For some reason, though she had just voiced her doubts with Susan, Lauren spoke up for him. “He’s not the one I’m worried about.”

Narrowing his eyes on her, Ross got that scrutinizing look on his face. “Don’t even think about it. He’s not who you thought he was.”

“Thomas—”

“No, Susan, she needs to understand. This isn’t one of those romance books where everything gets wrapped up nicely in the end.” He dropped his fork on the plate, sitting back to look at Lauren. “I thought that by giving you space, it would help, but you’ve been locked away in that room and I can only imagine what ideas you might have come up with. I know these type of men, I’ve dealt with them before. They’re killers with zero remorse.”

“The hour I spent talking to Mikhail was enough to convince me of the type of men they are,” Lauren said bitterly, making them fall silent.

Lauren was staring down at the table, tears of frustration blurring her vision. Ross reached out, laying his hand over hers.

“I just want what’s best for you,” he said gently. “Even if you can’t see that yet.”

Pushing back from the table, Lauren extracted her hand. “I’m going to go check on my registration date.”

They didn’t stop her from leaving though she had barely touched her food. Even as she walked away, she heard Susan whispering quietly.

At six a.m., while the house still slept, Lauren silently dressed, grabbing the keys to the tiny Kia outside. Susan and Ross had gotten together to buy her the car, giving her a means of transportation to get around, and for when she wanted to come home.

She headed into town, stopping by the local florists’ shop, run by an elderly couple. After a few pleasantries, they put together an arrangement of white tulips and an assortment of other flowers, ones that conveyed exactly how Lauren was feeling. As she was leaving, they both gave her sympathetic smiles.

By the time she got to the cemetery, it was still dark out, a bank of fog making it hard to make out any of the gravestone, but Lauren knew the route like the back of her hand.

Two aisles down, four rows up, second to the left.

Her father didn’t have a headstone, rather a ledger stone, one that was set into the ground. Lauren knew what it said, had read the words plenty of times over the years, but every single time since she realized how final those words were, tears formed in her eyes. It never got easier, but while there was residual pain, there was still a level of comfort that being here brought.

Setting the flowers on the ground for the moment, she took the time to take out the older ones since they looked like they’d been there for a few weeks, and brushed away a few stray leaves. Placing her own arrangement into the pot, she fanned them out, twisting them in every direction until she was satisfied.

But no matter how long she tried to hold off, she knew she would have to face it.

The grass was slightly damp, wetting the knees of her jeans as she tucked her legs beneath her. Finally, when she couldn’t wait any longer, she read the words.

CAMERON ISAAC THOMPSON

JUNE 1, 1962 - NOVEMBER 15, 1997

LOVING HUSBAND AND FATHER

Even still, the numbness she had grown accustomed to was cracking again, the fissure growing so large that it took everything within her not to breakdown.

The guilt was too much.

It felt wrong, being here, knowing that she had consorted with the very men that stole his life. Coming here hadn’t just been for sentimental reasons, but because she wanted a reminder why she should stay away from Mishca, what his life would lead her to, but no matter how hard she tried, she found an excuse.

The biggest one of all?

At the time of her father’s death, Mishca had only been nine years old, a child himself.

The only thing she knew for sure was that he knew her father had died, but he looked just as surprised that day she told Mikhail that she believed he
hadn’t
known—and there was no doubt Mikhail didn’t.

If she wanted to blame Mishca, why not blame herself? While he had been hundreds of miles away, she had been in the closet mere feet away. She could have done something, anything to stop Viktor and his men.

Susan’s words came back to her then.

It was no one’s fault but the person that took his life.

She wished she could believe that.

“I wish we’d had more time,” Lauren whispered touching the sides of the stone. “I don’t…I don’t blame you. I just want to know why.
Why
would you work for people like them?”

No matter how long she sat there, she knew she would never get an answer, but it felt good to ask the question anyway.

“I moved to New York,” she said suddenly. “I guess you know that, but I feel like I haven’t really moved forward. What would you say if you knew I’m still undeclared?”

She laughed, tracing the letters of his name. “I did pretty well with my volunteer work at the hospital.”

A sudden breeze blew, ruffling Lauren’s hair. It was only for a second, just enough to make her smile.

In that moment, she knew how to move forward.