Chapter 23: Beautiful Scar: Chapter 23

Dasha

I lean on Tigran’s arm as he sweeps me up the front steps of an enormous suburban mansion.

“This place is…” I trail off, genuinely at a loss for words.

“Gaudy,” Tigran says with a deep frown.

“I was going to say really big, but that works too.” I laugh lightly, honestly surprised at the beauty of this place. “Your brother lives here?”

“I grew up here.” Tigran’s frown deepens the closer we get to the front door. “I have a lot of memories in this place. Some fond, most not so much.”

“I’m having a really hard time picturing you growing up in a mansion.” I pause and lean away from him. “Were you a spoiled rich boy?”

He snorts and nudges me with his elbow. “Hardly.”

“I don’t know.” I gesture at the mansion. “You grew up here.”

“We were definitely rich,” he concedes with a tight smile that quickly fades. “But we were far from spoiled.”

I want to interrogate that since it’s so clearly laced with a lot of baggage and trauma, but I don’t get the chance.

Because the door opens, and a little kid comes teetering out, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms like a maniac.

“TIGGIE!” the little boy screams, flailing his arms as he barely keeps himself upright. Tigran has to lunge forward to keep the kid from faceplanting right there on the concrete. “Tiggie, Tiggie, Tiggie!” the boy says, squirming and laughing as Tigran lifts him up and blows a raspberry on his bare belly.

“Roman! Oh, god, you little freaking—” A woman appears at the doorway, flushed and out of breath. She’s pretty with big eyes and a kind face, and she relaxes the second she spots Tigran holding the little toddler. “I was worried he escaped.”

“Just came to find his uncle,” Tigran says, beaming happily. “Roman, are you being a little demon again?”

“Tiggie,” Roman says, laughing away as Tigran tickles him.

I stand back awkwardly, watching. I swear my heart expands like fifty times its normal size. I Grinch the fuck out, swelling up with love watching Tigran hold his nephew and play with him, and some animal part of my brain has a straight-up spasm.

Suddenly, I want fifty kids. A thousand of them. A million, billion⁠—

“You must be Dasha.” The woman walks over and extends her hand. “It’s so good to meet you. I’m Arsen’s wife, Lena, and that little beast is Roman.”

“Nice to meet you too.” We shake, and Lena leads us into the house. Tigran carries Roman, looking happy and relaxed in a way I’ve never seen before, and Roman clings right onto his uncle, chatting away in half sing-song nonsense and half in what sounds like butchered Russian like a koala on meth.

“I’m really happy you two could come out tonight,” Lena says as we gather in a surprisingly warm and inviting kitchen in the far wing of the house. I had pictured something vast and impersonal, especially on the walk over here, based on all the priceless art and the gleaming hardwood floors. But the second we entered what Lena called the family wing, it instantly felt like a normal home. Kids’ toys are scattered everywhere, a bucket of big Legos is upturned in a corner, and a discarded tablet is playing children’s music.

“You have an incredible home,” I gush, unable to help myself.

Tigran’s pulled away by Roman and made to sit criss-cross-applesauce in the middle of the Legos as the little kid brings him toys one by one, explaining each in that little voice of his.

“I can’t take credit, although this part of the house we renovated around when Roman was born.”

“It’s amazing, honestly.”

“Thanks so much. The house is crazy, though. One day I’ll give you a real tour of all the bizarre nooks and crannies. But for now, I’m just really happy you’re here. Want a drink or something?” She starts pouring some wine, and I have to turn her down. Her eyes light up with amusement. “That’s right. You have to get knocked up, huh?”

I feel my cheeks turn red as I nod awkwardly. “I guess that’s the plan.”

“What a family,” Lena says, sighing. She leans on her elbows and swirls her wine. “Feels weird when your children are contractually obligated, right?”

I nod quickly, glancing at Tigran, but he’s not listening. Instead, he’s holding what looks like a rattle covered in fuzz and trying not to get hit in the face with a stuffed raccoon while Roman crawls all over him.

“I was pretty freaked out when we first got married,” I admit, which is a very small understatement. “But I don’t know. It’s not so bad now.”

Lena’s eyebrows raise high. “Not so bad, huh? Does that mean you’re falling for our resident brooding gargoyle?”

I snort and cover my mouth. “Gargoyle?”

“Yeah, you know, all made of stone and a little scary.” She grins even bigger and takes a long drink. “I’m happy for you, though. I mean, my situation was weird too, so I’m extremely sympathetic. If you ever want to talk about it.”

“I do, I mean, I’ll take you up on that sometime.”

“Fantastic. For now, how about I give you that tour of the family wing? Maybe we can talk babies?”

I try not to act too eager as Lena takes me away, her hand through my arm, chatting away about diapers and bath crayons. I almost forget that I’m outside of the house on a social visit for the first time in a very, very long time.

Tigran

“Giraffe.” Roman holds up a stuffed raccoon.

“I’m pretty sure that’s⁠—”

“Giraffe,” he repeats and tries to whack me in the head.

I snarl and duck under it, then grab him and start tickling his belly. He squirms, laughing like crazy, and I could play this game all night. I release him, and he goes off to find another stuffie, at which point he’ll show it off, give it the wrong name, insist that he’s actually right, and then I’ll tickle him until the game repeats on and on.

That little kid’s got so much energy it’s unbelievable, and I’m completely here for it.

“You two are having fun,” Arsen says from over in the kitchen. I don’t know where that guy came from. I swear, sometimes he just appears around this damn house.

“Stop traveling through the walls,” I grunt at him and heave myself to my feet.

Roman whines a bit but gets distracted when a song he likes comes on the tablet. I join my brother for a drink while the kid dances and sings, getting most of the words wrong, and it sounds perfect.

“I guess Lena already commandeered Dasha.” Arsen gives me a knowing grin. “You know what they’re talking about, right?”

“International politics.”

“I was thinking monetary policy, but it’s probably babies. You know, that thing you’re supposed to have?”

“Not for lack of trying,” I grumble and take a long sip of whiskey.

“I take it things are going okay between you two.”

“Better than okay,” I admit, then narrow my eyes when Arsen’s smile gets enormous. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Come on, I’m happy for you. If anyone deserves a win, it’s you.”

“Fuck off.”

“Okay, okay, whatever, I wish you nothing but pain and misery then.” He shrugs, waving his glass in the air. “But your wife, she deserves the world.”

“I fucking know it.” I drink aggressively but lighten up when I glance over at Roman. “It’s kind of a miracle she agreed to come out here, by the way.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“I’m proud of her,” I admit, which is goddamn true. When I first floated the possibility of coming to visit my brother, she instantly got pale and started to make excuses. But the next day, without prompting, she brought it up all on her own. She wants to make an effort, wants to get out of her comfort zone, and it makes me care about her more than I ever thought I could.

That’s the passion I knew she had. That’s the fire in her. She successfully held it at bay for all these years, but slowly, inch by inch, it’s beginning to roar back to life.

Arsen looks like he wants to make a comment but thinks better of it. “I got word from the McGraths,” he says, face getting serious as his voice drops softer. “Liam personally sent me a message. They’re not happy about Ciaran.”

“Then they shouldn’t have tried to blow up my wife,” I say, barely restraining my anger. “It’s hard to feel bad for them.”

“That’s what I said. But Liam insists that Seamus is acting out of turn.”

“You believe that shit?”

“I’m not sure, if I’m honest. I got some strange vibes from him.”

I raise the glass to my lips, considering for a moment. “You think Liam’s losing control?”

“I think there’s more going on with the Irish than we realize.” Arsen’s stare could melt steel. “You’d better be on guard. I’m worried Seamus will try again.”

I return his look with a hungry, wolfish grin. “I hope they fucking do.”

Dasha

Dinner is surprisingly normal. We sit down at the big table in their informal dining room while Roman runs around making squealing noises. The house staff serves this amazing pasta dish to the adults and chicken nuggets with gourmet French fries to the small insane child. He eats like a vacuum cleaner.

“Does he sleep?” I ask Lena, honestly afraid that my kid is going to be just as hyper.

“Drops like a stone,” she says, giving me this look I can’t really parse. “If he didn’t, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead right now.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Nannies are good. Babysitters are good. Anyone that can help share the load is good. But when he slept through the night for the first time and never looked back, that was a miracle.” She stares into space for a moment, then perks up. “But don’t worry. Parenthood is great!”

“Seems great,” I say as Roman releases a war cry and rams head-first into Tigran’s thigh.

Eventually, the child is taken away to bed. We head out onto a gorgeous back patio, and I hear the story of how Lena and Arsen got together.

“They’re sanitizing it,” Tigran remarks, patting my knee lightly.

“We’re leaving out the dirty bits,” Arsen agrees, nodding, and Lena punches his arm.

“Don’t be a prick,” she hisses at him, and he wraps an arm around her shoulder, hugging her close. They kiss, and I swear, they stare at each other with so much devotion it’s incredible.

“Here I am, thinking my story was tough, but it sounds like you two went through it all,” I say when Lena’s done and Arsen gives her a quick kiss to seal the story.

“But it gets better, you know? At least, it did with us. I wouldn’t change any of it for the world.” She hesitates for a second. “Well, maybe less, you know⁠—”

“Violence?” Tigran offers.

“I was going to say blood, but yeah, violence.” Lena shrugs a little, like, blood and gore, what can you do?

We end up sitting outside and talking for a few hours. By the time Tigran drags me back out to where Alexan’s patiently waiting to drive us home, I’m exhausted from laughing so much, but feeling warmer and more relaxed than I have in a long time.

“I’m glad we did this,” I say, leaning on Tigran’s shoulder. The city flashes past us as we head back toward the harbor and home.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, lacing his fingers through mine. “What did you think of them?”

“They seem really happy. And Roman is so cute. Very energetic.”

“Energetic is a good word.” Tigran takes a long breath and lets it out. “I wasn’t sure about Lena at first. I hated her, if I’m honest. I thought she was just getting in the way and causing problems, but now I understand. Arsen needed her. They fit together. And when you find your fit, it’s hard to ignore it, even if you want to.” He looks at me for a long moment, and I feel my stomach twist itself into knots.

“Tigran?” I ask, leaning back to look into his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, pisik.”

“Who’s Natalia?”

Tigran

I don’t speak for a long time. I should have something to say, but words fail me. It’s clear Dasha wants to press, and she probably has every right to keep wondering, but I find myself at a loss.

I haven’t talked about Natalia in a long time, and I know my brother isn’t stupid enough to bring her up.

So how does she even know?

Alexan drops us all back at the house. I head to my room, and Dasha follows. It’s not a question of whether we’ll sleep in the same bed anymore. My thoughts are a jumbled mess as I try to sort out what I want to tell her and how I can make her understand what Natalia meant to me.

I know it isn’t fair to make her wait like this. She’s probably itching to ask more. I just haven’t spoken out loud about Natalia in so long, and I find it hard, even after all these years.

“How do you know about her?” I ask at last while we’re getting undressed.

Dasha pauses and looks over. She’s in shorts and a t-shirt, her hair in a messy bun, ready for bed. “You said her name.”

“When?”

“In your sleep. The night you got hurt, when you took all those painkillers and sleeping pills. You said her name.”

I let out a breath and sit down on the edge of the bed. Fuck, that makes sense. “I dreamed about her that night,” I admit, shoulders slumping forward. “Except it wasn’t her. It was what happened to her, but it was your face.”

“What happened to her?” Dasha asks. She comes over, hesitant and worried.

A few weeks ago, I would have pushed her away. I don’t talk about Natalia. I don’t talk about what happened to my best friend. That was a dark day, a defining moment for the man I’ve become, but there’s something in Dasha’s expression that makes me want to finally open up to someone about it.

She’s so sweet and light. There’s no judgment. Just that scar down her cheek. She knows pain the way I do, and if anyone can understand letting one intense moment of their life keep them prisoner, it’s my pisik.

“Natalia was my cousin,” I say and smile slightly at the relief on Dasha’s face. “Well, second cousin. We were best friends since we were little. She was practically my sister.”

Dasha sits down beside me. She hesitates, but I pull her in closer. I want her near me for this. I want to feel my wife’s warmth against my shoulder and her breath on my neck. Otherwise, I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to tell this story.

“Did something bad happen to her?” Dasha asks very gently.

“We were inseparable,” I say, not ready to get to the ending, not yet at least. “You have to understand, Nat and I spent all our time together. Her parents had a house a few blocks away from the mansion, and Nat would come over every single day before and after school on her bike to play. We took the bus together. We built forts in the backyard, played soccer, got into fights, explored the secret passages⁠—”

“Secret passages?” Dasha’s eyebrows raise.

I wave that off. She’ll find out about those some other time. “We were practically twins. Even as we got older, Nat and I were closer than siblings. She understood me, and I understood her. We just worked together. Until I was fifteen.” I stop talking. I can still feel Nat’s body in my arms, her shoulders against my knees, her blood soaking into my pants and my hands as I desperately pawed at the wounds all over her chest.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Dasha says, gently stroking a thumb down the back of my hands.

I push on. I have to get it out. Otherwise, I’ll be trapped in it, the way Dasha’s trapped herself. “We went out for ice cream. It was as normal as it gets. My dad even came for once. Me, Arsen, Dad, and Natalia. I got vanilla, and Nat made fun of me. She said I had the most boring taste in the world. I don’t even remember what she got anymore. It happened when we were walking back to the car.” I take a breath, falling into the moment the way I’ve done so many times over the years. “The tires screamed. The bullets were so fucking loud. I knew what was happening, but there was nothing I could do. Dad tackled Arsen to the ground and yelled for me to move, and all I could do was fall to the concrete. I don’t know how many times they shot, a dozen, more, it’s all a mess in my head, but the car pulled off, leaving tire marks behind, and that’s when I saw her.”

Dasha lets out a soft whimper as she lifts my hands to her lips. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, kissing them.

“Five times in the chest. She was bleeding all over. I tried to help, but it was too late. I remember Nat tried to say something in the end, her mouth working as she gasped for air. Bloody bubbles escaped her lips. She looked scared. I tried to help, but she was too far gone. She died before the paramedics arrived. She died in my arms, killed by men that were aiming for my father but hit a fifteen-year-old girl instead.”

I don’t tell her one thing. I keep that back, locked up in a corner of my blackened, shriveled heart. The words she whispered, her last words, rasped from bloody lips. I’m scared, Tigran.

We lapse into silence. I’ll never get those words from my head. I’ll never forget the last few pulses of Natalia’s heart. The way the blood stopped flowing. The way she went still.

“I’m so sorry,” Dasha murmurs, hugging me tight. “God, that’s so awful.”

“I think it’s why I’m so obsessed with keeping you safe.” I turn to face her, my beautiful wife, my fierce, incredible kitten. “I should have told you about Natalia sooner, but it’s not easy for me. I don’t talk about her often.”

“I’m just happy you told me now. And I’m sorry I brought it up like this. I feel kind of silly.”

“You thought she was an ex or something?”

“I got a little jealous,” she admits.

I lean in and kiss her. I hold that kiss, letting our lips linger. It’s a possessive kiss, a hungry kiss, and it’s a promise.

“There’s nobody else,” I whisper, our foreheads pressed together. “There never will be again.”

She lets out a light whimper, and I drag her against me again, this time pulling her into my lap. I kiss her, and kiss her, and when we go to bed together and undress, she’s all I have inside, everything left in my dreams. All my old shackles are still there, but they’re rusting and falling apart. She’s going to break them, and I don’t know what I’ll be after that.

But I want to find out.