Chapter 22 - Agafon
By the time Lilibeth and I get home, we’re both exhausted. It’s been a long day working at the bar, and with everything that happened with the Solotovs and then after, we’re both spent.
I loosen my tie the minute we step into the foyer. “Join me for a drink before dinner?” I ask.
She turns to me with a smile. “I’d love to, but I think I need a shower first. Join you in a bit?”
“You know where to find me,” I playfully pat her ass as she scurries off toward the stairs with a squeal. I watch her run up the stairs, her curves hypnotic under that dress.
“Don't take forever,” I call after her when she’s upstairs and about to disappear around the bend to her bedroom.
“Keep the drinks cold!” she bellows back with laughter.
I head to the living room and take off my jacket with a groan, leaving it on a side table nearby. I push open the doors, debating whether I should stick to opening a wine or making us some cocktails—and that’s when I see him.
Nikandr sits on a couch and has his bags piled beside himlike he's planning to stay.
His hair is longer than when I last saw him, and from a place of worry, I look into his eyes. They seem clearer than usual, I think to myself with relief.
“Surprise,” he says, giving me a lazy wave.
My heart pounds against my ribs, and I walk toward him with clenched fists. “You got into my house? And how the hell did you get in here?”
“Through the back door.” He shrugs in that callous way of his. “And I have the key.”
“How very stupid of me to have ever given you that key,” I growl in anger.
Hurt flickers across his face, but he quickly covers it with a cocky grin. I feel a sharp pang of regret, but that’s the problem with Nikandr—it’s impossible to get through to him, no matter what approach I take. No matter what I say, do, or don’t, I’ll always feel regret. Always feel guilt.
And he won’t do a damn thing to change.
“Three weeks of silence and now you show up unannounced?” I move to the bar cart, pouring myself a drink,refusingto even offer one to Nikandr. “Last we spoke, you said you’d drop by for a visit someday. You never mentioned you’d be comingnow. A warning would have helped.”
Nikandr’s gaze follows me as I sit down across from him. “I finished my program early. Thought I'd surprise you.”
“What program is it now?” I scoff. “Drugs? Alcohol? Gambling?”
“Behavioural therapy, actually,” Nikandr says without skipping a beat.
“Congratulations,” I say, and mean it. This is what I wanted—Nikandr clean, functional, maybe even happy.
“Thanks.” He gives me a genuine smile, and the awkwardness around this situation simmers down a little. It’s a good thing he’s been reaching out more often over the past year. We speak every couple of weeks, and just knowing he’s no longer shutting us out makes me more receptive to his presence.
After all, I can’t help him if he wants nothing to do with me.
“How long are you staying?” I ask, taking a sip.
“I…I don’t have to say if you don’t want me to.”
I growl. “You’re my brother. Of course you’re staying.”
“Thanks,” he says again, but shuffles in his seat awkwardly.
There’s a silence that falls over us for a little while, and then his eyes freeze on the fireplace mantle. I follow his trail and see what he’s looking at. Photos. From our wedding day. Lilibeth had some framed and put them there.
His eyes track back to mine. “Seems like I've missed a lot.”
“Just the usual business,” I say, not wanting to talk about Lilibeth to him.
