23
Chelle
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Nikolai murmurs. I’m wrapped in his arms in the elevator on the way up to his apartment.
“You didn’t scare me,” I say. “I scared myself. The situation scared me.” The image of the dead bodies flickers in my mind, and I realize what tripped me into my freak-out. “I found my dad after he shot himself.”
“Oh, Chelle.” Nikolai cups half my face, while the other cheek remains pressed firmly against his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“I honestly think I’d blocked the image of it out until this moment. But the feeling was the same. The sickness and fear.”
“I’m sorry, zayka.” The elevator opens, and we step out. I look up at him. “You’ve seen a lot of death.”
He nods.
“That scared me, too.”
“I know. I…” He hesitates with his keycard against the lock. “My place i
