Let It Go: Sergey (Mikhailov Brothers Book 1) by Amanda Hough

Author:Amanda Hough [Hough, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amanda Triplett
Published: 2014-04-15T07:00:00+00:00

Voices were coming at me from inside a tunnel. Nothing could reach me. No sound, no touch. I’d had an experience like this before long ago. Clinically I suppose it was shock. The reality was that I turned it all off. The amount of real emotion that I let over my walls was substantive. The proficiency that which I burned emotional energy was honed to a science. Nothing and no one got in or out unless I wanted them to. This was my world and I was the master.

But on occasion the walls were breached and the onslaught was too much. I just stopped then. Too much.

Sergey spoke with the officers and took care of all the paperwork while I went outside for some fresh air. Sitting on a hard, wooden bench designed to be a smoking area, I wished I had a cigarette. Closing my eyes I imagined that wonderfully biting menthol smoke, that first toke, breathing it into the lungs. The heady calm coming over me.

I asked the man next to me for one of his Marlboro Lights. Put it to my lips and watched the flame dance on the tip as I inhaled. Christ, did I miss that! It was nothing like licking an ashtray. That was all propaganda. Smoking that cigarette was like coming home.

I sucked more of the sweet toxin into my lungs and rested my head in my hands.

The bench heaved and bowed as the cigarette man left and was replaced by someone heavier. Through the smoke I could smell sweet clean mint and knew Sergey was back.

“I didn’t know you smoked, Evie.”

I shook my head. “I don’t. I quit five years ago.” I studied the orange glow. Memories of burn marks on a yellowed mattress came in a rush. I snuffed the Marlboro out on the sole of my sneaker and tossed it in the receptacle.

“My mom used to do that.” I said absently.

“Do what, Evelyn?”

“Put her cigarette out on her shoe. It always irritated me when she did that. I don’t know why.” I rubbed my face, tried to wipe away the memory.

“She always had a cigarette in her hand. She’d tuck butts into her pockets for later.”

Sergey shifted on the bench, rested his elbows on his knees and turned his head toward me.

I didn’t meet his gaze.

Walls up, floating away.

“Evelyn, look at me.”

I ignored him and closed my eyes. Willed our connection to sever. He was grounding me in the present. Retreat, retreat.

“Evelyn, I said look at me!” It was a soft command. I looked.

“What can I do to make it better?”

His question made no sense. What could he do? Leave me alone. Go away.

He was waiting for an answer. I gave one.

“I think I need to be alone, Sergey. Thank you for driving me here. I will arrange—” He stopped me with a wave of his hand, yanked me off the bench and we headed to the garage.

“Sergey! Don’t do this!” He had a firm hold of me. Marching me to the F-150, he ignored my appeals to stop.

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