37. Gleb

"Husband?" she asks as soon as the door closes behind him. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows arc in surprise as she turns to look at me, her onyx eyes shining with what must be amusement.

"It was the only way they would allow me in the room with you, and Gabby was too little to come in alone." I keep my voice even, though a strange heat creeps up the back of my neck to my ears.

Mel smiles bashfully. "Right. Of course. Sorry."

I shrug. "It's not your fault."

To my surprise, her eyes suddenly shine with unshed tears, and I can't fathom why. The trauma of everything that's happened since she called must be catching up to her. But in true Mel style, she licks her lips and swallows the emotion down to give me a brave smile.

"Thank goodness it was only for three days, right?" she jokes.

A deep ache tightens my chest, and I nod. "Right."

I have to remember, Mel called me in a state of severe distress. Nothing's changed.

She just needed an escape.

The door clicks open, shattering the painful moment as the nurse enters.

"Well, Miss O'Mara, I hear you're feeling well enough that we can get you dressed and ready to go," the young brunette says sweetly.

"I picked up some clothes for you," I say, gesturing to one of the empty chairs. "I'll go… get us a rental car and meet you out front."

Mel nods, giving Gabby a tight squeeze and pressing her cheek to the top of her daughter's head. A silent signal that she won't be letting her out of her sight.

And as the nurse approaches the hospital bed, I slip silently from the room.

A rental doesn't take me long to find. I ditched the old man's car as soon as I got the chance because, even if it didn't get reported stolen, Vinny's men were sure to have come looking for it. I rent a simple sedan along with a car seat and pull up to the hospital entrance a half hour later.

A nurse rolls Mel out the door in a wheelchair as I step out of the car and come around to open the passenger-side door.

"Really, I'm fine," Mel insists as the nurse carts her right up to the car, Gabby on her lap.

"It's hospital policy," the nurse assures her, locking the tires.

As I lift Gabby from her mom's lab, Mel gets shakily from her wheelchair and leans on the back door.

"I can strap her in," she insists when she sees me buckling Gabby's car seat.

"Worried I'll do it wrong?" I ask dryly, cocking an eyebrow. And before she can think of an appropriate response, I add, "You can double-check my work from the front seat." I jerk my chin, silently commanding her to get into the car before she topples over.

For a moment, she looks like she's going to argue—typical Mel—but then she nods and turns to slide into the passenger seat.

When I turn back to Gabby, she's watching me with those intense green eyes, her solemn expression making my heart swell. Typically, kids freak me out. They're so small and fragile and easy to upset. But Gabby's not like most children. She's so… calm. Thoughtful even though she can't be more than two just based on her size.

I attempt a reassuring smile as I finish buckling her in and hope the expression doesn't look too strained. It feels foreign.

Closing the door, I round the front of the vehicle and slip behind the wheel.

"Where are we?" Mel asks, looking around as we pull back out onto the street.

"Milford. I didn't want to backtrack to New Haven. Figured they'd be more likely to look for us there."

"Did you…? How did we get here?" she presses.

"Does it matter?" I don't particularly think she needs to know about the old man. It won't do anything but disturb her.

"Gabby said you carried us into the woods…" she says, clearly unwilling to let it go.

Sighing, I glance toward Mel. "An old man saw the crash and pulled over to help."

Mel's eyes widen, and I seriously contemplate just leaving it at that. It's not a lie and a lot less ugly than the truth. But I can't bring myself to give her anything but the truth. I hate dishonesty. I've had more than my fair share in a lifetime, and I don't need to bring it into our already-strained relationship.

"Miko shot him, so after they followed us into the woods, I doubled back and took his car since he wouldn't be needing it anymore." My tone flat, I keep my eyes on the road.

And from the deafening silence beside me, I know Mel's thinking about the man who died at my brother's hand. The fact never fails to escape me that if I hadn't gotten out of Boston when I did, that so easily could have been me—another Miko—cold, unapologetic, violent out of convenience. I might be dysfunctional, but at least I'm not that.

The longer the quiet stretches between us, the deeper into my sullen thoughts I go.

Because the truth is, in Mel's eyes, it probably doesn't matter that I've become the best version of myself I could manage. I'm still not good enough.

I'm useful.

That's apparent.

And reliably willing to come to her help.

But that's not what she's looking for. I honestly don't know what is. For a few fleeting moments, I thought it might be. Every time she touches me, it feels like I'm what she wants.

Then her words confirm otherwise.

Actually, her words run the gamut from wanting me to never wanting to see me again.

So, the ones I'm left reading into are the small comments, like in the hospital when she found out I said I was her husband. Thank goodness it was only for three days. Three days while she was unconscious. I'm sure that was a bigger relief in her mind since the thought of being married to me is so appalling.

What is wrong with me?

I'm brooding over the fact that Mel doesn't like the idea of being married to me when she's given me every indication that she only called me to save her and her daughter's lives—it has nothing to do with me at all.

Not that I would ever choose not to protect Mel and her daughter. I will always come for her, regardless of the pain it brings me. And now that I know Gabby, I'm confident I would sell my soul to keep her safe as well. But that doesn't make the truth hurt any less.

I'm nothing more in their lives than a shield to be set aside as soon as the danger passes.

If Vincent Kelly's actions have taught me anything, it's that if I want to respect Mel's wishes, I need to let her go.

"Are you… mad at me?" Mel asks softly, breaking my reverie.

Glancing in her direction, I study the worry in her onyx eyes. "Why would I be mad at you?" I ask.

"For… having to come get me. For needing to risk your life to help me again."

Swallowing my emotions, I turn my gaze back to the road, clenching the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. "I'm not mad for having to come get you."

"But…?" she presses when I cut myself short—because expressing my feelings is not something I excel at.

"It does seem you only have a use for me when your life is on the line." I shake my head. "And, of course, I would rather you ask for help than not. But I just thought—I'd hoped…" I clench my jaw and shake my head again.

There's no sense in talking about wants and wishes. I need to face reality, and the reality is Mel doesn't want what I want.

"I've gotten the message loud and clear," I assure her, casting my eyes in her direction to see her watching me intently. "I'll see you and Gabby to wherever you think you'll be safe, and then you never have to see me again."

"Gleb, I…" Mel starts, then turns away from me as she bites her lips. And in the split second before her eyes dropped, I caught the guilt there.

She doesn't like hurting me.

And I can appreciate her empathy, even if it won't fix anything.

"I think it's best for us both if we go our separate ways," I state.

Then she won't be faced with seeing my pain when I see her every day, and I can pretend like my cold, lifeless heart wouldn't bleed over being near her and not getting to be with her. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Only I never stopped thinking about Mel, not really. The thoughts just grew less frequent over time.

Hopefully, I can eventually make it back to that state of existence.

Silence greets me from the passenger seat—Mel doesn't argue, which only confirms that my assessment is correct. She knows it, too.

Then, finally, when she speaks, it's little more than a whisper. "I have no clue where to go. I don't have any family. Kieri… she's the closest thing I've had to family since my mom died. But I can't go back there now."

My heart wrenches at the confession.

Part of the reason Mel ended up staying under Veles protection in the first place was because she didn't have family to return to—well, the uncle who sold her to the Zhivoder clan in the first place. But he's just lucky I haven't hunted him down and murdered him.

"We can speak to Pyotr. He'll know what to do."