CAITLYN
I woke up to the smell of cooking.
An aroma of something delicious wafted through my room's door, and I sighed into the pillow. The comfort I felt quickly faded when my stomach cramped so intensely that I was forced to my knees, my forehead still pressed against the mattress. I took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut.
I needed a shower, so I willed myself out of bed. A soft smile formed on my lips when I saw the two painkillers and a glass of water on my dresser. Dominic… I needed to show him my appreciation when my period was finally over.
I downed the tablets, groaning in satisfaction as my dry throat was quenched. I could hear the sound of pots and pans clinking, and as much as I wanted to join him, I needed a bath first.
After a cold shower and changing into comfortable clothes, I felt much better than when I'd woken up. Entering the kitchen, my heart swelled as I saw Dominic standing by the stove, bare-chested, his gaze fixed on the pan in front of him. His back muscles flexed as he moved the spatula.
I couldn't help but feel bad that he hadn't left like I had expected. Instead, he was making breakfast.
I padded toward him and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my palms against his toned stomach.
My first instinct was to kiss him on the middle of his back. His body tensed slightly. I felt him place a hand on my forearm. He smelled like my body wash and shampoo, and I grinned at the lavender scent radiating from him.
"How do I say 'good morning' in Russian?" I mumbled against his skin.
"*Dobroye utro*," he said, his voice still husky and deep with sleep.
"Never mind," I muttered, and I felt his chest shake with laughter. I let go of him and stepped back. We were behaving like a couple, and I realized in that moment that there was no harm in it. I had to stop letting my issues ruin a potentially good thing.
"Did you sleep well?" Dominic asked, tilting his head to look at me. I smiled when I saw the sleep lines on his face and his slightly damp, messy hair. Last night had been rough; we were up until nearly 3 a.m. watching terrible, low-quality movies and laughing at the horrible acting. It was fun. At one point, Dominic fell asleep on top of me, and I was nearly squashed to death.
"Yes, thank you. You look like you did too."
"Oh, it was amazing. You have a really nice bed," he said and turned his attention back to the pan. We hadn't cuddled in bed; he understood that I needed my space because of my period, and surprisingly, he stayed on his side the whole night.
There had been a moment when my cramps were so bad they woke me up, and I was groaning in pain. Dominic didn't say anything. He just quietly passed me a fresh hot water bottle and went back to sleep.
"I have to go. Just thought I'd make you something to eat before I leave," he said while folding the dishcloth, his eyes on me.
I pursed my lips. "You're not going to eat with me?"
"I wish I could…" Dominic picked up his phone and stared at it for a few seconds. His mood darkened just a little, but I noticed it immediately.
"Okay," I said, trying to hide my disappointment. "Thank you."
He smiled, but the stress in his eyes was obvious. I had a feeling Dominic was carrying a lot more on his shoulders than he let on, and I could only imagine the immense pressure he was under.
He set down the cloth and leaned in for a deep, passionate kiss. My eyes widened momentarily from the intensity before my body relaxed and darkness filled my vision. The feel of his lips on mine and his hand on my hip, drawing circles with his thumb, was almost overwhelming, but all too soon, he pulled away.
While I was still trying to process what had just happened, Dominic was already collecting his things.
"See you, angel." He kissed my forehead, and two seconds later, he was out of my apartment. I frowned. What the fuck is going on?
***
"Hi, Dad." I sat down on the cold metal chair, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the looks I was getting, especially from the guards who were supposed to be protecting the visitors.
I wore baggy clothes and a hood, yet predatory gazes still found me.
I hated coming to the prison. It almost always ruined my mood, and I left feeling more hollow than ever. It was a Sunday, though, so I thought I'd pay my father a visit after a very long time.
"Hi, baby girl. Micah didn't come with you?" he asked, looking around before slumping in his seat in disappointment. I smiled to hide how much that simple question hurt.
"No, he didn't. You know Micah can't stand seeing you in here," I said, shaking my head. I could see he was trying to hide how unhappy he was that his son never visited.
"You've always been the strongest one, even though he's older." He smiled warmly, his faint Colombian accent coming through. I remembered how angry he'd been when my mother changed our surnames to her maiden name instead of keeping Valencia.
If I even mentioned visiting him, she would throw a massive fit and practically forbid me from seeing my own dad. But there I was.
"You look… healthy," I said, trying to brighten the mood. It was true: my father was in his mid-forties with a full head of black hair, not a gray in sight. His green eyes were dull, and through the orange jumpsuit, I could see he'd gained a lot of muscle over the years he'd been locked up.
"How are you?" I asked, twiddling my thumbs. Why the fuck was it so awkward? I wanted to get up, leave, and never come back.
"Don't worry about me. How are you? How's your mother? I haven't heard from her in ages," he said, leaning forward and placing his clasped hands on the table separating us. As soon as he did, a guard stepped forward and gave him a warning look.
My father scoffed and rolled his eyes, clearly not giving a fuck. The guard backed off and raised his hands. I looked at them in confusion. I knew he had connections in jail, but not to that extent.
"She's fine. Taking care of Grandma and doing her embroidery. You know how much she loves that," I mumbled, stopping myself from mentioning that she was currently seeing someone else. He would go absolutely berserk.
My father smiled, his eyes lighting up at the memory. "I know. She's very talented. How's Micah? Is he still dating that boy, what's his name… Oh yes, Evan?" he asked, genuinely interested.
"No, they broke up a few months ago. Something about Evan going away for college," I replied, shaking my head. Micah would absolutely have my head if he knew I was talking about him to Dad. I shut my mouth before I said anything else.
He nodded. "Mi hija is the only one who comes to see me. Thank you. You're keeping me sane." His voice saddened, and my heart clenched. My father had no idea how much responsibility and pressure he was putting on me with just that sentence.
"Of course," I smiled.
We talked for about thirty more minutes. I kept my private life out of it despite his prying. I left with the same empty feeling I always did and stopped to get ice cream on the way home. I sat in my car facing the pier, watching the rough waves while eating something I thought would make me feel better. It didn't.
After an hour's drive, I was walking up to my apartment, ready for the most amazing nap.
My steps faltered when I rounded the corner and saw two men standing in front of my door. Relief flooded through me when I realized it was Micah and Yurik, currently shoving each other around and making a racket.
"Shut up," I muttered, pushing past them to stick the key in the lock and open the door. I didn't say anything when both of them followed me inside and made themselves comfortable on my couch.
"Caitlin, what's your Wi-Fi password?" Yurik asked, pulling out his phone and looking at me curiously. I gave him a bored look. Micah switched on the TV and started flicking through channels. They really made themselves at home.
"Why are you here?" I asked, opening the fridge and grabbing a slice of leftover pizza.
"What's your Wi-Fi password?" he asked again, ignoring me.
"Just look at the router, dumbass," Micah said, giving Yurik a small shove. Yurik frowned, then launched himself at Micah and put him in a chokehold. They were wrestling like little kids in the middle of my floor. I rolled my eyes and put my pizza in the microwave.
"Tap," Yurik demanded, tightening his hold around Micah's neck. I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter, watching them with an unamused expression.
"Never," Micah gasped, his face turning red as he struggled.
That's when I noticed how freshly bruised Yurik's knuckles were.
If the silver gun tucked into his waistband wasn't a big enough reminder of who he was, the red and purple marks on his hands certainly were. Despite being playful most of the time, I knew how dangerous he was. Just like his brother.
It was actually scary.
"Tap, bitch," Yurik snapped. They were now on the floor, Yurik lying flat with Micah's back pressed against his stomach. I swear if they broke any furniture…
"Never, bitch," Micah croaked, looking on the verge of passing out while clawing at Yurik's forearm.
"Oh, really? How about now?" Yurik tightened his grip so hard that Micah's face looked ready to burst. I smirked. That's amazing.
"No! I'll die before I tap, you stupid little… okay, okay, I tap!" Micah wheezed, frantically smacking Yurik's arm. Yurik let go, grinning in victory while Micah clutched his neck, panting and coughing dramatically.
I sighed and joined them on the couch once it was safe. Yurik got up, went to the router in the corner, flipped it over, and typed in the password. Micah was still recovering beside me.
"You good?" I asked, taking another bite of pizza. He glared at me. I stifled a laugh when he shifted the glare to Yurik's back, looking completely violated.
"Thank you," Yurik said with a cheeky smirk. "Do you have more of that? I'm starving." I nodded toward the kitchen. Micah turned to me while Yurik raided the fridge.
"Where were you? It's Sunday," he said, eyeing me suspiciously. My brother hardly spoke to me, yet here he was barging into my apartment and questioning me. I gave him a dirty look and focused on the TV.
"Caitlin, where were you?" he pressed.
I let out a deep, annoyed breath. "I was visiting our father," I said with a shrug.
Micah's face softened, and a small smile appeared. I knew he missed him. He was just too stubborn.
"How is he?" he asked, scooting closer.
"Why don't you go find out for yourself, or at least call him?" I said, finishing my slice. Yurik plopped down on my other side with a satisfied grin, holding pizza and a can of Coke.
I turned to Yurik. "Are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"
"We missed you," he said bluntly, but I wasn't buying it.
"Sure. Where's your brother?"
"Working."
"What…"
"Stop with the questions, sweetheart," he interrupted, giving me a pointed look that said I really needed to drop it. The playfulness was still in his eyes, but he was serious.
"Okay. I'm going to nap," I said, getting up from the couch. I put my plate in the sink, rolled my neck, and felt my eyes growing heavy. I wasn't about to let Micah and Yurik ruin my planned sleep. I was exhausted. With that, I left them in the living room.
They better not fuck on my couch.