I turn my head, and I see Luka across from me, his gaze just as bloodshot. But he smiles weakly, as though reminding me that I have people who care about me in this city—who are here for me. I struggle to return the smile, realizing I can’t form one. An avalanche of tears forces me to shield my eyes again.
Katya hugs me around the waist. “You can’t leave,” she whispers, her voice so soft.
My second hand returns to my face, a mess of emotion. You can’t leave. But I’m not sure if I should stay either. I try to set aside my feelings for Nikolai. I try so hard not to see him in the equation, and my achievements seem so small, so miniscule and pitiful.
My body shudders with each sob, the noise muffled in my palms. I never wanted this chapter in my life to be the biggest mistake, the biggest regret. I wanted it to mean something.
I wanted to be something more.
And yet, I sit here, pained, tired, sore, a wreck—and I just hear what everyone has been telling me all along. You’re not one in a million, Thora James.
You will never amount to more than what you are.
Accept that.
I think I’m starting to.
For a long time, Katya and Luka remain quiet. Just here for me. Whether they know it or not—it conflicts me more. It makes it as hard to leave as it is to stay.
And then Luka tells me, “At least wait to talk to our brother before you make a decision. Please.”
I nod once. It’s the only confident choice I can make in this moment. Everything else is fragile and gray.
Act Thirty-Four
I curl up on the couch in Nikolai’s suite while I wait for him, silent tears leaking onto a decorative pillow. Katya and Luka whisper quietly at the kitchen bar, her phone pinging each time she receives a new text. I’m mentally and emotionally spent, but these silent tears won’t cease.
Minutes pass in a daze before I hear the door open. “Where is she?” Nikolai’s worried voice fills me whole.
“Sleeping,” Katya says. “I think she may leave, Nik.” The sound of his feet dies midway.
Luka interjects in a whisper, “We don’t know that, Kat.”
“You saw her. She was thinking about it, and her parents looked upset. It’s all because she’s here. Normal parents don’t want their kid in Vegas.” She sniffs. “She can’t leave, Nik.”
He speaks in hurried, low Russian, pain—I hear pain in his voice.
“No,” Katya suddenly cries. “Don’t say that.”
His tone carries so much weight. “It’s not our choice to make, Kat.”
“But you love her. And she loves you.”
I shut my eyes, tears sliding down my slick cheeks. My whole chest heavy. My whole heart full. One has been crushing the other.
He whispers Russian that I can’t understand. That I don’t even pretend to.
“You have to fight for her,” Katya cries. “Nik, you have to.”
“Katya, listen to me,” Nikolai says. “That’s not what this is about.”
She speaks Russian.
For the first time since I’ve known her—she speaks to him in clipped, pained Russian. A sob attached to her words.
He replies in the same language with finality. And Luka has to be the one to say, “It’ll be okay, Kat.”
Seconds later, strong arms slip underneath me, and Nik carries me to his bedroom. I keep my eyes closed, afraid to see Katya’s expression. I never thought I’d make a mark on someone’s life. I never thought people could love me that way. I’m average. Ordinary.
But I’m beginning to realize something…
We all traverse in and out of people’s worlds, leaving footprints. Some larger, some smaller, but there is always a mark. We can’t sweep it away.
In this moment, I think I’d like to sweep every mark. Every footprint. Every trace of me. No one will be hurt from my aspirations. From my pursuit of happiness.
It’s best that way.
My back sinks into the soft, metallic comforter, his fingers stroking my cheek, a gentle breeze. I’m scared to open my eyes. To meet his. I’m supposed to stay in Vegas for my career, not for love. And I wonder if I’ll forget this. If he’ll flood me with sentiments too strong to let go.
I sense his knees on either side of my build. I sense his hands on either side of my head. “Open your eyes, Thora,” he whispers.
Wake up.
I do. I am.
He hovers over me, his eyes directly in line with mine, matched, unwavering. Those gunmetal skies bearing down from up above. I can see, clearly, that he knows everything. His sister must have texted him the entire story that she overheard.
Tears slide from the creases of my eyes. “I’m a fool.”
“No.” He rubs my cheek with his thumb, drying the wet streaks. “You’re brave.”
I’m about to shake my head, but he clutches my face, keeping my gaze fixed on him. It hurts so badly. The truth. Every word my parents said. The ultimatum. My end. “It’s over.”
“It’s only over if you want it to be,” he refutes.
Instinct, I try to shake my head again. He clutches me tighter. “Nik…” My face twists as I cry. “You don’t understand. I’m not good enough.” I shield my face with my palms, and he brings both down, grasping my wrists.
His beautiful gray gaze is reddened but hard, determined, assured. Confident. Powerful. As though he has faith in me. As though his belief will carry me further than their doubt.
“You’re better than you were,” he says lowly. “I promise you that.”
I remember what Shay said at the pool party. He gives you false hope, so he can sleep with you. “You’re designed to say good things to me,” I breathe, my eyes raw, my throat dry. “You’re my boyfriend.”
He inhales a strong breath and his jaw muscles tic. “You have to separate what I say as your trainer and as your boyfriend.”
“It’s hard,” I whisper, “because both my trainer and my boyfriend are in agreement, aren’t they?”
He stays quiet, not denying that he wants me here, in Vegas.
I ask the most painful question of the night, each word opening me whole. “How much of you wants me to stay because you love me…and how much because you know I will succeed?”
“Thora…” His gray eyes glass, distraught. He tries to rope me in, to lasso me one last time. Not even his intensity can lift me higher. He lowers his body closer to mine. And then he says, very slowly, “I don’t love you.”
My body collapses.
And his eyes begin to pool. “I don’t love you, Thora.” Why does he have to repeat it? He clutches my cheek as I try to turn away. He forces my tearful gaze to his watery one. “I will tell you this every single day if that’s what you need to hear. Just to believe these truths. You’re good enough, myshka. Because you work hard. Because you’re willing to learn. And because you have talent. You wouldn’t be able to pick up skills this quickly if you didn’t. And if you go home now, you’re giving up.”
His words rush through my veins, a drug that tries to soothe the painful parts of me. “But if I stay, there is no guarantee that I’ll land a contract.” I hear my parents in my ear. I hear Shay. I hear everyone else but him.
“There was never a guarantee. And still, you flew out here. You still made a life here. All on your own.” His hands warm my cheeks. “There are so many people in this world afraid to do what you’ve done. They’ll wait around hoping that something will make it easier—a stable job, a friend in the city, any extra security. When it doesn’t happen, they spend the rest of their lives without their passion, wondering what could have been. Don’t latch onto their fear. Not now.”