I nodded.
Ivan was silent as he turned his body and wrapped those long, muscular arms around me, pulling me into his build so that my face went right for that space between his pectorals. My own sigh was instant. One of his hands went flat to my spine and started rubbing up and down the length of it before pausing at the highest point and then rubbing over one shoulder blade and then the other. Circle, circle, circle, easing the ache somehow like it was fucking magic.
“That feels nice,” I whispered, trying to get closer into him.
Something about being sick just made me want to be held. And especially when it was Ivan. He was big enough to really hold me, and he wasn’t squeamish or weird about affection or the contact. He was used to it too, I guess.
One of those big hands went to the back of my neck and started kneading the muscles there, and I swear to God, I moaned.
Ivan chuckled low into the top of my head. “That good?”
“So good,” I whispered, pretty much leaning my entire weight into him. “I could fall asleep like this.”
“I’ll rub your back some more when we get back,” he offered, one hand going to my neck, the other one still rubbing up and down both sections on either side of my spine.
“Promise?”
He chuckled some more. “Promise. But when I get sick, you’re going to have to return the favor.”
“Sure. Uh-huh.”
“Promise?” the pain in the ass asked quietly, his tone pretty amused.
“Promise.”
I sighed into his chest, taking a whiff of that subtle, sweet cologne he usually had on.
“My poor, poor Jasmine,” came a familiar voice from somewhere close by.
I froze, realizing where the hell I was and what the hell Mrs. Lukov would see and think, and was about to take a step back when the arms around me grew tighter. So tight I knew there was no way I was about to get a chance to jump back like we’d gotten caught making out, when all he’d been doing was giving me a hug and rubbing my back. You know. Considering I’d been butt fucking naked a few weeks ago in front of him and he’d had his hands all over the place.
But something about getting caught getting a hug from Ivan seemed even more vulnerable and personal than if we would have been kissing.
At least that’s what I thought.
“She’s not feeling well,” Ivan murmured directly above my head, almost like he was talking into my hair.
“Are you taking your fever reducer?” Mrs. Lukov asked from somewhere behind me.
I still didn’t move as I said, “Hi and yes. Ivan’s been keeping me stocked on them.”
How did she know I’d had a fever?
“Stop being greedy, Vanya, and let me give her a hug too,” Mrs. Lukov demanded.
With one more squeeze around my body by those warm arms of his, he let me go, and I immediately felt heat rise to my face, and I prayed it came off more like I was overheated because of my fever—if I even still had one—and not because of getting caught getting affection from this woman’s son. The second I was out of his hold, I turned around slowly and came face-to-face with Mrs. Lukov, who had apparently been standing directly behind me.
The older woman was already beaming at me. A little older than my mom, Mrs. Lukov looked liked a perfect mix of both her kids… except older. Jet black hair that she had been dying to her natural color for as long as I had known her, tall, slim, with pale skin and the brightest blue eyes that she had passed down to Ivan. She was almost as beautiful as my own mom.
She just wasn’t nuts.
“You look terrible, Jasmine,” Mrs. Lukov claimed, a moment before she wrapped her arms around me to pull me into a hug. At what I guessed was about five foot seven, she almost dwarfed me.
“I feel terrible,” I told her honestly, hugging her back. “Thank you for inviting me. I hope I don’t get you sick.”
“Oh, shush. I’ve been telling Vanya to bring you by since he told me he’s been having Saturday dinner with your family, but he pretends not to hear me,” she claimed, rocking me from side to side. “I was so excited when he told me you were going to be his new partner. Petr and I had always thought it was only a matter of time.”
Yeah, his parents were sweet. And a little na?ve. But I liked them a lot.
“I had a dream once many years ago that both of you were on the stands winning a gold medal,” she said, still rocking me like I was a baby, and I was eating that shit up because not even my own mom did that to me. “Maybe it was a sign, hmm?”
And I couldn’t help how I tensed at the reminder of what I wouldn’t get.
At least not with Ivan.
But I had known that coming into this, hadn’t I? I didn’t have a reason to be disappointed. Something was better than nothing. Hopefully we could take a stand together, only it wouldn’t be for an Olympic medal.
But it would have to be enough.
“It would be nice,” I told her, my voice sounding off and not from feeling bad. “I’m sure Ivan will look great with whoever is his partner then.”
It was her turn to tense around me. I felt her head move but didn’t hear anything come out of her mouth except a “Hmm” I didn’t know what to do with.
And as much as I told myself to relax, I couldn’t.
Because I wouldn’t be the one standing beside Ivan when he made it to the Olympics in two years, and I was going to have to be okay with that.
I just wasn’t right then.
And from the weird vibe I had gotten for a moment from Mrs. Lukov, I didn’t know what was going through her head.
What I did know was that what might have been a minute later, she patted my back and rubbed a circle a lot like the one Ivan had given me, before she said, “I know exactly what you need right now to get over this virus.”
I’d had Mrs. Lukov’s teas once years ago while I’d been on my period and had almost thrown up. She’s sworn it would stop cramping. What it had done was killed my appetite.
“Fresh squeezed orange juice for the vitamin C—”
Oh, thank God. I relaxed in her arms then.
“And vodka. It will kill all the bad germs in you.”
Then I tensed back up. “Ah—”
“Vanya said you weren’t on antibiotics,” she told me like I didn’t know. “You don’t have practice tomorrow. It will be good for you, Jasmine.”
Where the hell was Ivan and why wasn’t he telling her that I couldn’t drink? I didn’t want to. I didn’t like the taste of vodka, but—
“Are you going to tell me no?” the older woman asked, but it came out more like a dare.
Did I have the balls to tell her no?
I couldn’t begin to count the amount of times I had gotten into arguments with people. Couldn’t begin to imagine ever putting a number on the amount of people I’d called bad names. It had been a long time since I cared what anyone other than my family thought, and even then, that pressure usually wasn’t enough to keep me from doing something that would embarrass them.
If this was my mom, I wouldn’t have a problem telling her no.
But she wasn’t.
And from the tone of her voice, chances were that I’d hurt her feelings if I didn’t do something she thought would help me.
Fuck.
“No, Mrs. Lukov,” I said, a moment before Ivan kicked me in the calf.
I lifted my leg to try and donkey kick him back, but he was out of range.
“Excellent,” the woman responded, pulling away from me with a smile on her face and two hands on my shoulders. “Vanya?“ She looked around at the floor suddenly, like she remembered something and was confused. “No babies?”
Babies?
“I left them at home,” Ivan replied.
Oh. Oh.
“You didn’t bring my little Lacey?” Mrs. Lukov asked, disappointment dripping from her words.
“No, especially not Lacey.”