Lev: a Shot Callers novel - Belle Aurora Page 0,40

himself, and I reverted to the old me, turning my head to hide behind my hair.

“She was beautiful, but you know what made her stunning?”

“What?”

I turned to face him. “Her smile.” I grinned. “It was contagious. And when she laughed, her whole body shook in one joyous, choreographed movement. It was as if she danced with her laughter. She smiled all the time, even when it was hard to muster, and she laughed a lot too.” My throat thickened the more I spoke of her. I finished on a whisper, “She was pure sunshine.”

“And then she died.” It was so morbid, so morose that I winced.

“And then she died,” I confirmed with a nod. “It all happened so quickly. She went to the doctors with stomach pains and bloating, and was misdiagnosed at first. We found out that she had bowel cancer, and it was too late. They told us she had three months.” I frowned at the memory. “She barely made it to two.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shrugged just as Lidiya returned with another handful of leaves to add to the small collection she’d gathered. This time, she sat down, right on my lap, and reached for the bag of apple slices. I opened it for her and handed her a slice, hugging an arm around her belly and resting my cheek on her head. “What about your parents, Lev? You haven’t mentioned them.”

“They’re dead,” he stated without emotion.

I turned his question back on him. “Did you love them?”

He picked up a blade of grass, his brow bunching. “I don’t understand love,” he started. “Love is just a word.”

My brows rose in surprise. I could see he loved Lidiya, loved her with all he had inside of him. I could see he loved Nas, and even Sasha in his own way. I did not understand how a person surrounded by people who loved him did not understand love. “But you love Lidiya. You love Nas and Sasha.”

“Do I?” he questioned. “I would put myself in harms way to see them happy. I would give my life to see them safe. I would. Is that love? Perhaps.” His head tilted to the side. “Perhaps it is more.”

Lidiya ate, babbling quietly, handing me things she found fascinating, like the lid to my water bottle. I pondered his words in silence, and when I thought I understood, I spoke gently. “You believe in love the verb. Not love the word.” His face spun and he looked at me as if he was shocked I understood. I added, “Love, the action. Not love, the watery emotion.”

“Yes,” he uttered, awestruck.

I could love you, Lev Leokov.

The thought took me by surprise. It both excited and terrified me at the very same time.

I bit the inside of my lip. “I get it.”

My focus was drawn to the little girl, eating her weight in apple slices, but I felt his eyes on me. Twirling my fingers through Lidiya’s sweet curls, I held her close, using her as a too-cute distraction.

Her father’s intensity was killing me.

“Before, when you had a home, did you plan on college?” His question surprised me.

“Yeah,” I beamed. “I was going to be a photographer. Spend all my money on a camera and take off, snapping pictures of this and that.” I grinned. “Selling my photographs for thousands of dollars and being the go-to person when the people at Vogue needed inspiration.” I chuckled to myself. “That was the dream, anyway.”

“What would you take pictures of?”

Lidiya had put her thumb into her mouth, snatched up her blankie, and settled on my chest, resting her head on my shoulder. I kissed her forehead. “I wanted to take edgy photos. Pictures of people and situations that made people do a double-take. I wanted to be rash and reckless, and bring awareness to subjects that were often forgotten.” I shrugged, accidentally jolting Lidiya. “Oh, sorry, honey,” I whispered. “I wanted to make a difference.”

Lidiya, getting sick of my chatter and movement, picked herself up and crawled over to her daddy, who already had his arms open for her. He folded them around her, holding her close, and the moment she tucked her nose into the side of his neck, she closed her eyes and sighed, dozing almost immediately.

I smiled at the pair. But the sight triggered my next question. “Where is Lidiya’s mom?” I asked cautiously. “I know she lives with her but no one mentions her.”

Without thinking, he answered through a growl, “Lidiya’s mother is a poor excuse