Page 12 of Deviant Need

My family’s tried to get me into rehab multiple times. I went once and swore I’d never go again. That place felt suffocating, like locking a wild animal in a cage and expecting it not to claw its way out. I lasted twenty-four hours before I smashed the window and ran, and they haven’t been able to drag me back since.

Heading into the kitchen, I find him perched on one of the chairs at the island, focused on whatever he’s typing on his laptop.

“Looks good,” I say, eyeing the omelets. He even made it the way I like it, with salami, salad, and sauce, exactly how I always want it. I hop onto the chair next to him and pat his shoulder in thanks. He glances up at me, and his gaze drops to my bare chest for a second before he jerks his eyes away, biting his lip as his cheeks turn pink.

“We’re supposed to meet Lev and Yulian at the firm in an hour.”

He doesn’t glance up from his laptop. “Are you planning to behave?”

“Maybe.”

He finally meets my eyes, already tired before we’ve even walked out the door. “I know you love arguing with them, but can we just try to have one good day? That’s all I’m asking.”

I stab at the omelet. “They always start it first.”

“Yeah, I know. But you don’t have to take the bait every time.”

“They’re impossible to ignore.”

“Mik.” He sighs, eating more. “Just try. For me?”

“Fine, for you.”

We sit in silence for a minute while he works. His jaw is clenched, that muscle jumping the way it does when he’s stressed out.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

He stops typing. “For what?”

“For being too much.”

His face softens, and he leans over to rub my shoulder. “Stop apologizing for being yourself. You’re not too much. You’re exactly what you’re supposed to be.”

My throat tightens. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” His eyes stay on mine.

“I don’t want to go to that meeting,” I blurt. “I’m going to screw everything up, I can feel it. Please, Danya. It’s one of those days where I can’t keep it together, and I don’t want to lose control and hurt someone.”

“Then we skip it. I’ll tell them something came up.”

“You’d really do that?”

He shrugs. “We could spar instead. Burn off whatever’s making you twitchy.”

I grin at him. “You’re my favorite person in this entire fucked-up family. Hope you know that.”

He rolls his eyes and takes another bite. I can feel the tension building under my skin, that familiar itch that means I need to do something physical before I lose it completely. So, I hop off the chair and head into our home gym, pulling off my gray sweatpants as I go.

I find workout shorts on the floor and pull them on before stretching.

“Righteous” by Juice WRLD starts blasting through the speakers, and I grin because he knows it’s my favorite. Glancing over, I catch him stretching, his calf muscles flexing as he moves. He’s got on shorts and one of my white shirts that practically drowns him, the sleeves falling past his elbows. He’s giving me that look, the one that makes me want to tease him instantly.

“Are we doing this or are you just going to stretch all day?” I ask.

“Depends. Are you going to take it easy on me this time?”

“When have I ever not? I’m not actually trying to hurt you, Danya,” I say, grinning.