Page 70 of Hate You Most

Her breathing turned ragged, her body shaking as the sobs overtook her completely. She cried until her face hurt, until there was nothing left of her but a hollow ache and the sound of the endless city's movements outside.

“Viktoriya?” Dakota’s voice cut through the memory like a blade.

She blinked the couch back into focus around her. The movie was still paused in the background, frozen mid-frame of the two guys standing together in the middle of the pouring rain.

Dakota's entire body was turned toward her. Concern flashed across her face. “Hey, it's okay, it's okay.”

Viktoriya realized her cheeks were wet. Her hands trembled faintly in her lap.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically, wiping the tears from her cheeks before Dakota could move closer. “Just—tired.”

Dakota studied her eyes for a long moment. She decided not to say anything, and for that Viktoriya was grateful.

“We don’t have to keep watching,” Dakota said softly, and reached for the remote to turn the TV off completely.

“No,” Viktoriya said quickly. “It’s okay. I like it.” That was true, too. Somehow. She returned her gaze to the dark screen, her heart still racing.

The first real memory to come back to her—and it wasn’t a happy one. It confused her, unsettled something deep in her chest. But beneath the confusion was something else. She wasn’t empty, she wasn’t broken beyond repair. Her past was still there, and it was waiting for her to uncover it.

Viktoriya decided she shouldn't tell Dakota just yet. She needed time to fully understand what she'd just remembered. It was the first fragile thread back to becoming her old self, and she was going to keep that close.

She sat quietly and breathed through the residual ache. Let the normalcy of the evening settle over her again. She was completely safe, and Dakota wasn't leaving her alone. She was okay.

When the credits rolled and Dakota reached for the remote, Viktoriya spoke before she could overthink it.

“Will you—” her voice caught, and she cleared her throat. “Will you sleep in the bedroom tonight?”

Dakota froze, hand still hovering with the remote.

“I mean,” Viktoriya rushed on, heart pounding. “Just sleep, nothing else. I just… do not want to sleep alone.” The words were honest and dangerously close to something she shouldn't mention aloud.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” she said quietly.

Viktoriya stared blankly into the air, biting her lip. “Why?”

“Because,” Dakota said, carefully. “You don’t remember everything, and I don’t want to take advantage of that. And also because, if I’m lying next to you, I don’t trust myself enough to pretend I don’t want you.”

She took a breath in.

“I am not asking you to pretend,” Viktoriya said. “I am asking you to stay.”

Dakota’s jaw tightened. “Viktoriya⁠—”

“I do not want to sleep alone,” she said, cutting in before Dakota could deny it further or leave the room. She needed this, and in that moment she was completely sure of what she wanted. “And I don’t want you in the other room, pretending you don’t belong in our bed.”

Viktoriya watched as the American got up from the couch. For a moment she was sure Dakota would simply walk away from her without another word. Instead, she closed the distance between them until she was sitting on the floor, right in front of where Viktoriya was sitting. They were at eye-level, and Dakota was staring into her eyes.

She wasn't touching her, she wouldn't do that unless invited verbally.

“You’re sure?” Dakota asked quietly. “Because once I’m beside you, it might feel… different.”

Viktoriya nodded. “I know.”

“I snore,” she smiled. “You don't remember that, but I do—and it used to drive you so crazy, that you slept with earplugs.”

“It is okay.”

“I read before bed,” Dakota continued. “I keep the bedside light on and I read some really bad romance books that always have obnoxious titles.”