“Can’t wait to get back to it.” I lay drumming my heels under the sheets, thinking of my men heading out to hunt without me to look after them. “Tell the boys to look sharp.” I watched wistfully as Kostia thumped Lyonya’s shoulder and padded noiselessly out. “Aren’t you going, too?” I asked Lyonya as he flopped into the chair by my cot.
“I’m not on this nocturnal schedule you upyrs are, thank goodness. How does anyone accomplish anything at three in the morning besides brooding over old mistakes?”
I began rotating my arm and shoulder to get some of the motion back, something Lena had encouraged even if it did make my stitches pull painfully. “What mistakes do you have to brood over?”
“I was married once,” he said unexpectedly. “Divorced within a year. Do you think less of me?”
“That depends on why you divorced.”
“Oh, I was young and stupid.” He shook his head, rueful. “Eighteen years old, letting my mother push me into marrying the girl next door. I knew nothing about women, not even to tell Olga she was beautiful and hand her chocolate when she was crying, and after a few months it seemed like all she did was cry. We both realized it was a mistake, so we parted ways before there were any children to get hurt. Olga’s an engineer now, with another husband and two babies. We’re friendly enough when we meet.”
“How civilized,” I said, thinking of Alexei’s mocking Jump for it! My stitches pulled again, and I flinched.
“I know you married young, too.” Lyonya leaned back in his too-small chair, elbow hooked around the back. “What went wrong?”
“He decided being a husband and father wasn’t for him.” I hesitated. “If he hadn’t . . . well, I’d have left him anyway, eventually. He was bad for my son, and he made me feel small.”
“You are small. A pocket-sized sniper.” Seeing me strain for a harder stretch through my shoulder, Lyonya caught my wrist—his fingers overlapped my narrower bones easily—and gave a slow, firm tug. “But I’ve seen you when your Lieutenant Pavlichenko comes by on rounds. You shrink around him; I don’t like to see it. Here, tell me when it hurts . . .”
I gasped, feeling the torn muscles stretch. “I don’t like to feel it, believe me.”
Lyonya released my wrist when I nodded, and I eased back into my pillow, not wanting to talk more about Alexei. Lyonya steered the conversation into happier waters for another half hour or so, then glanced at the time. “I should go. Allegedly I’m a lieutenant with serious responsibilities; I need to go shirk them for a while so Dromin will have an excuse to glare at me.”
I laughed. Lyonya leaned close to speak into my ear.
“Your former husband is hovering at the door. Shall I steal that kiss now, to make him jealous?”
I choked back another laugh, tempted. “No.”
“Worth a try.” Lyonya sauntered off whistling, fair hair gleaming under the harsh hospital lights, and I turned hastily on one side and pretended to go to sleep before Alexei could come over and begin making conversation. I heard him standing over my cot for a long moment, though. Just breathing.
What do you want? I thought, listening as he finally strolled away.
Lena, coming to sit by my cot on her break, was blunt. “He wants to know if you’re tossing the bedroll with Lyonya or Kostia or both. He’s grilled all the nurses and orderlies about you three.”
“It’s none of his business,” I protested. “And why does no one believe I might just be doing my job, not hopping in and out of bedrolls?”
“Because men are worse gossips than old women, that’s why. The rumor is you’re screwing both of them.” Lena gave me a shrewd look. “So, which one’s the lucky fellow?”