Chapter 55

🜼 🜼 🜼

With twenty minutes remaining before they reached the airport, Dolly abruptly veered away from the indicated route, steering the car onto a side road. Behind them, Benji leaned out his window, his voice sharp with frustration.

“Dolly, where are you going?”

“Stop complaining and follow me, Benjamin!”

Yuri, weary from the day’s strain, had been resting with his eyes closed, but the commotion jolted him upright. Dolly’s destination was a cafe that resembled a bakery, fronted by a broad, mostly empty parking lot. Calgary Airport was modest and sat near the city, where crowds gathered constantly, but this quiet spot felt entirely separate from the urban bustle.

Yuri raised an eyebrow at the familiar Russian lettering on the storefront sign. He looked toward Dolly, seeking an explanation for this abrupt detour. When she remained silent, he asked, “Why are we stopping here?”

“There’s nowhere in Boston that sells Napoleon cake as good as this place,” she replied, pushing her sunglasses onto her head. “It’s been almost fifteen years, so I’m glad they’re still in business. I have to eat some before we go.” When Yuri’s brow remained furrowed, she studied him critically. “What’s that expression for?”

“I don’t understand why you chose this particular place.”

“Why else?” Dolly swung into a space, reversed with a smooth motion, and killed the engine. “Since when does a person need a reason to eat something they like?”

She climbed out, turned back, and tossed the keys through the open window toward him.

“Come inside and see Cherry’s face one more time, or drive to the airport ahead of us. Your choice.”

They had reached the city, and this was as good a place as any to separate. Yuri remained in the passenger seat, the keys heavy in his palm, while Benji parked nearby. Despite the sudden stop, Benji looked surprisingly pleased—a stark contrast to the displeasure and suspicion Yuri had witnessed all day.

Cherriot emerged from the car last, his features obscured by a white baseball cap and a light windbreaker hood. Even with his face masked, his silhouette drew the eye. The long, well-proportioned legs, the broad shoulders beneath a logo shirt, and the thick forearms exposed by his rolled sleeves only served to emphasize his natural elegance.

He moved slowly along the path Benji had taken.

As he passed the car where Yuri sat, Cherriot hesitated, his gaze drifting inside. He parted his lips as if to speak, then closed them again. After a brief pause, he turned away.

There was none of the usual approach, none of the coaxing demand that Yuri hurry and join him. Yuri looked down at the sunglasses still resting in his hand. He decided he would return them and thank Cherriot for the loan. Dolly had given him a chance to reconsider his decision, but Yuri felt he needed to respect Cherriot’s boundaries.

He had already prioritized his own emotions, burdening Cherriot that morning. This time, he wanted to create the distance Cherriot desired. He belatedly remembered T-Mac complaining that young people formed intimate relationships too easily; perhaps his own approach could never align with someone like Cherriot.

Swallowing a quiet sigh, Yuri tightened his grip on the sunglasses and reached for the door handle.

A sharp rap against the passenger window made him look up. Cherriot stood close to the glass, gazing down at him. Yuri stared helplessly into the green eyes visible beneath the cap, then lowered the window.

“Wolfie, would you eat with us, if you don’t mind?”

Cherriot spoke the instant the glass descended, his voice urgent. Yuri’s heart, which he had deliberately forced into resignation, began to hammer against his ribs. His pulse accelerated, and the pallor of his expressionless face gradually softened.

“I don’t know when I’ll return to Vancouver. If we separate now, we may not see each other for a while. So… I want to have dessert with you.”

Cherriot watched his reaction with intense scrutiny, not looking away.

When Yuri remained silent, Cherriot’s beautiful brows curved with anxious tenderness. In the awkward silence, his fingers tapped softly against the window frame.

As Yuri’s silence continued, Cherriot asked again in a subdued voice, “Do you not want to?” The expression on his face was enough to make anyone watching ache for him.

Yuri quietly clenched his fist, the pulse in his palm beating so rapidly it made him nauseated.

I have no idea what you’re thinking. You remember every insignificant thing, come back to ask me this, and make me think you feel the same way I do. Then you say you can’t be with anyone because of the trust and draw a line between us, making everything we did feel like a midsummer night’s game.

Faced with the heart of a younger man he could not decipher, Yuri slowly parted his lips. “Alright.”

The anxious face waiting for him made prolonged thought impossible.

The moment Yuri broke the silence, joy flooded Cherriot’s eyes. Watching the smile bloom there, Yuri thought he was beginning to understand what Cherriot looked like when he was truly sincere. His usual confident smile was flawless, but when something he genuinely wanted happened, his eyes brightened first.

Light spread from the centers of his pale-green irises.

The corners of his eyes curved, and only then did his pink lips form an uneven arc, revealing the dimple on one cheek.

Then… perhaps I still have a chance. Not now, but after Cherriot inherits the trust. If, even then, he hasn’t met anyone else and still smiles at me this way…

The moment Yuri opened the door, Cherriot held it for him, waiting until he climbed out. As they walked toward the cafe, Cherriot opened the entrance and held the door for him. Before ordering, he studied the menu board and turned to Yuri.

“What are you having, Wolfie?”

The cafe smelled of fresh baking. It appeared to prepare Russian desserts, dumplings, and soups for both the cafe and the attached grocery store. Despite the early lunch hour, quite a few customers were inside.

Yuri looked around and found Dolly sitting in a corner with Benji, eating cake. When Benji turned to look, Dolly stopped him with a sharp remark, then met Yuri’s eyes and smiled, as if to say, See?

Yuri was still wondering if he was deceiving himself, or if Cherriot genuinely cared but had some reason he could no longer approach him.

Then Cherriot whispered beside him, “If there’s something Wolfie likes, I want to try it too. Dolly always eats nothing but Napoleon.”

Yuri studied the desserts in the display case. They were called Russian desserts, but there was only one he recognized.

“… Medovik.”

“Medovik?”

“That one.”

Yuri lifted a hand, pointing toward the brown cake made from thin sponge layers alternating with honey and cream. He had deliberately avoided even speaking its name, not wanting to remember the past. Now, he said it aloud.

“All right. I’ll have that too. Let’s share one.”

For a long time, Yuri had avoided sweet foods because their taste reminded him of his mother. Whenever sweetness spread across his tongue, the memory of making Medovik with the woman he would never see again returned.

Once he recalled the past, other memories clung to it: the childhood when they had been poor but happy, and the nights before Alexei’s parents died, when the families shared food and held small parties. The longing was usually painful enough to make Yuri feel he might die.

And yet now, even after recalling the past, Yuri did not feel as though the grief would kill him. Instead, the only thought circling his mind was whether Cherriot would enjoy the cake.

They ordered two coffees and one slice of Medovik, then sat at a table beside the window.

Facing each other was awkward for a moment. Then Cherriot picked up his fork, cut a small piece, and both their attention settled on the cake. Yuri was about to explain that he had not tasted it in so long that perhaps it would not be as good as he remembered.

“Delicious.” Cherriot leaned forward, met Yuri’s eyes, and smiled with satisfaction.

There was no need to say anything else. With his mask pulled slightly down, his face remained visible only to Yuri.

Watching him, Yuri reached out with his own fork. He cut down through the edge, and the soft sponge separated easily. Taking care not to scatter crumbs, he placed the small piece into his mouth.

Sweetness spread across his tongue.

Despite the days when merely smelling sugar had made his stomach turn, the Medovik tasted good. Behind the deep sweetness created by honey and cream, Yuri remembered himself as a child, looking up as his mother made the cake. He remembered what that child had thought: Someday, in the distant future, if I ever met someone I wanted to protect, I would like to make Medovik with them.

“Yuri, how is it?” Cherriot asked, waiting for his judgment.

“It’s good.”

“Does it taste like the one you remember?”

“A little different.”

“What’s different?”

“The flavor changes depending on how the sour cream is prepared.”

Cherriot listened with interest, then cut off a larger piece. He chewed with surprising elegance before asking, “When we go back to Vancouver, should we search for a place that makes Medovik like the one you remember? I’m curious.”

“… There’s also a way to make it.”

Cherriot smiled so widely that the dimple appeared in one cheek. “Judging by the sandwiches Wolfie makes, that seems unlikely.”

Yuri’s blue eyes curved softly. “Dessert may be different.”

“Then I’ll have to get back to Vancouver quickly so we can find out.”

Cherriot finished the Medovik neatly. Twice, he offered Yuri another bite with his fork, but Yuri shook his head, drinking his coffee while freely watching Cherriot eat. For now, one bite was enough.

The moment Cherriot finished the cake, Benji came looking for them.

Seeing them seated across from each other, apparently sharing one slice, he spoke with open disapproval. “Two Alphas sharing a piece of cake. You aren’t even dating. It’s embarrassing, Cherry.”

The instant Benji finished, silence settled between them. Sensing something strange, Benji’s eyes sharpened as he glared at Yuri. Before he could say anything resembling ‘you shouldn’t associate with a man like this,’ Cherriot placed his fork on the table.

“Let’s go, Benji. Didn’t you say the flight was around noon?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“No, Yuri. We should get going. When you arrive…” Cherriot hesitated before adding, “My number should be in your missed calls.” Blocking Benji with his body when the man attempted to move closer, Cherriot smiled playfully and cupped a hand to his ear. “Call me.”

With his business concluded, Cherriot hurried Benji away from Yuri and out of the cafe. Dolly was already outside, smoking. When she saw them emerge, she glanced toward the window where Yuri sat and gave him a small nod.

Yuri watched Cherriot lead Benji to the car. He watched Dolly return to the driver’s seat, resting one arm over the window before pulling out of the lot. Only after they disappeared did he set down his coffee cup. The tangled thoughts that had persisted throughout the journey became simple as he ate the cake. It didn’t matter whether Yuri was someone special to Cherriot.

What mattered was that Cherriot was special to Yuri—the warm man who had brought color to someone who had lived only inside a dry, gray city.

He was the man whose smile was beautiful and who knew how to race with more freedom than anyone else. Yuri had resolved to do anything for a man like that, then briefly wavered for a foolish reason. Cherriot’s people had arrived and did not welcome Yuri, so he had assumed he should retreat.

But Yuri had never wanted anything from Cherriot in the first place. Rather, Yuri wanted to give him something—safety.

He decided that he would help in his own way until Cherriot no longer needed to hide his beautiful face beneath hats and masks. According to Dolly, the guards in Boston would probably be more than sufficient, but no one could predict how these matters would unfold.

Yuri wanted to see the face of the person trying to kill Cherriot with his own eyes. He needed to look at the bastard who had dared force Cherriot into this situation.

Having made his decision, Yuri left the cafe and began walking toward the car.

His phone rang.

He picked up the vibrating device and, for one instant, thought Cherriot might already be calling. Then he saw the name on the screen and immediately answered.

“Alyosha.”

—“Yuri, I found it.”

Alexei spoke before Yuri could ask what he had been doing for four days without contacting anyone. His whisper carried a trace of exhilaration, along with urgency at the little time remaining.

—“Come to Boston. I’m already here.”

Alexei named the very destination Yuri had chosen.

A chill ran through Yuri the moment he heard the low voice. The sensation struck like revelation, leaving him certain that this was what he had to do: protect Cherriot. Whatever happens, remain beside him.

A voice from somewhere spoke the command.

🜼 🜼 🜼