“I know. I think we’re all gonna have big feelings about this for a while. Big feelings are okay, but sometimes Dad is scary when he’s mad, right?”
They both nod.
“That’s why Deputy Mitchell was here.” Standing, I grab their hands and attempt to shift the focus. “I missed you two so much, and I hear Mayko is cooking dinner.”
Rudy grins. “She’s making moussaka.”
“And sarmi,” Maybelle says, brightening.
The three of us have our dad’s Central Texas twang, but we know all the Bulgarian words regarding food.
“Ooh, then we better get inside before it gets cold.”
I was supposed to be an only child, but my mom got pregnant with these two when I was ten years old. I’m sad they never got to know my father when he was kind, though, who knows? Maybe he was faking it back then and stopped hiding what an abusive asshole he’d been the entire time.
We walk into the house together and are greeted by Uncle Richard.
I go in for a hug, whispering, “Things go okay at the house?”
He squeezes me tight, whispering back. “More or less. My brother isn’t always the most reasonable, but having Deputy Mitchell there helped.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
He holds up his hands. “You’re family,” he explains. Pointing at the kitchen, he adds, “Speaking of which, your mom’s kinda upset. I’ll hang out here with these two—can you go check on her?”
I nod and slip into the kitchen, where she’s plating the sarmi while the moussaka bubbles in the oven. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my mom in person, and she looks smaller somehow.
“Hey, Mayko.”
She turns, and I forget how pretty she is, even with the bit of mascara smudged around her eyes.
“Ti se vurna!” she says, welcoming me back with a hug. I can tell she’s lost weight, and it kills me.
Mom was a model in Bulgaria when she was my age, and she’s no less beautiful now, in her mid-forties. Her hair is a thick chestnut color mixed with gray, but the freckles on her upturned nose make her seem ten years younger.
I pull back from the hug, and her face crumples. Tears begin to fall down her cheeks, and I rush to gather her back in my arms.
“It’s okay, Mayko. It will be okay.”
She looks down, fidgeting with her fingers. “I was so scared my young children would be taken away from me that I let him scare off my grown child. I’m so sorry, Tanner.”
I pull her in closer. “Uncle Richard has taken good care of me. It’s been nice staying here. I know you love me, and I know Dad makes it impossible. This way, we’ll be able to spend more time together.”
She nods. “I just know he is going to be so mad. But I couldn’t bear it for one more second.”
“I know, Mayko. Sheriff Patrick and his deputies will be watching out for us.”
She sniffs again, then grins through her tears. “I think your uncle likes that big deputy.”
“Really?”
She nods, then touches my face. “So pretty, your blue eyes with the black liner. It’s goth, but…” Her voice trails off into a gesture, not sure how to describe my burgeoning aesthetic.
“Goth, but make it gay,” I say, complete with jazz hands.
“Yes!” she says, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “So soft and pretty, the black with your Christmas hoodie. I like the blond.”
My hair was too light to dye black, so I went platinum and kept my darker brows.
