She looks at me and nods. “Can I help water them? Or pull the weeds? Do you weed them a lot? I like doing that with the window boxes at home. It’s like a puzzle but smells better.”
“There’s not a lot of weeds right now, but we can water them. If it’s okay with your mom.” I look over to Avelina who’s watching us intently. Sofia also looks to her mom who nods.
I grab a watering can from the hook where it hangs next to a slew of gardening tools and gloves.
A minute later, Sofia is carefully pouring the water at the roots of the plants while I watch, arms crossed. She’s a natural, just like I thought she’d be.
My eyes flicker to Avelina who’s giving Sofia an encouraging thumbs up. The afternoon sun catches the auburn highlights in herhair, and I find myself cataloging details I’ve no business noticing. The way she unconsciously bites her lower lip when she’s concentrating on the kids and the soft curve of her neck where her ponytail has shifted to one side. I drag my eyes away, but my gaze keeps drifting back like some magnetic field is enticing it.
But it’s Avelina’s smile that makes me stagger a little off-kilter. It’s a smile that lights up her green eyes in a way that makes them sparkle and crinkle at the corners. Sunshine. That’s what it’s like.Sunshine against your face after a cold storm. The kind of sunshine I savored in Russia once the winter snow broke and spring teased us with its presence.
I swallow thickly. Because that smile does something to me.
It lights up the world around me and makes my chest feel tight.
And I want to see it more.
I need to see it more.
Whatever it takes.
It’s late afternoon, and I insist Avelina takes a nap upstairs while we keep an eye on the children downstairs.
The men’s boisterous shouts and bellowing laughs boom through the rec room. One man shoves his chair from the table, making the back of the chair slam into the wall. I hate noise like this. But even worse, I notice that Sofia is really struggling with it too.
Her fingers curl tightly around her stuffed bunny—and I see her flinch every time someone shouts. Her little shoulders hunch higher with each burst of noise, until she’s practically trying to disappear. Her tiny fingers tremble, and I feel a rage unfurl within me. My jaw locks.No kid should look that scared in my house—ever.
I crouch beside her, lowering my voice, so it’s just for her. “Hey, little bird,” I murmur in a soft tone. “I’ll fix it.”
She blinks up at me, solemn and silent, then nods once. Brave little thing.
I stand and stride toward the men, jerking my head toward thehallway. They follow me slowly, whining that I’m disturbing their downtime. When we’re far enough away that Sofia can’t hear, I turn on them. “New rules,” I grit out. “Listen carefully, because I’m only saying this fucking once.”
The men exchange looks.
“No more slamming chairs like you’re in some kind of goddamn WWE match,” I growl.
“Aw, Viktor…”
“No yelling loud enough to make the neighbors think we’re murdering someone,” I snap.
The men shift as they start to look nervous.
“And this is the most important rule—no sneaking up on the kid like you’re auditioning for a fucking horror movie. You scare her again,you’ll be the ones fucking screaming.”
A few of them actually wince.
I let the threat hang there for a beat before I lean in. “She’s six. She’s got more guts than half of you clowns. Don’t make her regret being here.”
They all nod furiously, mumbling promises and apologies.
When I return to the room, Sofia is still clutching her bunny, but now her eyes are on me. A little less fear, a little more trust.It’s a start.
I meet with our doctor that evening. “What did you find?” I grit out without greeting. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine right now. But…” He sighs. “The scan showed she suffered multiple fractures in the past.”
I let that information filter through my brain. “Was she in an accident?”
