Rayko sauntered past us, muttering in our native tongue about my ass being busted. He set Brady down on the couch in the living room and the rustle of the white bag said breakfast was underway.
“He was perfectly safe,” I countered.
“I left him here. Asleep!” Poppy shoved a hand through her hair. The suit jacket sloped off her shoulder. She tugged it backin place before letting out a growl and wrenching the buttons loose to rip it free.
“We had to move him so the men could work,” I argued. “It was an all- night project to clean this place up.”To bring it to your standards!
Glad I bit my tongue, I breathed heavy. I didn’t want this to poison what I’d done here, turning angry words on her.
“Ivan, when it comes to that boy, I need to know where he is at all times. I need to know he’s safe,” she insisted.
A bubble of anger popped inside me. “My son will always be safe.”
Poppy pressed her lips tight. Her head shook once. Then again. “Unbelievable.”
She stalked away, and I didn’t think the discovery of new furniture was enough to blanket the wrath simmering inside her. When it came to the child, she was inflexible.
I was right.
Poppy was furious.
Yanking the blackout curtains in my bedroom, I plunged the space into darkness. But I couldn’t just lie down and sleep. My mind was restless.
Going to the dresser where I’d hidden her phone, I plugged it into the charger and opened it. I already did a cursory search the first night I brought her here. But today, I wanted to better understand the woman playing catch outside with my son. Her short nap at Nosh seemed enough to bolster her against the ball of energy that was the boy.
Flopping onto my side, I tucked the pillow under my head. I’d thought about joining them, but clearly the she-wolf needed space.
So I invaded her previous life.
There were several apps on her phone. Each held more of a mystery than the others. A part of Poppy’s life was captured in pretty, stylized photos. While the majority were books, she also shared day-to-day activities. A calf being bottle fed. Fresh bread cooling in the sunlight. A slow video of the leaves falling in her front yard. Last summer, she made jams and preserves. The captions were elusive, but the images contained enough of the story for me to piece it together. The boy was there too. But Poppy always took photos from behind, or if his face was in view, she covered it with a funny, cartoon yellow face that corresponded to his reaction.
Always protecting.
I sighed and shut the thing off.
Her position was understandable. She thought the boy had been one place, and he’d been moved without her knowledge. But it was frustrating that I could see her side of things while she stubbornly refused to see it from my point. I would never put my son in harm’s way.
And I knew in my heart, no amount of books, changing the house, or other homey things would make her like this place if she didn’t believe me.
Chapter 18 – Poppy
He’s a really good dad.
It pained me to admit it. But only a little. For a Tuesday morning, the zoo was quiet. There were tourists, and lots of moms with kids of various ages in tow. A lot of the dads were on their phones or looking bored.
Not Ivan.
“Tatko, tatko!” Brady pointed enthusiastically to the next encloser. “What’s that?”
Ivan narrowed his eyes—as he’d done several times, I noticed—at the sign. “A…kl-ip-spr-ing-er. Klipspringer.”
The habitat sign showed they were native to Africa.
“Huh, the females grow slightly larger than the males,” I read from behind. “That’s odd.”
“Why, mama?” Brady turned his face up to me.
“Because normally the males are bigger and stronger to protect their families.” Ivan wasn’t looking at the boy as he spoke.
