I want to go after her.
I want to demand more answers.
I want to pull her close and grip her waist and ask why she didn’t find me sooner, why she didn’t try, why she didn’t know—but I already know why.
Because six years ago, I was a shadow. Nothing more to her than a stranger at a masquerade. She could turn the same question back on me: if I cared, if she mattered, why hadn’t I sought her out?
After all, it’sherI’ve been dreaming of all these years. I didn’t have it in me to imagine that one day I’d find her again, that I could try to deserve her again. And I never could’ve imagined that she’d give me this gift.
I watch her silhouette shrink as she climbs the slight rise toward the trail where she last saw Andi, followed closely by Dima—her guard dog.
I watch until she disappears over the crest. Only then do I exhale.
Roxy said she didn’t know.
But nowIdo. And I have years to make up for.
Chapter 15
Roxy
The sun is lowering when I finally work up the nerve to leave the house. It’s mostly empty; our things are still back in Cambridge being packed up, but Andi has taken to the room that will be hers. She’s obsessed with the purple walls and deciding where to put her bed.
Late afternoon light glints off the hood of my SUV as I pull away from the driveway, but all I can feel is my grip tightening on the steering wheel. My palms are damp. I roll my shoulders once, twice, trying to loosen the knot of tension lodged under my collarbone. My phone pings, and a text from Dima comes through. Andi is with him for a few hours, as a favor, even though he’s off the clock. She calls him “Uncle D,” which seems to confuse and delight him all at once.
As I drive the short ten minutes into town, Mak’s face keeps flashing through my mind.
Not the anger, though that’s there too, sharp and bright and terrifying. It’s the momentafter.
When the fury cracked, and for half a second, something like hurt flashed across his face. It was something I hadn’t expected. It made him more human than I’ve ever seen him before.
I wish I hadn’t seen it.
No, that’s a lie. I wish I didn’tfeelanything because of it.
“That’s what you get for telling him,” I mutter under my breath, taking the turn into town a little too quickly. The tires squeal faintly against the asphalt, and I ease off the gas. Ijustgot the brakes changed along with the seized caliber that apparently gave up after the drive back from Cambridge. “You should’ve kept your mouth shut.”
But the truth sits bitter on my tongue: I couldn’t keep it from him. The moment he demanded answers, the moment Andrea’s name left his mouth—my instincts, my nerves, whatever it was told me to tell him the truth. Lying to Mak feels like stepping off a cliff.
Maybe a part of me wanted him to know.
I hate that.
“Get it together, Roxy,” I whisper, forcing a breath out.
The small downtown appears through the windshield, all quaint storefronts and weathered wooden signs. Tourists drift along the sidewalks with their ice cream and shopping bags. A couple of fishermen laugh beside their trucks, loading gear. Ordinary life goes on, completely unaware that a Bratva boss’s temper is circulating through my bloodstream like adrenaline.
I park outside the little cafe, the one with the mismatched patio furniture and hand-painted menu board. The bell above the door jingles when I push inside. Cool air washes over me—coffee, vanilla, something baked recently. The girl behind the counter smiles with the uncomplicated friendliness of someone who doesn’t know what I’ve stepped out of.
I envy her.
“Just a small iced coffee,” I say, my voice raspier than usual.
“No problem!” she chirps.
I take a seat by the window, sliding into a corner booth. My pulse is still too high, and I place my phone face down on thetable to stop myself from obsessively checking it. Andi isfine.If she’s safe with anyone, it’s Dima.
Mak would likely kill for her.The thought sneaks in, unbidden, and along with it a sense of relief and pride. I take another sip of the cold coffee, chastising myself; I shouldnotfind it reassuring that the father of my child would go on a killing spree if need be. Or maybe all mothers feel that way?
