I freeze.
I don’t feel safe to be touched. Not after what I did. Not after what I agreed to become.
But she’s already hugging my waist, small and trusting, rosemary shampoo and warmth where I don’t deserve any.
My throat burns.
I bend carefully and return the hug, measured and light, as if too much pressure might contaminate her. As if holding on too tightly would make me something worse.
“Hey, kid,” I say, and my voice cracks anyway.
She tilts her head back, studying my face. “You look sad.”
I swallow. “Do I?”
She nods solemnly. “Papa says when people look sad, you give them snacks.”
“Smart man.”
Dmitri appears in the hallway, tall and unreadable in black sweats. His gaze lands on me. No smile. No judgment. Just that steady, unflinching presence.
“Privet.”
“Hey.”
He scoops Amneris up, kisses the top of her head. She whispers something in his ear.
“She says you need snacks,” he translates flatly.
“Sounds right,” Liam mutters.
Sophie appears with a medical textbook tucked against her chest. Her expression shifts when she sees me—concern and something sharper beneath it.
“Oh, Kieran.”
I flinch anyway.
She stops a few feet away. Doesn’t touch me. Just looks straight at my face.
“You look like you got run over.”
“Feels like it.”
“Sit down,” Liam says.
I do. A leather chair by the windows. The Hudson stretches out in front of me like it might explain my life if I stare long enough.
Dmitri adjusts Amneris on his hip. “Time to go, Amnushka. Erin’s practicing for her concert tomorrow. We’ll be quiet when we get home,da?”
She pouts, then nods. “Yes, Papa.”
They’re gone moments later. Sophie waves her textbook once. “Quiz Monday. Good seeing you, Kieran.”
Then the door closes.
Liam doesn’t sit. He paces, slow and controlled. Coach McCarthy energy. Just better lighting.
“You should’ve called.”
