Mila nodded, her eyes glistening.
Donna straightened. “Okay. You go home, and do what you need to do. Say whatever you need to say. And when you’re ready, Helen will make it happen.”
“Okay.”
Donna stroked Mila’s cheek. “And when you finally get to the US, I’ll be waiting.” Then she wrapped her arms around Mila for the last time.
Nobody spoke.
When they finally pulled apart, Donna pressed a kiss to Mila’s forehead, and then Mila picked up her bag.
The movement seemed to break whatever spell had settled over the group. Goodbyes began all around us. Brooke hugged her, Nathan followed, and Noah squeezed her shoulder and told her she’d better answer her messages.
Even Ethan looked unexpectedly emotional. “I hate this part.”
Eventually she turned toward me, and for a moment we didn’t speak.
We’d spent years standing together, training, competing—surviving—and somewhere along the way she’d become so much a part of my life that I couldn’t remember what it felt like before.
Mila gazed into my eyes. “You know, this would be easier if you were coming with me.”
I swallowed. “I know.”
Her eyes searched mine. “Still sure about this?” I nodded, and her expression relaxed a little. “Good.”
My throat tightened again. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Neither do I.”
I pulled her into a hug, overwhelmed by memories of early morning training sessions, arguments, victories, defeats…
A lifetime compressed into a few seconds.
When I finally spoke, my voice sounded rough. “Thank you.”
Mila pulled back enough to look at me. “For what?”
“For staying.” Every time the world had demanded more than either of us wanted to give, she’d been there.
Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I’ll see you soon.”
That was better than goodbye.
I nodded. “Soon.”
She glanced at Dean. “Look after him, or you’ll have me to answer to.”
Dean smiled. “You had to make my last memory of you a scary one, didn’t you?”
She wiped her eyes and grinned. “But of course.”
A few minutes later, she’d disappeared through the doors, Donna staring at the space she’d occupied before announcing she needed more caffeine and hurrying away.
Dean rested a hand against my back. Then he muttered, “Well, there goes any chance of a quiet morning.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?” I turned around?—
Vasiliev had entered the lobby, accompanied by three federation officials, Sokolov a few steps behind them. One of the men pushed a luggage cart piled high with suitcases and bags.
