Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“My love,” he breathes, kissing my cheeks over and over. “I have missed you so very much.”
“I’ve missed you, Daddy,” I whimper, leaning into him.
He kisses my nose. “Where have you been? Why did you leave for so long without calling us? We missed you.”
My throat closes up, and I shrug. “I had to go. I needed a restart.”
His eyes search mine. “Did you find it?”
His question rattles my soul. No, I didn’t, but I had the most beautiful little girl, which may be better than a restart. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
He squeezes my face. “Don’t leave like that again, okay?” There is no anger, just love in his eyes, as he strokes my cheeks. “I can’t bear to be without you again.”
“I know, Daddy. I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs. “We always knew you’d fly the nest one day, just didn’t expect you to do it and cut us off.”
I’m shaking my head before he even finishes his sentence. “Daddy, I didn’t mean to cut you off like that. I just shut down.”
He squeezes my jaw. “Did we cause you to leave?”
“No, Dad. It was nothing like that.” My eyes plead with his. “I just had to get away, but I didn’t plan on staying away. It was easier to hide than come home.”
“I can understand that. I’m just glad you’re back.”
My heart skips in my chest as he brings me back into his arms. Against his chest, I ask, “Is Mom okay?”
“She’s fine,” he mutters, kissing my temple. He doesn’t let me go, but we both turn to find her sitting up, Maeve fanning her face, as Don speaks softly to Thatcher. My breath catches when his eyes move along my face as if he’s looking for any sign I’m not okay. My heart beats like a steel drum as his lips kick up at one side when he jerks his chin to my mom. He then gives me a shrug, as if to say, “What can you do?”
He’s not wrong.
I tear my gaze from his to check on my mom when her arms wrap around me, and she knocks me back into my dad. “Jesus, Anya,” he grunts, holding us up.
“Malyshonuk, my love. Oh, sweet God, it’s you,” Mom cries, cupping my face before pressing her head to mine. “I thought you left me for good.”
“Never,” I whisper as I cling to her. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”
She lets out a broken scoff. “Oh malyshonuk, I could never. I don’t understand why you left me. How could you? We love you so much. Did you not feel loved?”
“Of course I did, Mom. I just needed a change.”
“Then you change and call me while you do it. You don’t leave me for over three years, no words, no letters, no goddamn pigeon! I have missed you so very much.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She leans in, her face splotchy as she sniffs through her tears. “You left because of him?”
“Mom,” I try, but she isn’t having it.
“I know it was because of him,” she says, and then she narrows her eyes before directing her glare at Thatcher. He stands tall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, the picture of calm. “You may have brought her back, but I know you’re the reason she left.”
“The reason doesn’t matter. It’s between us—”
“But we suffered!” my mom bellows, and Maeve rubs her back.
“We all have, Thatcher included, Anya,” Maeve tries, but Mom is almost in hysterics.
Her brown eyes lock with mine as she continues, “If only you’d talked to us, malyshonuk. We could have helped.”
“It wasn’t something that could be spoken about,” I explain as I squeeze Mom’s hand. “Please accept my apology, Mom.”
She clings to my arm, bringing me in close. “I do, malyshonuk, but I will always blame him.”
Against her cheek, I beg, “Don’t. We’re both at fault here.”
“It was my fault,” Thatcher speaks up, and my shoulders fall. I don’t want there to be animosity between our families. My mom tears away from me, her eyes narrowed to slits, but he isn’t the least bit scared.
“Guys, please,” I plead. “We are both at fault, but it’s between him and me.”
“We will deal with our issues—without anyone’s help,” Thatcher adds, and I swallow hard.
My mom is ready to spit fire, and Maeve tries to soothe her. But I can tell she’s pissed at her son too. Guilt floods me as I try to think of how to protect him, which is insane. Let them tear him apart; he is the reason I left. But I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone to blame anyone. I just want to move forward.
But how?
I look away from them, and Don steals my gaze. His eyes are full of apprehension and fear. Thatcher favors him in the height and weight department, and he also has his dad’s olive skin. Thatcher’s hair is a mix of his mom’s dark and his dad’s light brown, but his eyes are all his mom’s. Don Orlov played in the NHL for ten years and wore his ear gear the whole time. It was the only way anyone knew he was hard of hearing, because his speech has always been clear. He takes a deep breath and says to me, “I am so glad you’re home, Audrina. It’s very good to see you.”