Page 7 of Forged By Sacrifice

I’d met with one of the roommates, Daniella, and felt an instant connection. She was sassy and professional all at the same time. The apartment, with its views of the Capitol building, had still seemed too good to be true, but Daniella had said her family liked to rent the loft as a way of helping college students. I liked her and the loft, so I took it for what it was: a gift. I placed a down payment, got a key, and hoped the other roommate, Daniella’s brother, wouldn’t be a total schmuck when I finally got to meet him.

RAISA: I am a little jealous. I will be stuck in the dorms for a year.

It wasn’t going to be a hardship. She’d been accepted to Stanford University and was going to be staying in the best dorms they had. My stepdad, Petya, wouldn’t have any less for his daughter.

ME: While I know you’ll have a blast living in the dorms, the thought of me having to experience it again makes me want to vomit.

RAISA: We will both be college students.

It was hard to reconcile the fact that I was going to be in college again. Getting back into law school after the years away had been simultaneously easier and harder than I thought. I was ready to restart the dream I’d put on hold for five years. I was just hoping law school would be different from my first years of college life.

ME: Not the same. You’ll have everyone drooling over your Russian accent and pretty blonde hair, whereas I’ll be the slightly older woman with her nose in a book.

RAISA: I have almost no accent. My English is impeccable.

ME: Out of all that, you chose to focus on what I said about your accent? What happened to making me feel better about going back to school after all these years?

RAISA: It is you who said age is not a number, it is an attitude.

ME: I wasn’t the first person to say it, but it’s true.

RAISA: Then, do not worry about other students. Just have lots of attitude.

ME: ** Hair flip GIF **

RAISA: I have to go. Malik is using me as interference with Father again. What will he do when I am in the U.S.?

ME: Learn to stand up for himself.

RAISA: Love you, moy dorogoy.

ME: Love you, too, malyshka.

Raisa and I were ten years apart and lived on different continents, but we were closer than my half-brother and I. Probably because she’d spent the last few summers with me. Malik didn’t want anything to do with my tiny apartment above the salon. I was going to miss being with Raisa this summer as we both started new lives.

Shoes crunching on the shell path had me twisting my head. I almost felt the looming shape of Mac before it appeared over the dunes, as if my body had known all along that he’d find me, even after he’d gone downtown with Ava and Eli.

He sank down in the chair next to mine, that force-of-nature pull he had on me instantaneously coming back.

“Were all the single ladies at the bar too smart for your charm?” I asked.

He snorted, leaning his head on the back of the chair, gazing up into the night sky like I had been. His large body filled the space, and with his legs sprawling out toward the unlit firepit, it caused his knees to careen into mine. I pulled away, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“It was too exhausting tonight,” he responded.

“Must be pretty bad if you’re too exhausted to schmooze the fairer sex.”

A soft chuckle escaped his chest. “I’ve just spent two weeks in pretty much solitude on a boat. It takes a little to ease back into the real world.”

His voice was deep. Barrel deep? Was that the right description?

“Isn’t it dangerous to sail by yourself?”

He finally turned his head to look at me, and even in the dim light from the stars and the moon that had finally started to trek across the sky, I could see the flash of humor and more in those eyes.

“Did Ava tell you to harp on me about it? I swear she’s practicing being a parent before they’re even pregnant.”

“No. Ava and I don’t talk about you.”

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