Page 109 of Little Blue

“I wasn’t. You know I wasn’t.”

“But?”

“But things changed. I’ve fallen in love with everyone. Ilya, Polina, and Danill. Luka, and Misha, and even you. You’ve all become important to me. Like the family I’ve wished for since my parents died.”

Boris shifts, clearly uncomfortable. He clears his throat. “How did that happen?”

I tell him how my parents went. How mom went in for routine dental work and never woke up. How dad couldn’t exist in a world without her, even if that meant leaving me behind, completely alone.

“There was no family to take you?”

“My mother was from Ireland. She met my father while he was vacationing, fell in love, and returned home with him to America. Her parents were furious, disowned her, and she never went back. My dad’s parents passed when he was younger. Both were only children, so there really was no one when I lost them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. I miss them.” Another long stretch of silence, and I ask, “What about your parents?”

“My mother is dead.”

“Oh, no.”

“She was murdered by my father.”

My horrified gasp is sharp as a blade as it cuts through the car. “Boris…”

“She knew who he was when she decided to betray him,” Boris says. “I am lucky he did not kill me, too.”

“Is—is he still in your life?”

“I see him from time to time.”

I gape in horror. I can’t imagine. “He didn’t go to prison?”

“No.”

I feel queasy. “Were you afraid to tell someone?”

His eyes land on mine in the mirror. “I was for a long time.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“There is very little to say. It happened a long time ago.” We make it to the city, and even though I’m relieved, all I want to do is turn around and go home so I can snuggle under the covers and read with Lucy purring close.

“I’m sorry, Boris.”

Boris looks at me in the rear-view as he signals, slowing as massive iron gates swing inward to allow us to turn into a wide dirt parking lot of what looks like a lot of construction warehouses. It’s clearly a very used area, as the fresh snow has been churned with the dirt of more than one car passing through.

I watch out the window as he rolls to a stop outside the furthest warehouse on the expansive property. He sits stone stiff for a long moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles are white.

His eyes lift from the windshield to the mirror, meeting mine. Then he says, “I’m sorry, too, Irelynn. I really am.”

My door flies open before I can reply.

I’m dragged forcibly from the car by two rough hands. I stumble in the snow, shrieking in surprise at the harsh treatment.

“Boris!” I scream for my guard, confused. Terrified.

He exits the driver’s seat slowly, his dark eyes cool on me before they move to the man who has me in his punishing grip.

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