Page 122 of Emerald Malice

Aunt Annie’s smile, just like her gaze, is cryptic and all-knowing. “Well, no wonder the two of you move around each other like magnets with the same poles. Just like I thought,” she says quietly, “you two are alike.”

“We aren’t,” I insist. “It’s not like that.”

Aunt Annie cups my cheek fondly. “If you say so, Nic-Nat. Now, how about another piece of pie?”

On the way out, Andrey seems to know what he’s in for. He doesn’t offer Aunt Annie his hand, but instead leans in and gives her a one-armed hug.

I’m holding the door open for Remi to bound down the steps, but when I turn back around, I realize that they’re still hugging. Andrey’s neck is craned to the side as though Aunt Annie is whispering a secret to him.

A moment later, they split apart.

I glance at my aunt questioningly, but she simply smiles and plants a kiss on my forehead. “You take care of that baby now. And don’t be a stranger, my girl.”

Once Remi is secure in the back seat, I get into the car and roll down the window to wave some more. I don’t stop waving until we’ve turned the corner and Aunt Annie disappears behind a sheath of maple leaves.

I wait, nervous, for Andrey to break the silence. He barely glances at me as we leave the neighborhood in our rearview mirror.

After twenty minutes of excruciating silence, I’m the first to crack. “So… that was my aunt.”

One corner of Andrey’s mouth curls up in a smile. “Give me credit for figuring out that much, lastochka.”

My heart flutters wildly. Get a grip, girl. We’re just talking.

The thing is, Aunt Annie’s remarks have burrowed their way into my consciousness now. And it’s got me thinking?—

What if he’s more like me than I realize?

What if he’s holding onto his pain the same way I hold onto mine?

What if extending some trust is all it’ll take to get him to trust me in return?

I twist back to pet Remi, but my eyes don’t venture past Andrey’s profile. Past the golden afternoon sunlight setting him in sharp, handsome relief. “Thanks for coming with me.”

His hand tightens on the wheel. “You’re welcome.”

“She means a lot to me, my aunt,” I continue.

“You two seem close.”

My heart is hammering hard against my chest. Talking about this—any of it—feels like stripping naked in front of a crowd of strangers.

But, I remind myself, Andrey is not a stranger. Not unless you force him to be.

“I don’t think I would have survived without her.”

“You’re tougher than you think.”

“You didn’t see me after my parents died.” I swallow hard, my throat painfully dry. “I was… destroyed, honestly. I spent those first six months in a sort of daze. I wanted to die. I thought that was the only way to be with them again.”

He looks over, those startling gray eyes boring into my face and making my skin tingle with heat.

I can’t think when he’s looking at me like that, so I turn to the windshield before I continue. “I couldn’t function. I barely ate or slept. Couldn’t go to school. It was the first time I experienced a catatonic episode. You saw what that was like.”

His eyes are back on the road, but I can tell he’s listening with rapt attention. Even Remi has stopped moving. It’s as if he senses the tension in the air.

“Aunt Annie quit her job to homeschool me. Four times a week, I went to a child psychiatrist that the state recommended. Between those sessions and Aunt Annie’s dedication, I started showing signs of life again.” I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “She still thinks it’s the therapy that helped. But I know that she was the reason I got better. Her love, her care, her unfailing faith that I would come back.” I exhale. “I hope to be the kind of mother she is.”

“You will be.” He says it so confidently. No doubts.

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