"That you ran to save me when I was a baby," he dropped on her, so casually, without realizing the way her heart thundered. "That you got lost your way, and he was going to find you."
Her eyes tinged with moisture, locking with the man she'd met that fateful night that started it all. "That's right," she murmured to him, her lips trembling, her gaze coming back to her son.
"Are you still lost?"
She shook her head. She wasn't.
"I want to live with Tristan and Morana." His words made her heart full. "I love them. But I'd like to get to know you."
She stared at him, at the articulate way he spoke to her, which reminded her so much of Dainn's articulations. Maybe that's where he'd learned.
"Okay," she whispered before clearing her throat. "I'd like that too."
He looked at her again, for a second, before giving her a little piece of paper and walking out the door, where Dainn stood, his hands in his pockets, watching her silently. Xander told him he was going to see Morana and left them alone.
Lyla unfolded the paper, wondering if he'd picked up writing notes from Dainn too, and read the two words written in a childish scrawl, her nose tingling as tears ran down her cheeks. She pressed it to her chest, heaving in deep, long breaths, tattooing the two words onto her heart, her eyes locking with mismatched ones, six years ofsomethingpassing between them.
Two little words with the biggest meaning in the world.
Welcome home.
Lyla was finally home.