Page 103 of Beautiful Scar

“Listen, I’m so happy we got to see each other, but I came for him. Would you mind?”

He smirks slightly and drinks his tea. “Should’ve known. My sister, coming to visit me? Never in a million years.”

“Evan—”

“I’m teasing. I’m honestly just happy you’re out and about.” He pauses as he pushes to his feet. “I mean, you are out and about?”

“More than I ever was before,” I say with a smile, and I really mean it. “I’m going to check out my old room.”

“All right, I’ll go track down the old man. I’m sure he’ll be interested in talking.”

I head upstairs while Evan makes his calls. A strange wave of sadness rushes over me, tinged by a sepia-toned nostalgia.

If I hadn’t married Tigran, where would I be right now?

I step into my old suite and look around the deeply, sadly familiar living area.

It feels so drab. Same old couch, same old table. Same TV, magazines, books, and carpet. It’s so much smaller now, at least compared to the suite back home.

But it’s also mine. This was my space for twelve years. The reading nook. The me-shaped indent on the far end of the couch. Pictures from high school on the bookcases, little collectible Tamagotchi toys I got super into ordering for a while. The strange stages of my life laid out like rock strata. I can almost trace the way I’ve changed from year to year just based on the books on the shelves.

The bedroom’s the same. Bathroom too. Like Dad never bothered to come in here after I left. There are a few things I want to take back with me, and I find a bag in the closet. Old yearbooks tumble out and I smile to myself. Tigran will get a kick out of pictures of awkward teenage me. I lose track of time reminiscing, hating myself for wasting so much time in here and generally letting a wave of strange emotion flood over me, and I don’t hear the door open until my father appears in my bedroom door.

He looks in at me. His nose is healed, but there’s still a bump on the bridge where it snapped. The bruises on his neck are longfaded now. But there’s something new on him I haven’t seen before.

Fear, genuine fear.

“Hello, Dad.” I stand up and toss the packed bag onto my bed. “The place is just like I left it.”

“I kept it this way in case you decided to come home.” He frowns at me but doesn’t move to come closer. “I saw your husband out front. He didn’t come in?”

“I’m here on my own.” I stare at my father and harness all those emotions I’ve been dealing with. My anger, my sadness. So much missed opportunity, so many good years flushed into seclusion.

Dad nods, looking old and small. He lifts his hands and flexes his fingers. “I hear you’re pregnant.” He lets his palm drop. “Congratulations,Dashenka.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you know the sex yet?”

I shake my head. “We’re finding out at the twenty-week anatomy scan. I think I’m about ten weeks right now. I probably shouldn’t even be telling anyone until after twelve.”

“I’m happy for you. Is he treating you well?”

I cross my arms, straighten my spine, and raise my chin. This time, I’m not going for meek and submissive. I’m not going for prim and distant.

This time, I let him see my anger.

“You failed me,” I tell him, staring into his eyes.

He flinches. “I know. But you don’t understand.”

“Make me understand then.”

“Seamus’s father was too powerful. If we had killed the boy like I wanted, there would have been enormous problems for the Bratva. In the end, Oleg ordered me to take the deal, and when thepakhanspeaks, you must listen.”

I bristle at that. What a cowardly explanation. He was just following orders?

God, that’s pathetic.

---