Page 21

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I thought Maeve was being over the top, but my mom is never outdone.

She fainted.

Like full-out, Scarlett O’Hara, hand to her temple, fainted.

All she was missing was being at the top of the stairs so she could roll down.

God, I’ve missed her dramatics.

I didn’t even get a good look at her, or even get my arms around her, before she collapsed to the floor. I hope she isn’t faking it, because my dad sure does step right over her to wrap me up in his arms, his tears wetting my face as he holds me tightly to his wide, barrel chest. His cologne relaxes me as I nuzzle my face into him. He’s still bigger than life, but I doubt even more three years have changed that much of him. He grasps my face, meeting my gaze, and my heart clenches in my chest. Unlike my hazel eyes and strawberry-blond hair, my dad has blond hair and light green eyes. His face has sharp features, a very prominent nose, while mine is quaint. Tears fall from his eyes, and I clutch his wrists.

“My love,” he breathes, kissing my cheeks over and over. “I have missed you so very much.”

“I’ve missed you, Daddy,” I whimper, leaning into him.

He kisses my nose. “Where have you been? Why did you leave for so long without calling us? We missed you.”

My throat closes up, and I shrug. “I had to go. I needed a restart.”

His eyes search mine. “Did you find it?”

His question rattles my soul. No, I didn’t, but I had the most beautiful little girl, which may be better than a restart. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

He squeezes my face. “Don’t leave like that again, okay?” There is no anger, just love in his eyes, as he strokes my cheeks. “I can’t bear to be without you again.”

“I know, Daddy. I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs. “We always knew you’d fly the nest one day, just didn’t expect you to do it and cut us off.”

I’m shaking my head before he even finishes his sentence. “Daddy, I didn’t mean to cut you off like that. I just shut down.”

He squeezes my jaw. “Did we cause you to leave?”

“No, Dad. It was nothing like that.” My eyes plead with his. “I just had to get away, but I didn’t plan on staying away. It was easier to hide than come home.”

“I can understand that. I’m just glad you’re back.”

My heart skips in my chest as he brings me back into his arms. Against his chest, I ask, “Is Mom okay?”

“She’s fine,” he mutters, kissing my temple. He doesn’t let me go, but we both turn to find her sitting up, Maeve fanning her face, as Don speaks softly to Thatcher. My breath catches when his eyes move along my face as if he’s looking for any sign I’m not okay. My heart beats like a steel drum as his lips kick up at one side when he jerks his chin to my mom. He then gives me a shrug, as if to say, “What can you do?”

He’s not wrong.

I tear my gaze from his to check on my mom when her arms wrap around me, and she knocks me back into my dad. “Jesus, Anya,” he grunts, holding us up.

“ Malyshonuk , my love. Oh, sweet God, it’s you,” Mom cries, cupping my face before pressing her head to mine. “I thought you left me for good.”

“Never,” I whisper as I cling to her. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

She lets out a broken scoff. “Oh malyshonuk , I could never. I don’t understand why you left me. How could you? We love you so much. Did you not feel loved?”

“Of course I did, Mom. I just needed a change.”

“Then you change and call me while you do it. You don’t leave me for over three years, no words, no letters, no goddamn pigeon! I have missed you so very much.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She leans in, her face splotchy as she sniffs through her tears. “You left because of him?”

“Mom,” I try, but she isn’t having it.

“I know it was because of him,” she says, and then she narrows her eyes before directing her glare at Thatcher. He stands tall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, the picture of calm. “You may have brought her back, but I know you’re the reason she left.”

“The reason doesn’t matter. It’s between us?—”

“But we suffered!” my mom bellows, and Maeve rubs her back.

“We all have, Thatcher included, Anya,” Maeve tries, but Mom is almost in hysterics.

Her brown eyes lock with mine as she continues, “If only you’d talked to us, malyshonuk . We could have helped.”

“It wasn’t something that could be spoken about,” I explain as I squeeze Mom’s hand. “Please accept my apology, Mom.”

She clings to my arm, bringing me in close. “I do, malyshonuk , but I will always blame him.”

Against her cheek, I beg, “Don’t. We’re both at fault here.”

“It was my fault,” Thatcher speaks up, and my shoulders fall. I don’t want there to be animosity between our families. My mom tears away from me, her eyes narrowed to slits, but he isn’t the least bit scared.

“Guys, please,” I plead. “We are both at fault, but it’s between him and me.”

“We will deal with our issues—without anyone’s help,” Thatcher adds, and I swallow hard.

My mom is ready to spit fire, and Maeve tries to soothe her. But I can tell she’s pissed at her son too. Guilt floods me as I try to think of how to protect him, which is insane. Let them tear him apart; he is the reason I left. But I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone to blame anyone. I just want to move forward.

But how?

I look away from them, and Don steals my gaze. His eyes are full of apprehension and fear. Thatcher favors him in the height and weight department, and he also has his dad’s olive skin. Thatcher’s hair is a mix of his mom’s dark and his dad’s light brown, but his eyes are all his mom’s. Don Orlov played in the NHL for ten years and wore his ear gear the whole time. It was the only way anyone knew he was hard of hearing, because his speech has always been clear. He takes a deep breath and says to me, “I am so glad you’re home, Audrina. It’s very good to see you.”

I smile at him. “You too, Don.”

“I have missed you greatly.”

My lips wobble. “I have missed you.”

He looks around the room at everyone. “At the end of the day, even though they are our babies, they are adults. They’re right—what happened is between them, and all we can do is be here for them if they want our advice. Instead of fighting or placing blame, I want to welcome our girl Audrina home and give her a safe space. We are her home, not her judge and jury.”

My breath gets caught in my chest as I look up at Thatcher. Will Don still say that when we introduce Arwen to them?

Thatcher gives me a supportive smile, and his eyes tell me everything will be fine. It’s mind-blowing that after all that has happened, I can still read him so clearly.

After I tear my gaze from his, Dad nods in agreement. “Don is right. She’s home. That’s all that matters.”

“Yes, and we are so thankful you are,” Maeve says, cupping my jaw. “So very beautiful. I have missed you so much.”

I lean into her hand. “I’ve missed you.”

My gaze locks with my mom’s once more, and I plead with her with my eyes. “Please, Mom. I don’t want Thatcher’s and my issues to come between this family.”

She sighs. “I guess you’re right. I don’t want to end up on that show because I killed my neighbor.”

Maeve snorts. “We’re the ones with the guns.”

“And I know the code to the safe,” Mom throws back, to which everyone chuckles. Mom wraps her arms around me, but then her brows pinch. “Your hair is terrible. Is it box color?”

I snort, but before I can answer her, Thatcher tells her, “She even wore loads of makeup to cover her freckles.”

Mom and Maeve whip their gazes back to me. Mom tsks at me while Maeve chokes out, “No way!”

“Yeah. I was on the run.”

Maeve shakes her head. “We’ll need to get you in with my hairdresser. I’ll see if she has an opening tomorrow.”

I go to decline since I don’t know what we have going on, and I sure as hell can’t have Arwen sitting in a salon, but before I can, my mom pinches my belly. “You have gained weight.” She cups my face. “It’s good weight, though, makes you look more womanly.”

I give her a look. “Did I look like a boy before?”

“I didn’t think so,” Thatcher says, and when I flash him a look, he just grins, that damn hat low on his eyes. Warmth fills my belly, and I have to look away before he can tell.

Mom isn’t impressed with him, asking me, “Where were you? Was the food good?”

I chuckle, nodding. “I worked in a diner. We specialized in a Dutch baby. I ate a few or a hundred,” I say with a shrug, and it’s not a lie. I did eat a lot, and I had an eight-pound baby.

We aren’t there yet, though.

Dad’s brows pull in. “What the hell is a Dutch baby?”

“Think of the size of a stack of pancakes, but it’s only one,” Thatcher explains. “I had three while I was there. Plain, strawberry, and hazelnut.”

“That sounds delicious,” Don says, licking his lips. “I will ask Chef Portia if she knows how to make them.”

Mom cups my jaw and rubs her thumb along my cheek. “Let’s sit. Tell us everything?—”

“Sorry.” At Ingrid’s voice, I freeze in my parents’ arms. I turn to find Ingrid with only her head in the doorway.

“Ingrid, love, come see Audrina,” Maeve tells her, but Ingrid waves her off.

With one hand, she is signing while she speaks, “I already saw her. I tried calling you, Thatcher. Small problem.”

Thatcher and I are moving before she finishes. When we get to the doorway, I find Arwen between her legs, grinning up at us, basically vibrating with excitement. Mommy, Daddy, it’s Ingrid!

I beam down at her, cupping her face. I know!

“She’s hungry, and there are no snacks in the car,” Ingrid says with a dry look. “Poor parenting, in my opinion. There should always be snacks.”

I snort at that. We are a very snacky group. “We ate them all on the way here.”

Thatcher chuckles before turning his hat backward and bending down to be at eye level with Arwen. “We did, and also malyshonuk is always hungry, yes?” Thatcher says and signs.

Arwen nods eagerly, but then I watch as she looks over his shoulder, and her eyes go wide. I quirk my brow before she excitedly signs, Baba !

My breath gets caught in my throat, but before I can turn and see which Baba it is, I hear a body hit the floor.

Yep, my mom fainted again.