Page 75 of The Breath Before Forever

“Still hiding from Mira outside?” she asked Kiril as she rounded the towering birch trees.

The teenager shrugged. “Not really. Just thought you might need some help with your bags.”

“Was today Vaslav’s drop-off day, or what?”

Kiril shrugged one shoulder, and then dropped his boots to the ground before pushing up from the step. “Nah, I’ve been here since the weekend.”

“Here,” she said.

“Da—yeah.”

“At the house.”

Kiril just stared at her, confused. “I said that?”

He had.

Vera needed a minute to catch up. Apparently, a few things had changed since she left. Someone hadn’t filled her in about the changes, so here she was, figuring it all out on her own. Interestingly enough, Vaslav had not mentioned the fact that Kiril was spending more time in Dubna again, let alone at the house. Considering the fit he’d thrown over Kiril, she was more than curious about the slice of humble pie Vaslav had needed to swallow to let the kid in again.

Or did his reason come from somewhere else?

The man of the hour was nowhere to ask.

Surprise.

“Did he at least give you a bedroom?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Kiril nodded. “In Mira’s suites. She still babies me a lot.” He scoffed then, and made a face. “Well, all the fuckin’ time, I mean.”

Vera didn’t suppress her smile. “But?”

“I never go hungry.”

Yeah, she bet.

And he also wasn’t alone.

That probably made the rest easier to swallow, but Vera seriously doubted Kiril would appreciate it if she pointed that out. So, she opted not to.

Eyeing the house while Kiril grabbed a handle on each bag of rolling luggage—leaving only a small duffle bag for Vera to carry—her gaze eventually traveled to the front door. A door that remained closed despite her arrival, and a car that had come up the drive and then gone. Something that never happened without Vaslav going to the front door.

Or checking the windows above on the second floor.

Not even the drapes had moved.

The obvious question she could no longer ignore started to slip out of her mouth before she was even ready to ask it. Her heart had a way of doing that to her—controlling her brain.

Vera kind of hated it.

“Where is my husband?”

She should have asked it the second she noticed her blush-white Hummer had been taken from the shed and parked at the far end of the circular drive.

Without its black companion.

Like her, the vehicle was alone.

Kiril cleared his throat, but he didn’t avoid her stare when she looked to him for an actual answer. The question hadn’t been rhetorical, after all.