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“Is everything alright?” he asks, moving toward the bed.

Mama turns toward him with tears still shining in her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Alexei freezes.

Before he can retreat, Mama crosses the room and wraps him in a hug.

He goes completely still, arms held slightly away from his sides as if he’s been confronted with a weapon he doesn’t know how to disarm. I press my lips together because watching six-foot-two Alexei Agapov endure an emotional Southern mother hug might be one of the greatest moments of my life.

Mama finally releases him and pats his chest like he’s a nervous church boy instead of a man who ran into a burning building yesterday. “I’m sorry,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “I’m just happy.”

Alexei looks mildly alarmed until his eyes find mine.

I smile through lingering tears. “I told her.”

Understanding appears on his face, followed by something deeper that makes my heart ache. Mama reaches for his hand, and to his credit, he lets her take it.

“Thank you,” Mama says, squeezing his fingers.

Alexei looks genuinely confused. “For what?”

“For bringin’ my baby home,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.

Alexei glances toward me before looking back at Mama. His posture remains composed, but his thumb brushes once over Mama’s knuckles before he releases her hand. “There was nowhere else she was going.”

My heart stumbles.

Mama smiles knowingly. “Oh, I know.”

Alexei clears his throat, clearly deciding he has had enough feelings for one morning. “Roman stopped by earlier.”

The change of subject is so transparently Alexei that I almost laugh, and Mama notices too because her mouth twitches before she wisely says nothing. Instead, she looks between the two of us before stepping away from Alexei and walking back to my bedside.

“Well,” she says, taking my hand in hers, “That's my cue to head out and let y’all talk.”

“Mama, you don't have to go.”

“Baby, I'll be back later to check on you.” She leans down and kisses my forehead. “Right now, I think the two of you need some time alone.”

I squeeze her hand. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” She brushes her fingers through my hair one more time before straightening. “Get some rest, and don't you go worryin’ about a thing.”

Then she smiles at Alexei. “You take care of my girl and my grandbaby.”

“Always,” Alexei assures her.

Satisfied with that answer, Mama nods once and heads for the door.

Alexei moves closer to the bed, resting one hand on the carved wooden footboard. “The fire department completed their preliminary investigation this morning.”

The knot returns before I can stop it. “And?”

“Preliminary findings suggest the fire originated in the laundry room due to an electrical malfunction,” he says carefully.

Relief rushes through me, powerful and almost dizzying, followed so fast by guilt that I have to look down at my hands. For weeks, I’ve lived waiting for the next terrible thing to happen. Somewhere along the way, fear changed me enough that part of me truly believed someone might have deliberately set that fire.

“Thank goodness,” I whisper, rubbing my thumb over the blanket.