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Inhale, exhale.
Every fiber in my body said Kova was here.
Would he be angry with me? Would he resent me and never want to talk to me again after all this was over?
No, he wouldn't. He loved me. He’d told me he did countless times. Love didn't make people feel hate.
My heart was fluttering harder than ever as I slowly opened my eyes…and I stilled.
The first thing I saw was his hand hanging between his spread legs. I blinked to see if it was real. He was moving, pushing his palm toward the floor to signal me. He did it twice, silently telling me to stay. There was a small black duffle bag near his booted feet.
My heart catapulted into my throat. I popped right up and pushed my hood back as my frantic eyes took in his sorrowful ones. My lips parted in disbelief.
Konstantin Kournakova was at the airport.
"Kova," I whispered under my breath. My hands grabbed the armrests. I wanted to jump from my seat and run to him, but I knew better.
"Stay, Ria." He issued the command quietly.
My brows furrowed as I stared at him. I watched him closely, afraid he was going to disappear. His eyes lifted toward something over my shoulder.
My stomach tightened. Kova was eyeing Dad. My fingers tightened around the armrest and I gripped it to steady myself.
There were dark scalloped circles under his guarded eyes as he watched my dad closely.
A vicious ache slashed through my chest. My heart was burning for him.
"Keep your eyes on me," he said. I nodded subtly, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"You're here?" I said quietly.
Tears blurred my vision and my jaw quivered. I didn't want to get caught showing any kind of emotion toward Kova and ruin this, even though I felt like I was breaking inside. That would be like putting us on a platter and handing it to Dad along with a carving knife. I needed to pull myself together.
Anxiousness flickered in my stomach. My nerves were making me edgy again.
I drank him in from head to toe; the demanding need to know what he was thinking and feeling rushed through my blood. He was wearing dark distressed jeans, and I tried to think of a time when I'd seen him in them. All I could remember ever seeing him wear were dress pants or gym shorts. The black military style boots were loosely laced, and the hem of his jeans were haphazardly tucked into them.
My gaze made its way up his body and stopped on his knuckles. They were scraped and bruised, cut with deep red stitching over the creases. It reminded me of when I fell off my bike and skinned my knees. I frowned, wondering if that happened with Dad or while he was in jail.
"Are you okay?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
Enigmatic green eyes bore into mine. There was no half exposing anything in his gaze. He let go and aimed straight at me.
"I am now. And you?"
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
"I'm fine." It was an automatic answer these days, but he knew the real meaning behind the word. "How are you here?" I whispered.
My gaze lowered. His black cable knit sweater looked cozy. I wanted to curl up and burrow myself into him. I needed to feel his arms around me. He seemed so calm and relaxed on the outside, and it made me second-guess what he felt for me on the inside. If he held me, I'd be able to tell.
My eyes traveled back up to his. Kova didn't bother answering me. He didn’t need to. His expression told me everything I needed to know. He held my gaze with a depth that wrapped around my entire being. He was asking me to hang on another second, yet to the outside world he remained aloof.
Then he dropped the shroud, and I knew him.
I felt him.
I saw him.
