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A few seconds later, her door opens again. “Hurry!”
I walk over to the car and climb in on the opposite side. There’s a flurry of Russian between Vera and the driver, and then we set off, back down the long, winding driveway. Every time I glance at Vera, she’s studying me through narrowed eyes, so I mostly keep my gaze outside the car.
“Where are we going?” I eventually ask.
She’s Nick’s mother, and these are Nick’s men. I’m not concerned about my safety, but I’m definitely apprehensive about what’s to come.
“Women’s shelter.”
“Really?”
Nick hasn’t mentioned his offer to set up a volunteer arrangement since that night in his office, and so I haven’t brought it up either. I’m elated to realize he didn’t forget even if I’m uncertain about it involving Vera.
Vera’s harsh expression softens slightly as she registers the excitement in my voice. She studies me without the irritated scowl, which is somehow more unsettling.
“Maybe just dumb,” she decides.
It’s far from praise or approval. But it’s a little from someone who seems accustomed to giving nothing, which somehow seems like a lot.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
LYLA
“What are you doing?”
I startle and glance up from the tangled mess of yarn. Nick is leaning against the opening between the hall and my bedroom, an amused smile playing across his lips. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, but otherwise, he looks the same as before he left.
I inhale, sharp and surprised. “You’re back.”
He nods. “I’m back.”
We stare at each other for what is really seconds but feels much longer.
“Your mom is here.”
“I know. She’s downstairs, teaching Leo how to play chess.”
“We went to a women’s shelter today.”
Something in Nick’s expression tells me he already knew that. Confirms he had a hand in it. “How was it?”
“It was good. Sad but good. I helped peel potatoes and iron. A few of the women have job interviews tomorrow. One of them hasn’t seen her kids in a year. They’ve been staying with her sister.”
“Are you going back?”
I nod. “Next week. As long as that’s okay?”
“You don’t need my permission, Lyla.”
“I know.” I play with the yarn, avoiding his gaze.
“What is all the string for?”
“Leo needs a new hat.”
“So, buy him one.”
“I’m knitting him one.”
