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“How did you learn all this stuff?” Lyra asked, mesmerized by the rainbow of colors in her hand.
“My mamá used to collect sea glass. I still have a jar full of the colors she found.”
“That’s so cool! Isn’t it, Uncle Andre?”
Mia tensed at his name. She glanced at him over her shoulder. His expression was one she hadn’t seen on his face before—one of softness and possibly remorse. Could she never escape this man?
“Lyra, your mamá wants you to go eat. Lunch is ready,” Andre said.
“Okay,” Lyra said before she ran off.
“Mia—”
She held up her hand. “Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to hear it. Leave me alone, Andre. You won, okay? I’ll keep to myself.” She walked away before he could respond. Before he could see her tears.
