Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Abigail
day before valentine's day
Icrack an egg against the rim of the mixing bowl and watch the yolk slide into the sugar and butter.
A little shell follows.
“Dammit.”
I fish the piece out with my finger before wiping my hand on a dish towel and reaching for the next egg. The sound of Lucy barking has me looking out the kitchen window, laughing as I watch her run through a puddle in the driveway.
It’s still winter outside. Still Montana. But the light is changing now. It stretches a little longer through the kitchen windows. Warmer. Brighter. Like the sun itself is teasing us with the idea of spring.
I finished morning chores an hour ago, and when the guys told me they still had quite a bit to do, I took that as my chance to sneak away for some much-needed me time.
It’s not often I get a moment all to myself—on account of living with four men and everything—so I’m soaking up the afternoon sun with just me, myself, and I.
Steam still clinging to my skin from the shower, hair damp down my back as I move around the kitchen barefoot.
The furnace hums low, and the kitchen is a little warmer from the preheating oven as I continue mixing the double-chocolate brownies for tomorrow’s dessert.
Valentine’s Day.
Pausing the mixer, I scrape down the sides of the bowl, hips swaying absentmindedly to Lainey Wilson’s “Watermelon Moonshine” playing from my phone on the counter.
I really need to ask Lawson how to work these damn speakers.
Reaching for my coffee, I take a sip and pause.
It tastes… wrong.
Wrinkling my nose, I set the mug down and look back and forth between it and the coffee maker.
Did I burn it?
“Who am I? Lincoln? Can’t even make a pot of coffee all of a sudden,” I mumble to myself.
I make a mental note to make a new pot when I’m done baking before turning up the volume, letting music fill the kitchen.
The sun hits the hardwood just right, and I spin once in the middle of the floor, laughing at myself. Flour dusts the front of my shirt, and a strand of damp hair sticks to my cheek.
But I can’t find it in me to care.
This moment feels like mine.
This house. This life.
Them.
I’m sliding the pan into the oven when my music cuts out, and my phone starts buzzing against the counter.
Unknown number.
My stomach drops, and for a second, I just stare at it. Nobody besides the guys or Josephine ever calls me, and I have Dante, Luca, Enzo, and Sebastian’s numbers programmed into my phone just in case.
I wipe my hands on a towel and answer. “Hello?”
Silence.
Then—“Anya?”
My fingers grip the edge of the counter. “Kat?”
Her name feels fragile in my mouth.
She exhales like she’s been holding that breath since the last time I saw her. “It’s me.”
I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing until my chest starts to ache. “Are you—” My voice cracks. “Are you okay?”
“I ran,” she says calmly. “I ran deeper into the woods that night. I hid until they stopped looking for me.”
That night.
The snow. The headlights. The silence that followed as the cold water took over my body.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“I got out,” she replies plainly. “I’m somewhere where none of them can ever find me.”
Where he can’t find her.
I close my eyes. “You’re safe?” I press, not bothering to ask where she is. If she wanted to tell me, she would.
“I’m safe.” I can hear it in her voice. Not fear. Not panic.
Resolve.
Something in my chest loosens, even as something new takes hold.
“You could’ve told me,” I whisper.
“I couldn’t risk it.”
I don’t say anything because… well… I’m not really sure what to say.
She lets out a heavy sigh. “All I’ve ever done was try to protect you, Anya. I just wanted you safe.”
“I know.”
And I do… that’s the worst part.
She didn’t do what she did because she wanted to.
She did it because she thought what she was doing was right.
There’s part of me that’s—that’s still so mad at her, and I don’t know if that ever fully goes away. But anger and understanding can live in the same body.
“I’m not coming back,” she says gently. “Not for a long time at least.”
“And I’m assuming you won’t tell me where you are?”
“I can’t.”
My throat burns even though I knew that’d be the answer.
“Do you have money?”
“Yes.”
“Food?”
“Yes.”
Outside, snow slips from the edge of the roof, landing on the ground with a dull thud.
“Do you need help?” she asks suddenly.
I let out a shaky breath and lean back against the counter, staring out at the pasture where the snow is thinning in uneven patches. “No. We’re okay.”
There’s movement in the distance—one of the guys crossing toward the barn, shoulders broad against the blue sky.
“Just run,” I tell her. “Get out and stay out. Build something that’s all yours.”
Just like I’m trying to do.
“Find peace, Katerina.”
“I never meant to leave you alone. You deserved better than the mess everyone made for you.” Her words are soft and true, so much like the sister I remember.
When I don’t say anything, she says, “I have a plan.” I can practically hear the small smile on her face.
“I would expect nothing less.” I press my lips together, fighting the sting behind my eyes, because I know deep in my bones that this might be the last time I talk to my sister for a long, long time. But at least this time, I have the chance to say goodbye. “Ya lyublyu tebya, Katerina.”
“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, Anya.”
And just like that, the line goes quiet.
I lower the phone slowly. The music resumes in the background, and the song has changed to something from Chris Stapleton—the tune feels bold and defiant. It’s oddly fitting.
I turn the volume down and look around me.
I can’t explain it, but the house feels bigger now. Quieter.
My sister is alive.
She’s safe.
But she’s gone.
Some goodbyes don’t feel like explosions. Some feel like the melting snow—slow and quiet and gentle.
And as much as I hate it, maybe that’s where our story ends.
For now, at least.
Outside, the sun climbs higher, bright against the Montana sky. The snow keeps melting from the tin roof in slow, steady drips.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Everything is changing.
Everything.
I reach for my coffee again, out of habit, take another sip, and grimace.
Bleh.
I dump it in the sink and start fresh, determined to keep finding peace of my own.