14
Sara
I don’t know how long I cry before the bed next to me dips and Peter gathers me into his arms, placing me on his lap as though I’m a distraught child. His big hand strokes my back as I wrap my arms around his neck, hiding my wet face against his shoulder, and it feels good, his touch, his warmth. It feels necessary, even though I hate him right now… even though the pain in my mom’s voice is unbearably fresh in my mind.
“They’ll be all right, ptichka,” he says softly when my sobs quiet down. “We’re keeping an eye on them, and they’re handling everything well. And now that you called, they know you’re fine too.”
“Fine? They think I’ve gone crazy, disappearing with a wanted criminal like that.” My voice shakes, my vision blurry with tears as I push at his shoulders, lifting my hea
