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Peter
Ignoring the nagging pain in my side, I carry Sara back to our house. She’s capable of walking—I know, because she told me so in a shaking voice—but I don’t give a f**k about that. She’s so pale and fragile-looking that I have to hold her, have to feel her slender body pressed against me, so that I know she’s physically uninjured.
So that I can pretend she and the baby are all right.
My blood froze at Kent’s appearance, and I’m still not recovered fully. It doesn’t help that when I sprinted over, my ptichka was even more pale than she is now… even more breakable.
“Here we are,” I say soothingly as we approach the house. “We’ll get you into a shower right away, okay?” Her clothes are covered with dirt and grass stains, as are her palms, her knees, and half her face.
She doesn
