Dev called Katya on the comm panel as soon as he was able. “How are you?”
“Fine.” Her lips curved. “Connor brought me a smoothie—he said you threatened to cut his legs off at the knees if he forgot.”
“Damn straight.” Heart a forever ache in his chest, he simply looked at her for a long moment. “I should be home around eight tonight.”
“How did the meeting go?”
He’d stopped hiding things from her the instant he’d understood the truth, understood how little time he had to share his world with this extraordinary, beautiful woman. “There are going to be no easy answers for the Forgotten. We’ll have to ride the tides and see where they take us.”
“That’s freedom, Dev,” Katya whispered. “Don’t ever give it up.”
CHAPTER 52
Katya had thought hard all night about what she was about to do, knowing that at this moment, she could ask anything of Dev and he’d give it to her. She didn’t want to take advantage of that, and yet, at the same time, she knew she’d never again have the chance to do this.
Crossing over to him, her lower legs encased in computronic black carapaces that gave her the strength to move, she put her hand on his shoulder.
He looked up from his contemplation of the snow-draped woods. “Sit on the steps with me.”
“I want to ask you something.”
“Anything.”
“I’d like to meet your father.”
His shoulder turned to rock under her hand. “Why?”
“There are so many things I want to do with you,” she whispered, “things I know I’m never going to get the chance to do, but maybe, there is one thing I can do.”
“I’m not going to forgive him now if I haven’t all these years.” He stared straight ahead.
“I know.” She slid down to sit beside him. “But maybe you can see him through new eyes.”
“It’ll be a waste of time.”
“Please, Dev, do it for me.”
“Below the belt, baby,” he whispered, wrapping one strong arm around her shoulders. “Damn unfair.”
Her eyes burned at the pain she could feel in the big body beside hers. “A woman’s got to use what she has with you.”
The faintest hint of a smile. But it was layered in a heavy wave of darkness, of loss. “Alright. I’ll take you to him.”
Four hours from the time she’d asked him, they walked into the large, sunny visiting room of the place Dev’s father called home. It was, as Dev had said, a lovely place. Cane chairs with soft white cushions lay in easy conversational groupings, while indoor plants soaked up the sunshine coming in through windows that looked out over the sprawling gardens. The plants outside lay in winter sleep, but even so it was a peaceful vista.
But the gardens apparently held no appeal for the lone man who sat by the windows. His attention was locked on the doorway.
Katya’s heart stopped as she met those eyes. “Dev, you look so much alike.” Except for the color of his skin, Massey Petrokov was the mold from which Dev had been cast.
“Yeah.” Dev’s hand clenched around her waist.
She waited for something more, but he went silent. Massey watched them approach with the same silence. But when she reached him, what she saw in his eyes made her own burn—the abject apology as he looked at his son, the complete lack of hope . . . it broke her heart. “Hello, Mr. Petrokov,” she said, taking a seat opposite him.
The older man—his face aged far beyond his years—finally looked away from Dev. “You belong to my son.”
“Yes.”
“He’ll take care of you,” Massey said, his gaze following Dev as his son walked to stand facing the windows on Katya’s left. “He won’t hurt you.”
“I know.” She waited until the man turned back to her. “Will you tell me about her?”
“Her?”
“Dev’s mother.”
Dev’s entire body froze, but he didn’t say a word.
Massey swallowed. “I don’t have the right to say her name.”
“Please.”
After a long, long moment, Massey began speaking, his eyes locked on his son’s back. “We were teenagers when we met. She was the bright, funny girl. I was the jock. But we always found something to say to each other. She made me feel smart.” A smile as he fell into memory. “She used to say I made her feel strong.”
At that moment, there was nothing insane or broken about Massey Petrokov. He was a young man, his whole life ahead of him.
“I asked her to marry me after I finished college—on a football scholarship. I knew even then that she was going places, but that was okay with me.” A small laugh. “I used to say I’d be the househusband while she took over the world.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.” Another smile. “I played for four years, then got injured. But I made good money those few years, and my Sarita was already on the fast track at her investment firm, so we were okay financially. We decided to try for a child. She got pregnant almost immediately.”