Page 45 of Wyatt

“In my dreams, I live on the ranch with Mikka and Wyatt.” She couldn’t believe she voiced that. “But that will never happen.”

“It sounds like a lovely dream,” Lana said quietly.

The merry-go-round slowed, and Mikka sat up, turned, and slid off.

“Careful!” Coco shouted, but Mikka landed hard on his backside.

She went to run to him, but Lana held her arm. “Wait.”

Sure enough, Mikka climbed to his feet and scampered off to the swings.

“He is a tough boy,” Lana said.

He’d have to be.

“Where will you really go?” The question was innocent, she was certain, but any real answer could put Mikka in danger.

“I don’t know. Off the grid for sure.”

“And Mikka?”

“In a couple years he’ll go to live in boarding school. Maybe under a new name.”

Which meant she may never find him.

He climbed aboard a swing.

“You are strong too,maya lapichka.”

She didn’t know why, but the words stirred up the past, and even as she looked at Lana, she saw her mother lying in a hospital bed, holding her hand.

You will survive this, maya lapichka. You will bloom and grow into an amazing woman. Someday, even a mother. But in all things, remember. You are strong. And you are not alone.

Yes, actually, she was. Very alone. She gritted her jaw against the ache in her chest rising to consume her.

“Smotree!”

She looked over just in time to see Mikka jump off the swing into the air.

“Mikka!” Now it was Lana’s voice that joined with her own as Mikka landed in the dirt, falling onto his hands and knees.

Coco beat the woman to him, picking him up. His lip trembled, his eyes sheening.

“You’re okay,” Coco said and pulled him to herself. “You’re okay.”

“He’s bleeding,” Lana said, and Coco pulled him away. Sure enough, from his nose trickled a line of blood.

She set him down and pinched his nose while Lana ran to the house for a towel. “Does it hurt?”

He shook his head.

She picked him up and carried him to the house, meeting Lana at the door. Pressing the towel to his nose, she brought him inside to the kitchen. She set him on the small, long kiddie table and crouched in front of him.

Blood had spilled onto his shirt.

Tears filled his eyes. “Mnye zhalka.”

“It’s okay, baby,” Coco said. “It was an accident.” She checked his nose. The bleeding seemed to have stopped.