immigrants within Zoey’s network. They’ll have new homes, new lives. But Stacia and the others help them acclimate to their new life first so they’re ready.”
Emotion clogged his throat. He’d had no idea how extensive and in-depth the hummingbird’s network was. The work she did…
“I want to help,” he said. “I know I don’t deserve the chance, but I want to help. Their cause. Hummingbird’s network.”
“You really should stop calling Zoey that,” Addy said, amusement lilting within her words. “And don’t ever say you don’t deserve the chance. You did everything you could to help Stacia and many others like her. You took a lot of risks to keep them safe.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“No, but it was more than they would’ve had without you.” Addy gripped his hand tighter. “Zoey wants to add an International arm of the network, one that’d help before they hit the States.”
That was brilliant. “I have contacts, resources. Gavriil does as well. He’ll want to help as well.”
“Then we’ll sit down and brainstorm plans,” Addy said. “After we have Stacia and Olaf reunited.”
“And if she doesn’t want to see him? He may be nothing more than a painful reminder of what she suffered and lost.” He ran his hands through Addy’s hair. “She deserves happiness, but I fear losing her would destroy what little remains of Olaf.”
“We’ll get them both through this. They aren’t alone.”
And neither was he.
Love swarmed within him. The admission poised on his tongue, but he held it back. Today wasn’t about him and what he felt for Addy.
Motion in his peripheral vision dragged his attention back to the house. Addy stepped back as Zoey descended the stairs. A young blonde woman walked beside her. Two more bracketed them, their gazes narrowed with suspicion.
Stacia.
Her long, blonde hair framed her angelic face. Tears shimmered in her blue gaze as she quickened her steps toward him. One of the women grabbed her arm, but Stacia jerked back from the contact and ran.
He shifted backward two steps from the impact. Arms wrapped around her, he took a deep breath and battled his own tears as she cried softly into his shoulder. No words came even though they rolled through his mind.
It’d been too many years since they’d seen one another, too many hardships and pains. How could he undo the damage his father had done?
“Brother of my heart,” she whispered in Russian.
Tears escaped his eyes. “Sister of my soul.”
She remembered. They’d always teased one another that they’d been born into the wrong families. Her marriage to Olaf would’ve bonded them, but they’d already been the family neither one of them had. Stacia, Gavriil, Olaf, and Kristof. The four lost souls.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I will carry the shame of what he did for eternity.”
“No. It wasn’t your fault.” She pulled away. “Olaf and I were foolish, too young and naive to listen to the warnings you gave.”
Her gaze swept the area, settling on the vehicle. She wrung her hands and glanced over at Zoey when she approached.
As if sensing the question she hadn’t asked, Addy smiled and put a hand on Stacia’s shoulder. “He’s not here. We wanted to meet with you first.”
Her eyes widened, shimmering with tears. She nodded and looked down.
“Come. You may sit outside,” one of the other women said. She guided them through the gate and around the side of the house. More toys were strewn about the well-maintained yard. A small pool sat near the back porch.
A small table with four chairs was near the center of the area. Empty glasses sat in front of each space and a large pitcher was in the middle. Kristof’s gaze swept the back of the house. Curtains shifted and tiny faces appeared, pressed against the windows.
Amusement rolled through him as he winked at the little kids. Their expressive eyes widened as they looked at one another, then returned their rapt attention to him as he sat in one of the chairs.
Stacia’s two friends didn’t offer their names, nor did they remain near the table. They moved a few feet away as Addy, Stacia, and Zoey sat. The latter set her backpack on the ground beside her.
Stacia’s hands trembled as she lifted the pitcher and poured what Kristof assumed was iced tea into the glasses. She offered a faint smile. “I couldn’t decide between tea or lemonade, but Yasmin reminded me tea is more popular. It’s not as good as the tea from…”
Home. Did she still think of Russia as home?
“It’ll taste great,” Kristof said