Geneva blinks at me, reality forcing its way through the web of denial she’s currently trapped in. “I… that’s not… I—”

I feel Kolya step up to my side. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, June. You need to get inside and out of those wet clothes.”

“I thought we were making progress,” I say, without taking my eyes off my sister. “I thought that finally, after more than two decades, we could learn to be sisters to each other. We’ve never really been there for each other. We’ve lived such separate lives. And now… well, now, I can’t help thinking that we were better off for it.”

Geneva’s eyes spike with tears. Then her jaw tightens and she turns and heads down the sloping hill towards her beat-up old Camry.

She opens the driver’s side door, but stops just before she gets in. “I’ll tell Mom and Dad that you’re alive. They were worried.”

Then she slams the door closed. I stay fixed in place, watching her until her taillights disappear around the bend.

14

JUNE

“Thank you,” Kolya says softly when we’re alone again. “For the story you gave the police.”

I shake off Kolya’s hand. “I didn’t do it for you. I just… I didn’t want the drama. I just want some peace and quiet.”

Then I turn and march up to the front door of the mansion. He doesn’t say anything as he follows me inside. A few of the staff appear, looking puffy-eyed and curious, but Kolya waves them away.

“I’ll handle it,” he tells them. “Go back to bed.”

He steers me in the direction of the medical wing. I let him, mostly because my arm is aching worse than ever. Every single pulse sends a fresh wave of agony surging through the wound.

Dr. Sara is waiting for us in the medical room when we walk in. “June!” she gasps, as though she’s been holding her breath for a week straight. “Thank God. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say stiffly. “Just a little wet.”

But Sara’s eyes are fixed on my arm. “Who bandaged that?”

“Uh… I did,” I lie, trying not to look at Kolya, who’s lingering in the corner.

“So you haven’t seen a doctor?”

“No.”

Sara nods crisply. “Remove your clothes and put this on,” she says, pulling out a plain blue wrap. “You need a head-to-toe exam.”

I head into the adjoining bathroom and slowly, gingerly strip off my soaking wet clothes. I keep waiting for Kolya to come in and do it for me—which would be very much his style—but the door remains closed.

Once I’m changed, I step back into the exam room. “Good,” Sara says in her professional voice. “Let’s check on the baby first, shall we?”

I clamber up on the examination table and Sara proceeds to give me a quick check-up. The whole time, Kolya stays lurking in the corner like a gargoyle. Arms folded over his chest. Watching, but not speaking.