He sets me on my feet and quickly turns to Willow. She’s trembling, sobbing, and cowering behind the toppled end table.Shards of ceramic float among the spilled water and broken flower stems, staining the expensive wood floor.
Oh, God. No. No, no, no, no, no.
I’m ready to launch myself in front of Willow to take his anger, but before I can, Demyen steps over the broken vase andcrouches in front of her.
“Are you okay?” he gently asks.
Willow doesn’t want to look at him. She’s so scared. But he sees that, and ever-so-lightly tucks a finger under her chin to makeher meet his gaze.
Demyen offers her a warm smile. “Hey, malysh, it’s okay. Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head. And hiccups.
“That’s good. You know you can tell me if you’re hurt, righ
