“It’s you,” Pasha says and brushes my cheek with the back of his other hand. “The bird?” “Yes.” I look up from the tattoo and find his eyes watching me. “There’s only one bird,” I say. “Where are you?” “I’m not there. Just you.” “Why?” He dips his head to whisper in my ear. “Because there was nothing left of me after you flew away, mishka.”
