PAVEL'S POV
"Ready?" I ask.
Asya stands in the middle of the bedroom, arms wrapped around her midsection. "No."
"We need to get you some clothes. Nothing I bought fits." I nod toward the oversized shirt and the jeans rolled up at the cuffs. How did I mess this up so badly? At the store, the clothes seemed small. She might only be here a short time, but I won't let her tug at sleeves or trip over too-long pants. She should feel comfortable.
"The store is close by, and we'll be the only ones there."
She looks down, biting her lower lip.
"Asya. Look at me, baby." Her eyes lift reluctantly. "I won't let go of your hand, no matter what. You will be safe."
"You said 'safe,'" she mumbles. "Not 'it's going to be okay.' Why?"
"Because it might not be okay," I admit. "You might get scared—it's your first time out in public after almost three weeks. You might even freak out. But you will be safe the whole time. Do you understand what I'm saying, Mishka?"
