What's Left Of Me (The Firebird Trilogy Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

electronica. She has gained recognition throughout Europe and on MTV as well as within the club dance scene.
     
    Blond, of course. Vamp-red lipstick and false eyelashes. The typical tired, boundary-pushing outfits that had become cliché for young pop stars long before Lady Gaga and Katy Perry.
     
    Early life
    Nataliya Pisarenkova was born on 8 July in Saint Petersburg, Russian Federation, where she grew up. At age 14, she began taking singing lessons from Yulia Volynskaya, mother of NHL hockey star Aleksandr Volynsky, to whom Pisarenkova was later romantically linked.
     
    Sure, Wikipedia wasn’t exactly a bastion of reputable information, and she could trust virtually nothing written about Alex, especially now. He had no reason to lie.
    “Learn anything interesting?” Alex peered over her shoulder.
    “Yeah. Says you two were ‘romantically linked’. Contrary to what you told me.” She swiveled toward him and tried to steady the coarse breaths steaming from her nose. “So tell me the truth.”
    “I did.” He scrubbed his stubbly chin, his brow furrowed. “I haven’t seen her in almost ten years, Steph.”
    “Not even when you went home for visits?”
    “She was usually touring Europe. Summer festivals, that kind of thing. We kept in touch, but only through social media and the occasional phone call.” Alex snatched the mouse and clicked off the browser. “We’re married. We have a daughter. Where do you think I’m going?”
    She shook her head. She had no answer for him.
    “Baby.” Alex knelt before her and grasped her hands. “He’s been dead a year. There’s no place for him anymore. Everything he ever told you was a lie, and you proved it. We proved it.”
    “I know,” she whispered. “I don’t know why it’s so hard. He was sick too. A different kind, but he couldn’t help it any more than you can. Maybe he would’ve…”
    “Changed? Maybe. But you’ll never know, and wondering is going to drive you crazy. So forgive him if you have to. And let him go.”
    “I don’t know if it’s that easy.”
    “Well, think of it this way: you’re making a choice not to, and you’re obviously not happy with it. He made one too—not to get better, and it cost him everything. His daughter, his granddaughter, and his life. That leaves you with all the power, because you can still make a different choice, but you’re letting him take it from you. Don’t forgive him for his sake. Do it for you.”
    She paged through the files of her memory, snatching at one happy image, one sound she could hold on to, an amulet to summon the empathy required to absolve him. Freedom for them both. He hadn’t been drunk on her sixteenth birthday, when he’d covered her eyes with his hands and steered her outside to the driveway, to her red Honda Civic. New or used, it didn’t matter. She owned a car and, for those few moments, did not think of it as a means of escape from him. Because when she looked at her father through joyful tears, what she saw in his eyes was something even her deep-seated cynicism could not brand as anything but love.
    But the car was long gone, and so was he.
    “Deep thoughts again?” Alex nuzzled her cheek. “Tell me what’s on your mind, baby.”
    She smiled and tousled his hair. “You’re right. That’s all.”
    “I love you so much. Everything we’ve gone through, I’d do it again to be with you. You are worth that and more.” He kissed her wrists. “You are the love of my life.” Kissed each finger. “My best friend. The mother of my child.”
    “I’m sorry I’ve been touchy. I’m exhausted.” She wiped at her gritty eyes. The world had gone gray around the edges, her thoughts fuzzy and incoherent. Alex was no better off, with his bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothes in which he tumbled into bed for brief naps throughout the day. His snoring had gotten louder since Anya’s birth.
    “Lie down for a while. I can take care of Anya. And don’t worry about anything