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I don't own Vampire Academy or any of the recognisable characters in this fic. I only own the plot.

"Liss," I yelled, as I stared forlornly into the fridge, "where're you keeping the Boston cremes?"

"No Boston cremes," Lissa said, appearing at my side. She leaned over me, the scent of her melony perfume hitting me a millisecond before her breasts did. "Only granola. We eat healthy here."

I peered back into the fridge, ignoring the heat her boobs emitted, pressed to my temple.

"It's eight a.m," I stated irritably, eyeing a bottle of chocolate milk on the top shelf. "Much too early to break teeth on nuts and oats-"

"There are cranberries somewhere," Lissa interrupted, her fingers grasping at a pottle of yoghurt the same colour as her lavender nails. "The sweet dried ones. Just check the expiry date- I'm sure they're in the packet you left here when you skipped town."

Her blasé mention of my former life nagged at me the slightest. In the two years I'd hidden in the city, everyone I had left behind and kept in contact with had ignored the obvious elephant in the room- everyone except Lissa.

She was my one constant, having had said every truth she wanted me to hear, no matter how harsh, from the day we had met. My skipping town was not only a sore point of mine, but hers too, and she never ceased to share her thoughts on it- now included. It was the polar opposite of the treatment I was used to from my old friends and family. And it was unsettling, now that I didn't have a phone and five hundred miles between us.

"I don't eat cranberries anymore," I said, taking the bottle of chocolate milk from the shelf. I checked the expiry date and deeming it safe to drink, stumbled back from the fridge, elbowing Lissa in the stomach in the process.

"Ouch," she said, glancing back to glare at me before sticking her head in the fridge once more. "And why not? You loved those things."

"Pregnancy cravings," I mumbled, knowing the two words were explanatory enough. Lissa's drawn-out sigh was my only reply. "So, I didn't hear Christian come home last night."

She pulled an apple from the fridge with a click of her tongue, and kicked the door shut. Waltzing over to the counter I had hauled myself onto, she leaned back against the curve of it's lip.

"He stayed at Dimitri's," she said, her voice much too casual for her words. I glanced down at my milk bottle, avoiding her probing gaze, and fumbled with the yellow lid. "He wanted to be there to turn you away when you went to see Flynn."

I smacked my lips, flicking the bottle top through the kitchen doorway. "Flynn?"

Lissa nodded. "Dimitri's son."

"No one ever told me." I snuck an unsecret bite of Lissa's apple and then balanced it on my knees. "It's nice. Flynn."

"No one thought you wanted to know," Lissa said, grabbing the fruit back. "And no one thought you deserved to."

I chewed on my tongue this time, adamant that any reply I had would only bait her further.

"Do you want to go and see him?" Lissa questioned.

I shook my head, still refusing to speak.

"You do."

I shook my head again.

I wouldn't meet Lissa's scrutinising gaze, unwilling to expose my weakening resolve to stay firmly away from Dimitri and his son.

While I still stuck with the promise I'd made myself upon arriving back in Montana, it was getting increasingly easier to second guess my pledge of keeping out of the littlest Belikov's life, especially now that I knew his name.

Lissa sighed and pushed away from the counter, crossing to the other side of the room to rummage through her purse. When she surfaced, she held a picture in her hand, and with a slow, deliberate breath, shoved it toward me.

"Just look," she said, as I pinched the corner between my fingers. "Look at him, and tell me you don't want to see him."

I glanced down at the glossy white of the card and frowned.

"Please, Rose," Lissa pleaded. Her palm was warm on my elbow, her fingers warm on my forearm. "Just turn it over and look. Please."

Lifting my eyes to meet Lissa's gaze, I shook my head for the last time. I dropped the photo onto the bench and slid off the counter.

"I made my decision, Liss," I said, skipping over to the doorway in a horrifically fake nonchalant manner. "And you need to respect that. Please."