Dare to Hope

by Caitlin Ricci

  “Good, let him know you’re angry for a while.” They shared a smile. “Hey, so, about traveling. Think you could go down to New Zealand for me?”

  Chris stiffened. “Why…?”

  Misha reached into his shirt and pulled out a long beaded silver chain with one of his dog tags dangling from the bottom. Looking back at his neck, Chris could see he still had another chain on, identical to the one he’d just pulled out, which had to be the other copy.

  “I want you to give my dog tag to Trent.”

  Chris could only stare at him as Misha pulled the chain over his head and took his hand, opened it, and dropped the chain into his palm.

  “That’s massive,” Chris said, wondering what the hell his brother was thinking. “You don’t even know him. Not really anyway. You’ve spent, what? Three days with him? Total?”

  Misha laughed and ruffled Chris’s hair. “Like you know Samuel all that much more than I know Trent. Give it to him for me.”

  He didn’t think Misha had any idea what he was doing, but when he sounded as serious as he was right then, Chris knew better than to argue. “Why can’t you do it?”

  He looked a bit sad, or maybe that was just exhaustion on his brother’s face.

  “Because I have to be in Kuwait tomorrow. Do this for me. I want him to have it.”

  “I will.”

  Misha gave him a soft smile and rubbed his back. “Thanks.” He got up from the couch. “Stay here for a while. Lay low and don’t be stupid. I’ll be back in a few hours with the picture.”

  Chris frowned up at him. “You’re going to the office just to get my picture back for me? But I can do that myself. You don’t have to.”

  “You in the same building as Dad sounds like a disaster right now. No, you stay here. Take it easy. Think about what you want to do next after you visit New Zealand for me,” Misha said, heading to the door with Chris following him out. They said good-bye, and Chris went into his kitchen to see if he had any soda left.

  Misha was right. Chris would have probably gone off on his dad again. Or worse, apologized when he felt no real need to. He felt guilty for what he’d said, especially since he’d done it in front of his mom, but he wanted this to be the one time that he didn’t go crawling back to his dad, apologizing and begging for forgiveness for causing a scene and hurting the family.

  His behavior had been far from great, but he wasn’t sorry. He was ashamed of how his father had acted and couldn’t believe he’d come from the two of them. Maybe Samuel had been right. Maybe his family was back in New Zealand and these people were just in his way. While that thought would have been welcome and comforting any other day, while he wasn’t speaking to any of them, it just made him miserable.

  Chapter Fifteen

  FOR SAMUEL, the next few hours were a blur—booking his ticket, packing, and informing his staff of his leaving, how long he would be away, and what he required of them in his absence. The drive to the airport took him just over an hour, and he found himself checked in and standing in queue to board before the lack of sleep and constant worry became tangible.

  As his turn came for the gate attendant to check his ticket, her smile faltered when she focused on his face. “Are you all right, sir?”

  Samuel tried his best to smile back to reassure her. “I’m fine, just extremely tired.”

  She scanned his face, and he was damn sure the crew on board would be notified about the big man who could possibly be hungover, drunk, or drugged. He must look pretty bad.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I hope you get time to rest during your flight.”

  She handed back his ticket and ushered him through. He walked through the loading bridge, and another attendant guided him in the direction of his window seat.

  He sighed in relief when the Airbus started moving twenty minutes later and he saw the middle spot between him and the aisle seat was empty. No elbows to contend with for space or someone falling asleep on his shoulder by accident. A good thing, because other than eating his meals, he intended to sleep the whole way.

  Once airborne, he put the pillow between his head and the wall to sleep. The crew woke him up half an hour before landing to eat his dinner, which he almost inhaled he was so hungry. They stopped over in Bangkok, and he wandered around in the airport for four hours and bought a few silly gifts for his friends. Kaden would have a beer mug with massive boobs, and he couldn’t resist buying two ankle bracelets with fifteen copper bells each for Bran to do his lap dances with. He looked around for the perfect gift for Trent and settled on a container with a big red warning that said “May attract unwanted amorous attention from male elephants. Do not use in zoos, circuses, or the jungle,” and had the title Elephant Love Juice scrawled in flowing script across the front of the bottle.

  He found himself staring at jewelry through a glass cabinet and couldn’t stop thinking he wanted to get Chris something. Their future looked very unsure right now, but even if they never got together, he would still want Chris to have it, because it would suit him.

  There were plenty of studs, lots of nipple jewelry, and even some nose piercings, but he couldn’t imagine any of those looking good on Chris. Oh, he’d look good wearing them; of that Samuel had no doubt. But they wouldn’t be the best for him. He was nearly ready to give up when he spotted a simple silver ring with a ball on it that was a belly piercing. It wasn’t very big, only about the width of his thumb, if that. And it was plain too, maybe too much so for Chris. But even when he looked away to consider the other options before him, Samuel kept coming back to that little circle of silver. Which was crazy, because Chris didn’t even have a piercing there, but Samuel thought maybe getting it would inspire Chris to have it done.

  In the end he picked that ring up and hoped Chris would like it. He didn’t like Misha at the moment so he left his gift for another time when he had time to get over the mess of things first. With his purchases safely stored in his hand luggage, he had a cup of much needed coffee and some noodle dish with a pale meat in it, which he was too scared to ask about, before wandering back toward the boarding gate for his next flight to Dallas.

  He was able to sleep much of that flight as well, which was fortunate, he thought, because it was the longest of his trip. Being back in America and knowing he was so close to seeing Chris again gave him some energy as he sat in the Dallas airport and waited for his next flight, along with dozens of people in cowboy hats and teenagers talking about spring break coming up next month.

  He took out his phone and texted Misha. I’m in Dallas.

  The return text was almost immediate. Send me your flight details. I’ll pick you up at JFK.

  Will Chris be with you? Samuel texted back. He hoped so, since that would be that much sooner that he could see him. His heart started racing at just the thought of spending time with him again. He had a lot to apologize for and hoped Chris would take the time to listen to him.

  Not when I pick you up. You’ll see him after. We need to talk first.

  That sounded ominous, and Samuel disliked when people said that, as it put him on edge. You and I? About what? Samuel asked him.

  How to keep my little brother from killing himself someday.

  Samuel imagined Misha as angry as he’d felt the moment he’d learned that Chris was hurting himself and shook his head, knowing that must have been a scary sight. He and Misha were about the same size, and he guessed they had some of the same martial arts training. What made Misha dangerous, though, was how much he cared about his brother. He was good to have on their side, Samuel knew.

  I hope we can come up with something, Samuel texted back.

  He didn’t receive another text from Misha before he had to turn his phone off on the plane, but he still had a few seconds as the flight attendants did last checks, so he sent off a quick text to Chris, saying, Take care of you. He’d said the same thing to him when Chris had left Montana, and even if he didn’t respond to the text, Samuel hoped Chris at least read it and knew someone car
ed about him.

  JFK airport in New York was a busy nightmare. At least it was to him. There were people everywhere, all of them talking quickly and moving even faster, seeming determined to run him over with their matching luggage. And he only wanted out of it all. He hadn’t been able to sleep on the flight over from Dallas to New York, too excited to be in the same city as Chris again, and that adrenaline kept him going until he found Misha standing in front of a sleek black sports car in the passenger pickup area.

  “Hi,” Samuel said, coming up to him.

  Misha gave him a nod and looked him over in his shorts and T-shirt.

  “You knew we were having winter here, didn’t you?”

  “This was more comfortable. I have warmer clothes to change into if I need to,” Samuel explained. He didn’t feel all that cold standing there, though most of the wind must have been blocked by the building, judging by how wildly the American flags were flying.

  Shrugging, Misha moved away from the car. “Get in. We’re going to the office first.”

  That was a surprise to Samuel. “We are? Why?” he asked as he got into the car and instantly sank into the heated leather seats with a soft sigh. It was a rental. He could see the sticker in the window and was glad Misha seemed to have a taste for upgrades.

  Misha glanced at him sideways before pulling into traffic and getting them away from the airport. “I’m picking up a picture from his desk for him. I thought it would be better for me to go there instead of him, after what happened at lunch.”

  “What happened? Is he okay?” Samuel asked him as Misha drove along the highway. He tried focusing on everything around him, the water, the high buildings, of which New Zealand had none, but the only thing, the only person, he wanted to see was Chris.

  Nodding, Misha changed lanes to get around a particularly slow car. The car’s engine was a smooth purr that only something excessively expensive could have pulled off as Misha raced it down the highway.

  “After how you two were in Montana, I’m surprised he hasn’t said anything to you about it. But now that I know he was hurting himself, I can see why you would all be so angry with him. Not that I believe any of you helped him much from what little he’s told me.”

  He got back into his original lane and then turned off the highway a minute or two later, pulling onto a residential street. “At lunch, though, he quit his job at the firm. Apparently it was a big scene, and our dad thought he was having a breakdown. I have him lying low in his apartment right now, hoping that keeps him out of trouble. He has snacks, movies, and cable, which should keep him entertained until we get there.”

  Samuel snorted a laugh. “If you think that will keep Chris out of trouble, you don’t know your brother very well.”

  Misha laughed as well. “Maybe not. But have you ever seen him in the snow? He detests this stuff. Can’t even be made to go get a good cup of coffee if there’s more than half an inch on the ground. I bet he’s either laid out on his couch watching some ridiculous movie or neck deep in his building’s hot tub.” Misha’s smile dimmed a little. “Thanks for coming out. Now that I know why you were all upset with him, I’m glad you’re here to watch him. I have to leave to go back in a few hours, and I’d hate to do that, knowing what I do now about what he’s going through.”

  Samuel frowned. “When you left Montana, we assumed you would be around to keep a close eye on him, and once you took the jobs, Chris didn’t let us know he was on a downward spiral emotionally with no support. So he left it very late to get in touch and ask for help. I’m scared at this point to leave him alone.”

  Misha paled considerably as he stopped the car in front of a brick office building on a busy, narrow street. “I didn’t know that’s when he started. He only briefly mentioned it to me. I told him not to do it again and that he needed to get into therapy. Then I had some things to do before I came to get you. That’s been my afternoon with him so far, and that’s not okay. I’ll stop after the next few jobs. I have him going to New Zealand soon, so that should help him some. And not having our dad around him will be good for him too, I’m sure. How long are you able to stay? Assuming, of course, that he lets you near him at all.”

  “Why would he be going to New Zealand? I thought he would stay far away from there with the way things ended between us all. And I can only stay a week, sorry. My staff is running the farm without me right now, but I will have to go back to give them a break soon.” Samuel stared out at the snowflakes drifting down to the ground. It all looked so beautiful, but wet and cold too.

  “I have him taking something to Trent for me. You don’t need to know more than that. And a week should be fine. I’ll make sure he’s down there not long after you. It’ll be a nice vacation from the snow and cold for him. Why he never moved somewhere warmer is beyond me. He’s never lived outside of Manhattan.” Misha shook his head and killed the engine. “This shouldn’t take more than a minute or two, I hope. Do you want to stay in the car, or do you want to see where Chris used to work?”

  Samuel dug through his bag by his feet, pulled out a hooded puffer jacket, and put it on before looking at Misha. “Actually, I would love to meet your father.”

  Misha stared at him, then started to chuckle. “No, you really wouldn’t. But let’s go anyway.” He got out of the car and headed over to the sidewalk, stopping there as if waiting for Samuel to join him, which he did.

  Misha led the way, with Samuel following closely behind him, as they entered the building and headed directly for the stairs without stopping at the front desk, where a receptionist sat, eyeing them warily. They went to the second floor. Then Misha’s pace slowed as he paused by each door, reading it, until he came to the one with Chris’s name on it.

  “I haven’t been in this building in over a year. No reason to.” He opened the door, which was surprisingly unlocked, and Samuel followed him in.

  The office itself was neat, with plaques and degrees hung up on three of the walls. On the last wall, a heavy bookshelf sat, filled with law books and encyclopedias.

  “So, this is where Chris has spent most of his life over the past ten years.” Misha went to the only messy place in the office, the large desk in the middle of the room, which was covered with piles of manila folders.

  Samuel took his time and absorbed everything he saw—the awards and qualifications on the walls, the neatness, the order, and the shitload of files on the desk. One thing was clear. The only orderly part of Chris’s life had been in here, because his emotions and personal life had been like a storm. But when Samuel looked over at the corner of the workspace, he saw what mattered most to Chris—his friends and real family. There stood a framed photograph of Chris and Bran, taken during one of their many vacations together, with the ocean behind them and their skins tanned and dusted with sand. Another picture beside it was of Misha in uniform, giving Chris a crooked smile as he waved and prepared to walk off with an army duffle bag in his hand. A newer memory showed Kaden and Bran with their cheeks squished together and pulling tongues at the camera.

  There was one picture, though, that really caught his eye, and it was of himself, taken while in Montana. Somehow Chris had managed to get a picture of him sweaty, dirty, and with his shirt sticking to his chest and stomach, the milking shed in the background. Samuel simply shook his head as he picked up the framed photograph and handed it to Misha as he was collecting the others.

  “It feels a little weird being in here without him. Like I’m prying into his life,” Misha confided.

  “This wasn’t his life. How a person with such a caring heart could’ve survived here for so long is beyond me. I think the only thing he wants in here are these and maybe those,” he said as he pointed at the degrees and plaques.

  Misha grabbed them down too, and his arms were overfilled by the time he was done. Fortunately there was an empty box that computer paper had come in, and he placed the things Samuel thought were most important to Chris in the box with care.

  “Come on, t
hen. You can meet Dad before I take you to see Chris. I’m fairly certain they’ll both be pretty shocked to see you.”

  Carrying the box with both hands, Misha led Samuel back out of the office to the other end of the hall, where he stopped at a closed door. “He’s in there. Door’s closed, which means he might be busy, but if you knock—”

  The door opened, and Misha stepped back so quickly that Samuel had to move out of the way to avoid being run over.

  “Oh. It’s you,” the man Samuel assumed to be their dad said as he looked them both over. “Where’s that useless brother of yours?”

  Samuel couldn’t get over how much like his father Chris looked. They had many features in common, but when Samuel looked into his eyes, he saw how different they really were. This man had a hard, unfeeling, unyielding gaze, and Samuel guessed it was part of being a successful lawyer, but Chris was excellent at his job, and his eyes were warm and filled with mischief. The moment the smaller man’s words sunk in, Samuel felt his hands start to shake, and by the ticking muscle in Misha’s jaw, the big man beside him was fast getting upset too.

  “He’s not here,” Misha bit out.

  “I can see that, you idiot. Get his worthless ass in a car and get him here. It shouldn’t be that hard for you. And you.” Pavel turned his attention to Samuel. “Unless you have an appointment, I’m a very busy man and don’t have time for whatever it is you need right now. One of the many other lawyers that work for me would surely take whatever case you think you have.”

  Misha looked around nervously. “Dad, can we please take this into your office before we cause another Romanoff scene in one day?”

  Pavel sighed, but he did step back to let them both into his office. “Am I to assume that you’re a friend of Misha’s, then? An old Army buddy wanting to see where he comes from? Good lines, I’ll tell you that. Filthy rich good lines.” He shut the door behind them both. “Now, talk.”