“Exactly.” He jabbed a finger in Miguel’s direction. “Lose it, Acosta.”
Miguel muttered under his breath in Spanish and retreated to his office.
“I see not much has changed around here,” an amused voice remarked over Maksim’s shoulder.
A man stood behind him on the sidewalk, decked out in faded blue jeans and motorcycle boots. A black leather jacket was zipped to his chin to protect against the rain, and he gripped a helmet under one arm. Contrary to the full biker regalia, he was clean-shaven and his brown hair was cropped short and neatly styled.
“Chris?” Alex sounded shocked. He shoved past Maksim and out into the downpour, snatching up the other man in a bone-crushing hug. “Chris! You’re here!”
The man was built like a tank, bigger and broader than Alex’s athletic frame, but he suffered through the indignity of being manhandled into their little ramshackle office.
Maksim gracefully kicked the door shut behind them before the rattletrap wall heater kicked on and drowned out the conversation.
“A phone call would’ve worked, you asshole,” Alex laughed. “But it’s damn good to see you.”
“I needed to get some Christmas shopping done for Mom and the girls, anyway,” he muttered, unzipping his studded motorcycle jacket to reveal a staid cotton button-up.
Maksim smiled bemusedly. The man’s appearance was a walking contradiction.
Alex made a sweeping gesture around the room. “This is my staff. Staff, this is Chris Casey. He’s the warden out at the Snake River Correctional Facility in Baker County.”
Elliot had made an appearance from the back office. He leaned against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, regarding the new arrival with a slight frown.
Maksim recalled that Elliot’s lover, Lucas Kelly, had spent a few years at Snake River in his early twenties. He wondered if he’d regaled Elliot with any stories of his old warden.
“You’re a long way from home, sailor,” Stella remarked, propping her chin on her fist and examining him with interest.
Casey’s smile was polite but uninterested. “Alex was my roommate in college,” he explained. “I stop by whenever I’m in town.”
“I know what that’s code for,” Stella said with a good-natured roll of her eyes.
“Stella.” Alex’s voice was sharp.
“What?” she asked innocently, but her face flushed when she caught Casey’s reaction.
His expression was frozen, and his jaw was hard. A muscle ticked in his cheek, as if he were clenching his teeth behind a tightly closed mouth.
“Sorry,” Stella mumbled, tackling her report with renewed zeal.
“Come on, Chris,” Alex nudged him toward his office. “I need to talk to you about this appeal.”
As they headed down the hall, Miguel popped out of his office like the world’s worst jack-in-the-box and planted a smacking kiss on Alex’s cheek.
“For Christ’s sake, Acosta!”
“No one expects stealth mistletoe.” Miguel regarded Alex’s guest for a long moment before deciding to forego kissing him. He tossed them both a wink and then ducked back into his office.
Maksim followed, leaning against the doorjamb and watching curiously as Miguel stuffed the mistletoe in a desk drawer. “You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?” he asked idly.
“Nah,” Miguel’s grin was blinding. “Things have been too damn grim around here lately. It’s not like I’m looking forward to planting one on Smith, but it’s a sacrifice I’ll make for the good of the team. Everyone could use a laugh.”
“Just keep it away from me.”
Miguel held up his hands innocently. “Your boy would skin me like a rabbit if I tried anything.”
He took the empty seat across from Miguel and kicked his feet up on the edge of the crowded desk.
Miguel raised a brow.
Maksim ignored him. “What has everyone so on edge around here?”
Miguel shrugged. “The holidays get folks down, I guess. Stella just broke up with her boyfriend. Elliot’s driving himself insane trying to top the gift he gave Lucas last year. Alex is sweating blood over that kid’s appeals case.”
“How’s it going?”
“Doesn’t look good,” he said flatly. “There are worse places to be incarcerated than Snake River, for sure, but that’s cold fucking comfort when you’re innocent.”
Maksim regarded his friend thoughtfully. “How are you?”
“I’m gold, man.” Miguel shrugged. “So what’s got you slumming down here today? I thought you weren’t taking any more cases until the new year?”
“I’m not.” Maksim sighed. He scrubbed a hand thoughtfully across his mouth, wondering if he was doing the right thing. But Val was just so prickly about his every attempt to broach the topic. He considered any helping hand a reminder of his own weakness. “I wanted to ask you about that place you’ve been volunteering.”
Miguel looked startled. “Beat the Streets?”
“No.” Maksim cleared his throat. “The other one. That place you’ve been taking the rehab kids?”
“Ah.” Miguel drew that one syllable out like everything had suddenly become clear. “You mean Pets 4 Vets.”
“Do they help?”
Miguel cracked his neck and leaned back in his chair, stacking his hands behind his head. He had a way of taking over every space he occupied, looking perfectly at home, no matter where he was.
He examined Maksim thoughtfully before replying, “They seem to help. It depends on the level of trauma. But therapy animals exist for a reason. Sometimes just having a warm, living body beside you when things fall apart can make all the difference.”
Maksim nodded. He’d rather it be him there for Val to hold onto when his world shook apart, but it wasn’t possible. He could take some vacation time, but eventually he’d need to go back to work. If he attempted to cut back his hours, Val would resent the hell out of him, and that wasn’t a healthy model for a relationship.
But that didn’t mean Maksim was willing to give up finding a way to support his lover… even when he couldn’t physically be there.
“How’s Val doing?” Miguel asked casually.
“He’s had… setbacks.” It was all Maksim would grudgingly admit. “When his only options are voicemails to the VA or interrupting me at work, he’d rather just grin and bear it. Hell, I don’t even know if something like this would actually help him, or if it’s just to make myself feel better. I hate the thought of him going through this shit alone.”
“Hmm. Well, the addition of something fluffy ain’t gonna hurt nothing. Especially since you’ve got all that space up there in your crazy mountain fortress.” Miguel pulled out a pen and scribbled something down on a post-it note. “This is the number for Amelia. She’s the trainer I’ve been working with. She’ll hook you up.”
Maksim accepted the note. He stared down at it for a minute, rubbing his thumb over the ink marking the yellow paper.
“I hate feeling like this,” he admitted.
“Like what?” Miguel cocked his head. “Helpless?”
He gritted his teeth.
Miguel chuckled. “Just like the rest of us mortals. Don’t worry, Mr. Roboto, you haven’t lost your edge. You just need to come to grips with the fact that you can’t fix everything for the important people in your life.”
“I know that,” Maksim said stiffly. He stood and tucked the note into his jacket pocket. “I just want to help.”
“You’re helping him by giving a shit. That’s more than you ever did for people before he entered your life.” Miguel stood and clapped him on the back. “Baby steps, my man.”
“Thanks.” Maksim quirked a smile. “Good luck with—”
“This?” Miguel pulled another sprig of mistletoe out of his pocket and planted an obscenely loud, wet kiss on the side of Maksim’s face.
“Jesus!” Maksim dragged his sleeve across his cheek.
“Pass that along to your boy,” Miguel
laughed. “Tell him it’s thanks for that time he saved my life.”
Maksim rolled his eyes and gave him the finger as he retreated from the office. Miguel’s laughter followed him out the door.
5
It was one week before Christmas, and it had begun to snow.
People were losing their damn minds. Snow was such a rarity in Portland that only a few inches had people hoarding emergency rations and skidding into telephone poles. Fluffy flakes drifted from an overcast sky, and sirens kept a steady background cadence through the city, as ambulances were dispatched to dozens of fender benders.
It was the last day of winter term and Val was standing in front of the mathematics lecture hall, when Maksim pulled up to idle at the curb. He didn’t get out, and he didn’t honk. He sat behind the wheel and soaked up the sight of his man.
Val stood out among his peers. The crowd surrounding him looked like overgrown kids, lanky and posturing. Val carried himself with a surety that communicated his competence, and other young men and women gravitated to it. He’d seen more in his twenty-five years than most people witnessed their entire lives.
Val tipped his head back and laughed at something a boy who looked barely out of his teens had said. Snowflakes collected like confetti in his dark hair.
Maksim knew the exact moment he’d been spotted. Val forgot the crowd existed and immediately headed toward the car, tossing a few careless words over his shoulder and raising a hand in farewell.
Maksim leaned over the center console and shoved open the door for him.
“What are you doing here?” Val asked as he sank into the heated passenger seat.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Yeah?” His eyes were alight with good humor. He leaned in and gave Maksim a kiss that was all too brief for his liking. “Are we going to celebrate the official start of our vacation together?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Maksim shifted the Mercedes into drive. “But first we need to pick something up.”
“I already stocked up on lube.”
“Har har.”
Val grinned. He sank into his seat and kicked his long legs out as far in front of him as the vehicle would allow.
School was out for a month, and Maksim had demanded a two-week vacation. They were both looking forward to spending some undivided quality time together.
Val’s hand crept across the center console and rested on Maksim’s thigh. It wasn’t provocative. It was a comfort, a way to reconnect after a hellish week. Maksim let his own hand drop to cover Val’s fingers, and gave him a squeeze.
He was so content that he didn’t even flinch when Val switched on the radio and O Holy Night began to bleat from his stereo.
A half-hour later, they turned down a gravel driveway. A mud-spattered sign that read Pets 4 Vets in green paint flashed past the window, and Val’s expression changed to one of apprehension.
“What is this place?” he asked, even though his accusing tone indicated he already knew.
Maksim pulled in front of a refurbished doublewide with peeling siding. Dog runs stretched out from the sides and back of the trailer like the legs of a metal spider. The few acres of land that wrapped around the trailer were blanketed in a couple of inches of snow.
“I thought we should add to the family,” he said mildly.
“Oh, really?” Val glared. “Getting yourself a pet, huh?”
“It could belong to both of us.”
“But it would just happen to hang out with me more often, right?”
“Well, I work longer hours…”
“I can’t fucking believe you,” Val interrupted, low and furious. “What part of ‘I can handle it’ did you not understand?”
“The part where you weren’t handling it!” Maksim snapped back. “Or do I have to come home and find you passed out on the shower floor again?”
“It’s none of your business, goddammit!” Val punched the dashboard with a fist like a mallet. The plastic creaked, and Maksim feared for a split second he’d set off the airbag.
When nothing catastrophic happened, he breathed deep and attempted to establish some rational dialogue.
“Of course, it’s my business,” he said calmly. “I love you. I’d never been so scared than I was when I came home and found you in the shower like that. Do you get it now? I thought you were dead. I’d rather be back at Russo’s mansion, staring down the barrel of a gun, than go through that again.”
Val shifted uncomfortably. He looked out the window. “That was months ago,” he muttered.
“Yes,” Maksim agreed. “You improved so steadily afterward, I thought we were past it. But lately—”
“It’s a rough season,” Val interrupted. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. Getting discharged, Pop, Russo… it all happened last winter. Of course, I’m going to be thinking about it.”
“I agree,” Maksim eased the Mercedes into a parking space marked by two rotting logs. A battered white Chevy sat beside them. “It’s to be expected. There are always a few steps back in every healing process.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that you’ve forgotten everything you learned about accepting what’s going on in that brain of yours. You aren’t working through it. You’re ignoring it, and you’re hiding from it. Just like you were when we met.”
Val was silent for a long time. He stared blindly out the window, and Maksim pretended he couldn’t see the glassy film in his eyes. The only sounds were the whoosh of the heater and a dog barking somewhere in the distance.
“You’re right,” Val croaked. “But how is a dog going to help?”
“These dogs are trained to recognize signs of anxiety before you do. They’re trained to alert to your distress. They can even interrupt nightmares. A service dog would keep you grounded in the present and help you work through your calming techniques before your symptoms get out of control.”
“Can they cook, too?” Val asked dryly.
Maksim ignored him. “There are veteran programs like this all over the country. They work.”
Val remained unconvinced.
“At least come take a look. I already spoke with the trainer. She’s expecting us.”
“One of these days,” Val said as he climbed out of the car and slammed his door with more force than necessary, “being such an arrogant sonofabitch will bite you on the ass.”
“Undoubtedly,” Maksim held back his smile. “But it works too well all the other times for me to ever stop.”
Val snorted.
“Well, hey!” exclaimed a robust female voice. A stocky woman with sandy brown hair exited the trailer, slamming the screen door behind her. “I wondered if the snow would keep you in the city.”
“I learned to drive in Pennsylvania,” Maksim replied with a chuckle. “This isn’t snow.”
“Glad you made it,” the woman declared as they climbed a short row of steps to her front deck. She thrust out a hand. “I’m Amelia Cuthbert.”
“Maksim Kovalenko.” He shook her hand and gestured toward Val, who had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. “My partner, Val Rivetti.”
Her eyes were like faded cornflowers, with deep grooves at the corners from grinning into the sun. They flicked assessingly up and down Val’s body, and then she smiled. “You’ve come to the right place, Devil Dog.”
Val frowned. “You served?”
“Sure as hell did.” Amelia tucked her thumbs through her belt loops and rocked back on her heels. “Infantry, 2nd Division. Two tours.”
Val gave a single nod, but Maksim sensed they had reached an understanding he couldn’t fathom.
“So let’s get all the bullshit protests out of the way before we look at the dogs, okay?”
“I’m not—”
She held up a hand. “This ain’t my first rodeo, Rivetti. Everyone walks through the door saying the same thing. I don’t want one, I don’t need one, it won’t help. I’ve heard it all. But you
wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need what we’ve got. Fact. So when you walk through my door you keep your mouth shut and your heart open, got it?”
Maksim’s eyebrows felt like they’d taken permanent residence in his hair, they’d climbed so high. He looked askance at Val, certain he wouldn’t put up with being spoken to in such a manner by a veritable stranger. Maksim certainly wouldn’t. But Val was strangely at ease. A funny little smile teased the corners of his mouth.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Maksim’s jaw dropped.
“Good.” Amelia gestured them to follow her. “We’ll go through the house. The dog houses are out back.”
“How many dogs do you have?” Maksim asked, valiantly struggling to ignore the smell of animal urine and industrial cleaner that assailed his nostrils as soon as he crossed the threshold.
Surprisingly, the trailer wasn’t Amelia’s home, as he had first guessed, but what looked like an office and makeshift training facility. A few metal chairs were pushed against a wall, and a beaten wood desk piled with receipts sat against another.
Amelia led them out a rear door, back into the frigid air, and down a wheelchair ramp.
“Five on the property, at the moment. Two of them are still in training, though. I have a few more being fostered with families at the moment.”
Val regarded the outbuilding and its attached dog runs unhappily.
“How long have you been doing this?” Maksim asked.
“Ten years,” Amelia answered. She opened the door to the kennel and gestured them inside. “I started it up after a good friend of mine killed himself. He’d just gotten home from his third tour in Iraq.”
“Damn,” Val muttered. No condolences offered. None wanted, Maksim suspected.
“Even these days, twenty vets commit suicide every single day,” Amelia spit the fact out like a bullet. “That’s almost one an hour, every damned day, when half the country doesn’t even know we’re at war.”
“They don’t want to know,” Val murmured.
Amelia scoffed. “Our vets need more than a pat on the back and some relaxation techniques. Not all of them are as lucky as you, either. Lots of them are alone. No family, no lovers. No one. My dogs remind them what it’s like to be loved.”
The Rules of Gift Giving Page 11