by Lizzy Ford
At my silence, Petr smiles. “Bathroom.” He points to one of the doors along a wall and then to another. “Closet. You’re welcome to move anything around that you want.”
I nod.
“Get some rest. I’m sure Riley and Carson will be up at some point tomorrow to drag you out.”
He leaves.
I set my gear down and absorb everything he’s said.
Home. It’s not something I ever expected to find or in this case, have dropped into my lap. I can’t help wishing I felt better about this trip. If Katya hates me, this isn’t going to be home for long.
Too tired to dwell on it, I take a quick shower and drop into bed.
Chapter Twenty: Katya
Today is the set up for both my father’s annual party and the holiday fundraiser I’m managing. Both kick off tomorrow, with my event – a Winter Wonderland auction and dinner benefiting children of wounded vets – lasting all day. It’s the first I’ve organized, and my nerves are completely shot.
I can’t think of a better way to spend the holidays than doing something that will make Mikael, Petr and my father so proud.
Even if I can’t stop hurting inside.
Or maybe it’s because most of Mikael’s team will be present that I don’t mind missing out on the annual event.
My therapist says I’m doing well. I know it helps having a positive outlet, channeling the pain I still experience about Mikael’s death into helping those who need it. I’ve finally accepted that my brothers chose to serve their country, and I have to respect that decision. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to blindly support the military or the idea of war, but I can help those like my brothers who join up to make a difference. The people behind the war, I guess. People like Captain Mathis, who lead others into battle and then have to deal with the consequences alone.
I never responded to his letter and heard no more from or about him, aside from Petr’s confirmation he wasn’t returning for the party while the other guys are.
It bothers me. Thinking of him makes me hollow inside. I read his letter every morning for the week following its arrival and then put it away.
Your letter destroyed me.
That pain, the one stemming from knowing I hurt him, isn’t relenting. There’s nothing I can do about it now. I burnt that bridge; that much is clear.
Shaking my head, I look from the first light snow of the winter that coats the lawn and forest visible through the window of my bedroom to the open the desk drawer where I placed the letter from Captain Mathis. I’m tempted to toss it into the fire burning in the hearth.
I won’t. I already know I’ll take it with me wherever I end up someday, a reminder of someone I wish I’d had met under difference circumstances and of how my fiery emotions burn up those around me sometimes.
It’s also a reminder that my biggest regret is not sitting down to get to know him. I had to learn who he was through a letter.
Tucked in the envelope is a customs slip. I finally sent him the Ruptured Duck a few weeks ago. I bought it for someone I cared about, and I sent it, even if whatever disaster of a relationship we had is over. It only seemed right for the duck to go to someone who would appreciate it.
Letting go of it was hard and took me weeks of hyping myself up. It’s not possible to get over the impact Sawyer Mathis has had on my life, no matter how much time passes. I want to. I’m trying. But it’s like trying to forget Mikael. It’ll never happen. Sending off the duck was like accepting that I’d never see either of them again. It hurt so much, I cried when I returned from the post office.
I sent it with a phony address and no note. I’m counting on him thinking it’s from the Marine friend who inspired him to enlist. If he’s staying there for Christmas, he might as well not be alone. The duck can keep him company.
The idea makes me smile, and I close the drawer and grab a sweater.
“Ready, sis?” Petr calls, knocking on my door.
I join him in the hall. He’s dressed in a warm sweater that stretches across his broad chest and dark slacks.
“You need a scarf,” I tell him automatically.
“Trained killer. No scarf.”
“You look tired. Were you drinking all night?”
He rolls his eyes. “Come on.”
We leave the house through the servants’ stairwell to the car awaiting us out front. Our house is full of guests, the way it is every year this time. The second floor is packed with relatives, family friends and Petr’s military friends, and the overflow is being housed in the guest cottages and motherin-law wing of the mansion.
This evening is my last walk through of the event site for the charity event tomorrow.
“Hope this is worth leaving the guys and the booze,” Petr says.
“You’ll have plenty of time to get drunk,” I snap. “How often do you get to see a charity event I put together?”
It’s my first. He knows better than to answer.
He’s smiling faintly, gaze on the snow brushing the window.
We travel the half hour to the exclusive country club Baba rented out at my insistence. The main areas are a flurry of activity with workers finishing up the exterior walkways, laying fake snow inside, and setting up the dining room. There’s a bazaar in one area with vendors setting up, a silent auction section featuring items donated by local families and others, a children’s room with a throne for Santa and live petting zoo on the porch extension, and a light display covering three acres out back, complete with lantern-lit walkway.
The activity, plentiful Christmas decorations and bright lights everywhere pull a smile from me, despite my apprehension about something being out of place or going wrong.
“You did all this?” Petr is standing in the middle of a miniature train track running around the interior of the building.
“Why do you sound surprised?” I raise an eyebrow at him and plant my hands on my hips.
“Not surprised, Kitty-Khav. Impressed.” He smiles. “Totally over the top and incredible, as usual.”
I look around, a little lost with how much is going on. I’m not as detail oriented as some and rely on Zach, my father’s chief assistant, to tell me when something is off. I’m so nervous about tomorrow that I’ve been here no less than ten times today, walking around to see the progress.
“Is that a donkey?” Petr asks, starting at the four-legged animal being led into the children’s room.
“I wanted a camel but Baba said no,” I say with a sigh.
He gives me an odd look I ignore. I peek into the different rooms, satisfied with how everything has come together between my first inspection this morning and now.
“What do you think?” I ask him after we tour the club.
“I think Mikael would shit himself knowing there’s a donkey in the club.”
“Petr!” I slap him lightly on the back of the head.
He laughs. “I love it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay, good, because you have to be here for the reception in the morning,” I say, pleased.
“Seriously? I’ve got a bottle of hundred year old whiskey waiting for me.”
“No drinking tonight!” I order him. “You can’t show up drunk or hung over.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Wait, are you even allowed to drink?”
“Kitty-Khav!” He wraps me in a chokehold and hauls me against him. “I’ll be here, and I’ll be capable of shaking a few hands.” He gives me a noogie. I bat his hand away. “Okay?”
It’s not, but this is something else I’ve been working on: not being quite so overbearing. I still worry about him all the time.
“Fine,” I snap. “Stop it!” I wriggle loose from him and smooth out my hair.
“Seriously. This is awesome.” His smile is warm, his blue eyes on me. “You’re amazing, Kitty.”
“I know. About time you figured that out.” I look around, nervous about everything. “Did you in
vite that girl you met to the party?”
“Nah.”
It’s not like Petr to be shy around a girl he’s interested in. When he says nothing further, I glance at him.
“Because …” I prod.
He shrugs.
“You don’t like her? She’s another Brianna? She’s mean?”
“Didn’t feel right.”
“What does that mean?” I study him.
He’s not interested in talking about it. That much I can see from the change in his expression. It’s never stopped me from dragging something out of him before, and it won’t now.
“If you like her, you should at least bring her by,” I urge. “I’ll tell you if you can date her or not.”
“She kind of freaked out about my leg,” he admits for my ears only.
“She what?” My face flashes hot. “Did she say something? I know how to punch now. You met her at the coffee shop, right?” Fury tears through me, replacing the chill of the club with warmth. I know the spots he frequents. I’m pretty sure I can find out which bitch she is.
Petr’s guarded expression melts with his laugh. “Down, Kitty-Khav. You aren’t beating up any more of my girlfriends.”
“Seriously, Petr. Did she say something?”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t need someone like that around. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, but –”
“But nothing. I consider myself fortunate to learn that before I decide if I like her or not. She’s not worth the anger, Kitty-Khav.” Too laid back to tell me to back off like I might him, I can hear the firm note in his tone that warns me I’m not helping the situation.
I stew for a minute, reining in my anger. Petr doesn’t seem too affected by it, but I know him well enough to know he is on some level. He’s always been more sensitive than Mikael was.
“You’re right.” Being calm when I want to scream is like eating glass. I hate it. It’s one lesson I haven’t learned well from the therapist. “Not worth it.” Except I’m too pissed to let it go like I should. “You can point her out next time we go to the coffee shop. I’ll handle it.”
He shakes his head with a grin. “It’s for the best, Kitty.”
“You are too good to deal with someone like that.” I’m calming, probably influenced by the fact he really doesn’t seem too upset. “People really suck.”
“There are good eggs out there. You just have to find them.”
And not drive them off. “That pisses me off. You’re the best person I know.”
“Speaking of dating, where’s your puppy?”
“Oliver isn’t a puppy,” I say and roll my eyes. He kind of does follow me around everywhere. “I told him to go home.”
“He’s really not your type.”
“He’s nice.” Oliver has been hinting a lot at becoming more serious as a couple, while I’m considering breaking it off. We’ve had sex a few times, but I’m not feeling it with him. “I don’t think I have a type.”
He definitely doesn’t drive me wild the way Sawyer Mathis did. I have a feeling I’ll compare every man I ever date to Sawyer. The one who got away. Or more accurately, the one I drove away.
“Dating sucks,” Petr mutters.
“Agreed.”
“You staying for a while?”
I nod. “I’m really nervous. I can’t seem to stay away. Hoping to see everything set up tonight so I can sleep without worrying.”
“It’ll go well,” he says with confidence I don’t feel. “Out of curiosity, how did you convince the club board to let you have livestock on the veranda?”
“I didn’t ask. I told them I was doing it.” I smile.
“Good girl.” He gives me a quick hug. “I’ll save a shot of whiskey for you.”
“Petr-” I start.
“Nope. I’m a grown man. If I want to drink, I will.” He draws himself up to his full height of right around six-foot-one. “Deal with it, sis.”
“Whatever.” I love Petr, even when he’s trying to act all tough like he is now. “Don’t forget a tie tomorrow morning.”
With another exasperated shake of his head, he leaves the club for the car waiting out front.
I watch him then turn back to the clubhouse. The event is taking shape, filled with sparkles and decorations and happiness that rubs off on me. I can’t help smiling, knowing I made this possible. I’m proud of myself.
With an optimistic guess that I’ll be out of there by nine o’clock, I dive in to help lay out silverware in the dining room.
***
It’s past midnight when I get home. The pre-party crowd has spilled out onto the deck, and I make my way through the throng, intent on reaching the back stairwell and escaping up to my room. Deck furniture surrounds several fire pits, and an open bar is located in the center of the open space.
Too tired to find Petr and remind him about the morning, I don’t bother stopping. I barely hear someone call my name until he’s right behind me. Jarred out of my daze, I turn to see Harris there.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.” I haven’t seen him since this summer. I assume his family was invited as usual to the holiday bash. A little leery after our last exchange, I find myself growing alert. He wouldn’t do anything in front of all these people. Of course, I won’t think twice about socking him if he does.
“Great party, as always,” he says, lifting his glass. He seems a little unfocused. “You, uh, got a minute to talk?”
“Yeah.”
“I mean away from all this.” He waves at the crowd.
“Um, not really. We can talk here.”
He glances around and inches close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “I thought maybe … you know. I could apologize in private.”
I hesitate. He’s drunk, and I’m not afraid to hit him. I’m pretty sure that puts us on even ground.
“Yeah. Come on.” Turning away, I lead him inside. I’m not stupid enough to take him upstairs, so I go to the kitchen. It smells of food, and there are platters of baked goods and confections and buffet trays of hearty food everywhere.
Facing him, I wait.
His gaze is as much on me as the blinking Christmas lights around the buffet table.
My patience is thinner than normal after the long day at the club. “I haven’t seen you since the camp this past summer,” I say, hoping to prod him into a quick apology so I can go to bed.
Harris focuses on me. “I’m not much of one for camping.”
“Me neither.” He’s talking clearly. I can tell he’s tipsy, though.
“I know, they said not to talk to you again, but … Katya, I just want things to go back to how they were.”
I’m not sure who he’s talking about or even if he knows what he’s saying. “I don’t think that’s possible, Harris.”
“Why not?” He almost shouts the words, flinging his arms wide enough that he manages to dump the rest of his drink on the kitchen floor.
“Because I don’t want to be your friend anymore,” I reply in irritation.
“You don’t?” He stares at me, surprised.
“Um, no.”
For a moment, he looks so hurt, I want to laugh. His surprise turns into anger that glints in his eyes. Red creeps up his neck and into his face. “So you avoid me all year and don’t want to be friends? My father donated to this stupid Winterland thing tomorrow and the camp!”
“Winter Wonderland,” I correct him automatically. “I thanked him personally.”
“He did it because I asked him to. Because I care about you, Katya.” He appears distraught, sad and then angry again. “I’ve been in love with you since we were like ten. You never gave me the time of day.”
Talk about moods. My therapist would have a field day with him. He’s off his rocker tonight. It’s unusual when someone else can make me feel like the most stable person in the room.
“Look, Harris,” I say quietly. I want to be kind for the sake of our friendship, but my tired
temper is fraying quickly. “You’re drunk. Sleep it off, and we’ll talk in the morning. Okay?”
“You’re brushing me off again.”
“You’re acting like a dick. Go sleep it off!”
“I just want to apologize.”
“Then do it and go to bed!”
He frowns. “There are days I wish both your brothers died.”
I gasp.
“You haven’t been to the club or dropped by my house since Petr came back hurt,” he goes on. “You haven’t been my friend since then.”
I take a deep breath. “My family is important to me, Harris. You know this.”
“And I’m not? We’ve been friends since we were three. You ditched me for that cripple of a brother of yours, Katya.”
“Ditched you? I lose one brother and the other comes back hurt, and you’re worried about me ditching you!” So much for calm. “I never want anything to do with you again, Harris. Not now, not tomorrow morning, not ever!”
“Selfish bitch! I’ve done so much for you, and you just –”
I whirl. I’m getting nowhere, arguing with a drunk, and I’m losing what calm I’ve learned to maintain over the past few weeks.
Harris snatches my arm, and I grimace. He’s squeezing too hard, reminding me of the night at camp when he slapped me after we had a similar argument about Petr.
“Let go, Harris!” I snap, trying to pry my arm free.
His grip is too tight.
“Let her go, Harris, and I won’t gut you the way you deserve.”
Harris goes rigid then turns.
If Petr’s lethal, sharp tone unnerves me, his stony expression renders him almost unrecognizable. I’ve never seen that look on his face. It’s scary and dangerous, an indication that my brother is every bit the trained killer he jokes about being. There’s no way the older brother who teases me with warmth is the same man as the one in the doorway to the deck, who looks ready to kill someone.
Riley is standing behind him, grim.
Harris gazes at him uncertainly for a moment before recovering. “I see you brought backup.”
“I don’t need backup with you.”
Riley moves into the room.
“Let my sister go, Harris. This is between us. I warned you what’d happen if you laid a hand on my sister again.” Petr is peeling off his sweater to reveal the white t-shirt beneath it. He tosses the sweater.