by Lizzy Ford
Again? How did he know? My thoughts fly to Sawyer. I wonder if this is the reason Harris hasn’t dropped by my house in months. Petr or Sawyer – or both – scared him off.
“The cripple thinks he can still fight.” Harris appears amused.
“Petr is not –” I start.
“Katya.” Petr’s sharp tone silences me. Riley offers a small smile and shakes his head for me to keep quiet. “Let’s finish this, Harris. You and the cripple.”
Harris’s grip loosens, and I yank free.
“Fine,” Harris says curtly.
Petr walks out of the kitchen onto the veranda. After a hesitation, Harris follows. Riley remains in the kitchen with me.
“They’re not seriously gonna fight are they?” I trail, alarmed.
“Your brother can handle it,” Riley advises.
“I don’t need him to handle anything for me!” I snap. And he shouldn’t be fighting on his bad leg!
“Katya, respectfully, if you interfere, I’ll pick you up and move you.”
“Just try it!” That shit never worked for Captain Mathis. It’ll definitely never work for Riley, who almost sounds apologetic.
I hurry out, making my way through the crowd gathering on the veranda. I reach the stairs before Riley catches me and wraps an arm around me, hauling me away from the stairs to the railing instead.
“Dammit, Riley!” I mutter and push at the thick arm.
“You’re staying right here, Kitty-Khav.”
“He’s right.” Carson says joining us. “This is Petr’s battle.”
“It’s not anyone’s battle! This is stupid and insane!” I retort.
Carson gazes down at me, amused. “He’s taking care of his sister. It’s the right thing to do.”
I’ll never understand how these men think. Violence doesn’t resolve issues. It makes them fester, and if Petr gets hurt, I’ll probably kill Harris and then him. Fighting to get free from Riley is like trying to move a tree out of my path, and I stop struggling with a frustrated sigh.
Petr and Harris are in the snow. Harris is saying something that doesn’t reach those of us on the deck watching. I can’t get over the change in Petr. It’s strange. I can see Captain Mathis cracking necks. I can’t see my sweet Petr doing the same, even though I know they went through similar training and ran missions together.
Harris lands the first punch, knocking Petr back a couple of steps. I flinch and try once more to get free. Riley isn’t moving. Even if he did, I don’t think Carson is going to let me past him.
Not that either of them would stop me from trying, if something bad happened to my brother.
Petr’s nose is bleeding. I’m panicking inside, eyeing his fake leg and afraid he’ll get hurt.
He dabs at the blood and then laughs.
What the hell? Who responds like that to getting punched? I watch, anxious and concerned for my brother. He shakes out his shoulders and lowers his stance some. I’m waiting for his leg to snap in two or something horrible.
I’m not expecting my gentle brother to slam one fist then another and another … over and over into Harris. He moves so fast and hits hard enough to knock Harris back with each strike. I’ve never seen my brothers fight. They wrestled once or twice but never like this.
Harris gets in a couple more blows, including one aimed at my brother’s leg, before Petr picks him up and slams him into the ground.
Harris stays down. Petr goes with him, planting his knee on his chest while his fake leg is straight off to the side. He’s pounding the shit out of Harris’s face. Blood flies everywhere, terrifying me. If he kills Harris … if he hurts him enough to go to jail …
How can this be my sweet Petr?
“Petr!” I shout, horrified. “Stop!”
He pauses and looks up towards me, his face and upper body splattered with blood.
Harris isn’t moving.
My heart is pounding hard. I’m not sure which is worse: the sight of all the blood or knowing my brother would probably kill Harris, if given the chance.
Petr checks Harris’s pulse and then stands, walking towards the deck.
I pull lose from Riley and go to my brother, meeting him when he reaches the top of the stairs. Staring at him, I’m not at all sure what to say or feel. I hate violence, and he just beat the shit out of someone.
He offers me a quick smile and lifts his chin at Carson and Riley.
“Show’s over!” Riley calls to those on the deck. He starts waving people away from the railing. “Anyone want to call an ambulance?”
“Petr!” I don’t know what else to say. Gazing up at my bloodied brother, I’m horrified by what he’s done and amazed he did it. His features soften until he’s my Petr again. “What the hell -”
“Hush, Katya,” he says gruffly but quietly. “Let me defend my little sister in peace.” A note much firmer than any he’s ever used with me is present. “Okay?”
I nod somewhat uncertainly.
“I told him never to come back,” he adds. “No one is going to hurt my family, especially not a dickweed like that one.”
Tears fill my eyes. Despite the blood that’s grossing me out, I’m a little touched by his determination. I never really noticed how alone I feel in my own family, like I’m the one trying to take care of everyone else.
“Are you okay?” I venture, not yet sure if it’s safe to talk yet.
“Awesome. Haven’t gotten punched in a while. Almost forgot what it felt like,” Petr says cheerfully.
“You’re so weird.”
“And you’re so stubborn. If anyone ever bothers you again and you don’t tell me, I’ll be pissed at you, Katya.”
“You’re not my boss,” I fire back.
“I’m your brother.” He pushes me away to see my eyes. “We stick together. You beat up my girlfriends, and I beat up the guys bugging you.”
I’m not used to my brother being assertive. He’s a strong, good man. I’m surprised to find that I’m not angry for him standing up to me. There was a time when I’d be furious at him. It makes me think Captain Mathis was right yet again: Petr is so much stronger than I gave him credit for. Even missing a leg, he can beat the shit out of anyone. It shouldn’t make me proud, but it does.
“We need ice cream,” he finishes and takes my arm, walking towards the house.
“Is Harris okay?” I ask.
“He’ll live.” He doesn’t sound at all concerned.
Whether or not I should, I trust my brother and let it go.
The partygoers are already distracted by beer and s’mores. Carson remains by Harris while Riley looks like he’s entertaining people to keep their attention away from the horrible scene on the back lawn.
I take a seat at the breakfast bar and watch Petr pull ice cream out of the freezer.
“Things are gonna change around here a little, Katya.”
After his display on the lawn, I’m listening. He sets down the ice cream then peels off his bloody t-shirt, displaying his muscular upper body. He pulls on his sweater before washing his hands then dipping us both bowls full of ice cream.
This is kind of … strange. He kicks someone’s ass, walks away and eats ice cream. Is this what he did in Iraq? Why doesn’t almost killing Harris bother him one bit?
“I’ve always kind of brushed you off as the annoying little sister. I guess it never hit me until this year that you’re not her anymore,” he says, setting a bowl down before me. “I’m sorry if you felt left out around Mikael and me, or if we didn’t ever really take you seriously.”
Puzzled, I take a bite of ice cream and think about what I want to say. I don’t think I can stomach eating much. I keep glancing at the bloodied t-shirt and hoping Harris is okay. Not for his sake, but so Petr isn’t thrown in jail or something.
“I am very grateful for you in my life and for all you did this year,” he continues.
“I felt left out when you guys left, but not in a bad way. I don’t think. I mean, I didn’t blam
e you for going.”
“Everything changed this year.”
I nod, gazing at my ice cream. I push it away.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want you as my friend. Not my caretaker,” he says. “I don’t need you to be my mother, and there are days, Katya …” He gives a growl of frustration. “Let’s just say it’s like you see me as broken, as someone who needs help. I’m neither of those, Kitty-Khav.”
He’s speaking gently, as if knowing he’s hurting me. I’m pretty sure he’s right. What he’s telling me isn’t new; I’ve heard it from a couple different sources. It doesn’t make it easier to swallow.
He’s waiting for me to talk.
I clear my throat. “I don’t think you’re broken or lesser because of your leg. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you, and everything I do is because I love you, Petr.”
“I know, Kitty,” he says. “We’ve both had to change this year. I’m proud of you and how well you’ve dealt with everything. It’s because of this that I thought now was a good time to talk to you.”
“I don’t know how to be different,” I say with some difficulty. “I don’t want to let you go.”
“I’m not asking you to. Just asking you to be my friend and my sister. Not worrying every second of the day about me. Not assuming that I can’t take care of myself. Maybe trusting that I know what I’m doing with my life and my health and respecting my choices,” he says softly. “Waiting until I fuck up to yell at me. Talking to me instead of lecturing me.”
We’ve never really spoken to each other this way. Well, maybe he’s tried. I don’t really know. Tired and stressed from watching him beat up Harris, I’m about to cry again, and my throat is tight. “Can I be your best friend?”
He laughs. “Yes. I have a lot to work on, too, when it comes to talking to you and others. Not being afraid of opening up or taking a chance on people.”
“Like we need anyone else,” I joke.
“We’ve got to date someday. Well, you’ve got your puppy.”
“You really don’t like him?” I venture to look up and see my brother gazing at me warmly. I wipe my eyes.
“He’s so … boring.”
I stifle a laugh.
“He does everything you say and never stops smiling. Doesn’t that drive you nuts?” Petr asks.
“A little. I figured I’d break it off after the holidays.”
“Yeah, you can’t kick a puppy at Christmas. Pretty sure you go to hell for that one,” he agrees.
I giggle, even knowing how awful it is to talk about Oliver and sweet little puppies like this.
“I always thought Captain Mathis would be good for you,” he adds too casually.
I grimace. Even hearing his name out loud causes me pain. “Definitely not.”
“Because …”
“Because … he deserves better,” I whisper.
“Katya!”
“He does.” I can’t say more without opening the dam I’ve carefully emplaced. “So no. Maybe I need a break from men for a while.”
“I’ll support that,” Petr says. “Will save me from having to beat up anyone else.”
“So barbaric.”
“He won’t be back, and he knows what’ll happen if he talks to you again. That’s what matters.”
I suppress a smile. I kind of like the idea of us being friends. I didn’t realize how one-way our relationship was before this. I’ve always chased my brothers and father around, cleaning up after them, yelling at them for cursing or whatever the minor infraction, taking care of them.
My brothers were never really interested in me, let alone willing to consider me as a friend. If anything, they found me either a nuisance or amusing, depending on the issue. The fact Petr wants to be a friend is … amazing.
Wiping my cheeks, I nod. “I like the idea of us being friends,” I decide.
“Good.”
“I’m still going to beat up any woman who hurts your feelings and yell at you sometimes.”
“I’ll beat up any more Harrises you bring home. Don’t be surprised if I start pushing back when you yell. I’ve learned a few tips from Captain Mathis on handling challenging people.”
I roll my eyes. The last thing I need is my brother turning into Sawyer.
“Deal? Friends?” he asks, extending his hand.
I sigh and nod. Instead of taking his hand, I hug him.
“You look beat. Go to bed,” he says quietly. “Big day tomorrow.”
“Don’t kill anyone before I get up.”
“I won’t, Kitty-Khav.”
I release him and start away.
“Thanks for listening.” He stands and takes the bowls. “Sleep well, sis.”
I feel like crying. Without another word, I go to my room. The house is insulated well enough that I don’t hear the party below. I peek out the windows at everyone, though, recalling a time when I’d be the first person drinking and the last on my feet.
Blinking, I stare and then rub my eyes. My heart takes off, and I find myself leaning against the cold glass to see better.
For a split second, I thought I saw Sawyer Mathis.
“I’m more tired than I thought.”
Not that it matters if I did. But I stand for a full five minutes, scouring the faces of everyone, just in case.
He’s not there. I’m not sure whom I saw, but there’s no way it’s him.
Isn’t that a good thing? Do I want it to be him?
I’m too tired to know for sure.
Chapter Twenty One: Sawyer
I’m still kicking myself over missing the scene with Petr and Harris. I’m not used to people disobeying me, and I’m definitely not happy about not getting to kick Harris’ ass. What kind of Marine isn’t there to defend his buddy in a brawl? Not that Petr needed the help, according to what Riley told me.
I could’ve used the outlet, though. It’s probably the twenty hours of good sleep I got, but I’m wired today.
Petr disappeared this morning to Katya’s event. The house is quiet, with people occupied in the media rooms, gym, bowling alley, stables, and wherever else the Khavalovs have set up to amuse people over the three day party. I’ve never seen anything like this place or imagined that a house would have a full-sized movie theatre, among other luxuries far beyond the normal reach of the average person.
There’s no way Katya could ever leave this behind, and I’m doubting my visit.
Which I hate.
Riley stops Petr’s Range Rover in front of the valet at the country club. Already, the scene appears festive, with decorations spilling out of the club and crowds of people lining up for the sleigh rides or Christmas maze.
We get out. The air smells like peppermint and cinnamon.
Uncertain what I’m doing here, or how Katya might react when I see her, I am determined to live up to my name of Iceman and stay calm. I’m enjoying my vacation so far. Tons of food, sleep and great company … even if there’s nothing between us, I’m capable of appreciating the break.
“I haven’t been home for the holidays for three years,” Riley says. His eyes are glowing as he takes in the scene. “I didn’t realize how much I missed all this shit.”
“None of my holidays were anything like this,” Carson says. His arm is wrapped around a tall brunette model I vaguely recall from a magazine. They’ve been inseparable all day.
“I don’t think the Khavs live the way we do,” Riley comments wryly. “Hey, Sawyer, did Petr show you the ammo depot?”
“No,” I respond, perking up. “Is it huge?”
“Have him take you.” He laughs. I’m not sure why. I can easily believe that Petr and his father both are into weapons.
We head inside, which can only be described as cheerful chaos. People mill, decorations cover every surface, and the scents of food are thick in the air.
It’s got Katya written all over it. Exuberant, bright, overwhelming. I’m better fitted to the austere, less-is-more approach of the militar
y than the colorful fantasyland around me.
Not that I don’t like it. It has the effect I’m sure she wanted. I relax despite the crowd and sensory overload. There’s glitter and brightness everywhere I turn. It’s uplifting, happy.
Riley goes one way while Carson and his girl go another. I follow the scent of baked goods to a catered room filled with pies, cookies and homemade bread. I ate a huge breakfast a few hours ago, when I woke up midmorning, and snag a couple of cookies, unable to resist the pull of real food.
There’s a punch fountain on one table and a cocoa fountain on another. No booze, given the youthful crowd, and I settle for a bottle of water. Once I’ve gotten my bearings, I pull out my cell and text her a message I’m sure will get a reaction. Whether it’s good or bad or even if she’ll respond, I don’t know.
Where are you? Pushing send, I tuck the phone away and make my way through the sweets again, picking out pieces here and there.
My phone vibrates, and I check it.
Petting zoo.
She responded. That’s something. I return to the lobby, where there are candy canes acting as poles that have arrows pointing to all the different rooms. I follow the one towards the children’s section. It’s loud and even more over the top than the rest of the club.
“Captain Mathis!”
I turn at the child’s voice to see little Jacob headed towards me, followed by Jenna and Morgan. Jacob is digging something out of his pocket. I’m hoping it’s not a spider.
“You came!” Jenna exclaims. She’s absolutely adorable dressed as an elf, cute enough that even I crouch to give her a hug.
All three of them hug me. They smell like food and peppermint, a scent I will always associate with Katya and camp.
“I have one more left,” Jacob says, handing me a handcrafted arachnid. “It’s a Christmas spider.”
“I see that,” I say. The white spider is covered in green and red glitter. “Did you make it here?”
“He brought it from home.” Jenna answers for him. “Look, I have one, too.” She proudly points to the spider pin on her hat.
“Me, too,” Morgan adds and shows me the one she has on her jacket.