Soldier Mine (Sons of War #2)(16)

“I’m tired of that seat.”

“You can’t sit here.” I hear how ridiculous it sounds. It’s too late to take it back, though.

His eyes twinkle, and he drinks his coffee.

With my safe space invaded, I lean back against the wall next to where the orders go in to the cook.

We stare at each other for a long moment.

“Karate?” he asks.

“No.”

“Is that a decision, or are you refusing to make one still?”

“Decision.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He appears genuine. “Thanksgiving?”

“Maybe.”

“Good.” He leans back. “You’re more withdrawn than usual today. You okay?”

I bristle. I don’t like the thought of someone prying into what I feel is my privacy.

He seems to sense it and chuckles. “I noticed. That’s it.” He holds up his hands in playful surrender. “If you come in sick one day, I’m not sure who else knows how to make cold coffee.”

Do. Not. Smile.

“Or give me a piece of pie that’s more than an inch wide.”

The corners of my lips tilt up, and I duck my head. I am pretty ornery towards him. I wonder if he considers that flirting and if so, if I have been leading him on without realizing it.

“There we go,” he says, smiling. “Now I’ll piss you off. Please reconsider letting Todd go to karate.”

“I made my decision.”

“I know, just like I know I’m a complete stranger whose opinion probably doesn’t matter. But he needs to go. He needs the interaction with others his age, a healthy hobby and the confidence sports and martial arts instill in kids.”

The words are damning. They almost hurt to hear.

They infuriate me. Not because Petr is wrong or being obnoxious or sticking his nose in my business. But because someone else noticed that my brother isn’t normal, and it’s a reminder I’m hurting Todd by denying him the chance to live the life of a teenage boy.

“You can go,” I whisper, somewhere between crying and screaming at him. “Please.”

“Okay.” Petr studies me briefly before standing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Unable to summon a response, I nod.

I’m failing Todd, and I’m humiliated that it’s so apparent to an outsider.





Chapter Eight: Claudia


The rest of the day passes quickly. I’m doing my best to keep the world and my emotions at bay, and it leaves me in a rather distracted haze. I’m too rattled by Petr’s insistence to be offended by him offering his advice about my brother. I can’t get over the thought that I’m preventing Todd from being happy.

I don’t know what to do or how to make life better for my brother.

He brings Maya in briefly before they head to her parent’s for dinner. As ordered, he texts diligently every fifteen minutes and warns me he’ll be home around nine.

For the first time in forever, I walk home alone and stand in the apartment, surprised by how empty it is without him. We’ve spent little time apart over the years, usually only when he’s in school.

I despise the feeling of loneliness. Turning on the television loudly, I straighten the house and venture into Todd’s room. It’s a mess, as usual, and I gather the dirty laundry and clean up where possible. In his closet, precariously balanced on top of his suitcase, is his Secrets Box, the name we give to the container I’m not allowed to open. It’s his privacy vault, where he can put whatever he wants, a sort of compromise in parent-kid relationships we arrived to when he turned thirteen and brought home his first Playboy. He’s too good of a kid to sneak drugs into the house. Every once in a while, I wonder what he’s hiding but respect our agreement enough not to pry.

Cleaning around the shoebox-sized box with warning stickers all over it, I bend over to pair and line up his shoes and end up knocking the box over with my shoulder.

Muttering a curse, I bend to retrieve the container, praying it stays closed so Todd never has a reason to distrust me.

It’s landed on its top, and I pick it up carefully. Whatever is in it is too heavy for the lid to stay on, and I lift the box and leave the lid.

The contents render me too shocked to speak. For a long moment, I stare at the box’s secret, unable to process a single thought until my surprise wears off.

I pick up the cold, metal black handgun. It’s not a revolver, but I don’t know enough about weapons to name what it is. Berretta? It smells of gun oil, which tells me he maintains it. There are three clusters of bullets held together by thick rubber bands, a spare magazine and a small cleaning kit.

The box contains nothing else.

“Todd,” I whisper, my heart sinking.

There’s only one reason he has it, and it’s directly my fault. Todd has wanted to take care of me since he was waist high, and I’ve always told him it’s the older sibling’s responsibility. Resting the weapon in my lap, I can’t take my eyes off it or shake off the cold chill working its way through my body.

I swore never to look at the contents of his Secrets Box. Now that I have – by accident – I feel trapped. There’s no way in this life or the next that I’m going to let Todd shoot the man chasing us. This is my burden, and Todd bears too much of it already. I can’t imagine how he was able to obtain the gun, but I’m guessing it was from someone at school. There’s no other way. He doesn’t leave my sight when not at school, except for tonight.