Soldier Mine (Sons of War #2)(33)

There are no class visits today, so I change into my uniform and head to the recruitment center. This time of year is slow for recruiting with each of the three soldiers assigned here beginning through two-week vacation rotations.

“Got another one, Petr,” the man holding down the fort calls as I walk in from the chilly morning. “Every time you do a school visit, someone signs up. Paperwork’s on your desk!”

“Great.” I sit down and start entering information into the system.

The day drags. Katya sends me a text-novel promising to bring Sawyer for Christmas and includes a list of cookies she wants the chef to make. Brianna tells me she’s made it to New York, and Todd’s messages are about paintballing tonight. There’s a reminder from my doctor about my monthly checkup, and emails from college friends and buddies from the military who might be passing through Glory Glade over the holidays.

I hit the gym around two and am ready to pick up Todd at four as promised. He’s too excited to ask me this night if I’m stopping in to say hi to his sister.

We head to paintball, where the kid who seemed coordinated last night ends up unable to fire a weapon and move at the same time. I haven’t laughed this hard since before Mikael’s death, and Todd leaves the two-hour event with a black eye, red and green paint in his hair and a huge grin.

“That was the best thing ever!” he exclaims happily.

“Is your sis going to let you come back?” I ask as we get into the truck.

“I hope so.” He touches his eye. “Ow!”

“Ice and ibuprofen.”

“Oh, I know. It’s not the first time I’ve gotten beat up.”

“You get bullied in school or something?”

“No.” His expression grows shuttered for a moment before he brightens. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Karate again.”

“Awesome.”

He subsides into texting, and I drive him home, amused, and drop him off.



I’m half afraid of what Claudia will say the next morning about bringing her brother home with a shiner. Baba doesn’t go with me this time, and I wait for Claudia to lecture me or scold me or something about Todd’s eye.

She brings me my usual with a quick smile. “Todd had a blast last night,” she says.

“Your hair looks cute,” I reply, eyes on the bun she’s sporting in place of a ponytail. Her makeup is a tad heavier today, too. I can’t think it’s for me. She can’t be rejecting me daily and more interested in her appearance for my sake, too.

“Thanks.” She tucks the ever-present stray hair behind her ear, cheeks rosy. “I didn’t have time to wash it this morning.”

“No comment about his eye?”

“He’s a boy who went to paintball,” she replies. “I have no right to yell at you anyway. You’re doing me a favor.”

“It’s not a favor. I enjoy spending time with him.”

She lifts her eyebrows. “No one enjoys spending time with a fourteen year old.”

I laugh. “All right. You caught me. I’m doing it for you.”

“Eat your pie.” She marches away.

“Dinner?” I call after her.

“Ask me tomorrow!”

Smiling, I watch the way her hips swing and admire the length of her legs before digging into my breakfast. I’d like to think this is a game of cat and mouse, that the stakes are nothing more than dinner. But I know better or at least, I suspect there’s a lot more at risk for her than dinner.

I put on my scarf a short time later, ready to leave, when she returns with the portfolio Baba gave her yesterday. With some hesitation, she sits across from me, nibbling on her lower lip.

“Promise not to laugh if these suck?” she asks.

“Sure. You have mockups already?”

She nods.

For someone trying to push me away, she somehow manages to compel me closer daily. I look at her too long once more.

“I had time,” she says as if trying to brush off the fact she spent her little free time working on my father’s project.

“Show me,” I say and lean forward.

She opens the portfolio. “I had to print these at FedEx since we don’t have a printer, and their ink on one of the machine was low,” she murmurs. “I made four distinct versions, all to his specifications.”

With some nervousness, she sets out four card samples. I study each, struggling not to smile and wanting so badly to wrap my arms around her for a hug. She has no idea how well she’s passing my father’s test.

The cheerful cards are each distinct: one serious, two fun with completely different designs and one that looks post modern with simple lines, subdued colors and faded graphics.

“It’s okay if you don’t like them,” she says at my silence. “I’m a bit out of practice.”

“These are beautiful.” I rest my hand over one of hers without looking up. “How long did these take you?” I ask.

“Not long.”

I meet her gaze.

She flushes. “All night.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Claudia.”

“You didn’t have to take care of Todd.”

“I care about both of you. Comes with the territory.” I smile to hopefully take away the gravitas of our exchange.