Soldier Mine (Sons of War #2)(4)

“There you have it. If you join the military, you’ll end up with one leg,” I tell him.

“That’s so lame, Claud. I’m not seven. Not everyone who joins has a leg blown off. I can join in three years. You always say I should be prepared for whatever life throws my way.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Just don’t threaten to blow up this school like you did the last.”

He stares at me, startled. Seconds later, he starts to laugh. “That’s just wrong! I can’t even … you know that never happened!”

“Whatever, kid.” I’m happy to see him smile. He’s so serious anymore, and our tiny family can only take one serious person, which is me. It’s just been us for four years, no friends, and no other family. I slide between the role of his mother and older sister as needed and sometimes forget which I’m supposed to be: the one who empathizes and teases or the one who lectures.

His moodiness temporarily replaced by good humor and hunger, he wolfs down his burger and sits back to nibble on his fries. It’s slow between the lunch and dinner rushes, and I straighten up the dishes under the counter.

Another regular, an old man, enters and sits at the end of the breakfast bar. “Your usual, Henry?” I call.

“Yep.”

I put in his order then pour his decaf coffee.

“His leg bends and everything. He can even ride a motorcycle with it,” Todd adds between French fries.

“You’re obsessing over this guy’s leg, Todd. It’s kind of weird,” I chide him, uncertain what it is my brother finds fascinating about the one-legged war hero.

“Khavalov boy?” Henry asks, lifting his attention from the Sudoku book in front of him.

“Yeah,” Todd answers. “He came to our school today.”

“Good kid,” Henry says in approval. “Shame what happened to his twin.”

I listen as they chat about the visitor, more interested in the idea Todd is opening up to a stranger than anything else. My brother is more reticent about talking to others than I am. At least as a waitress, I have the opportunity for small talk, unlike Todd, who tends to be withdrawn and studious.

I take care of my duties and then return to the counter.

“No way!” Todd exclaims. “Seriously?”

“Yep,” Henry says.

“What’d I miss?” I ask curiously.

“Remember when we passed by the castle outside of town when we moved here?” Todd asks. “It’s their house. The Khavalovs.”

“Crazy.” Born and raised lower middle class, I can’t imagine the stone compound, with its foreboding fa?ade, is somewhere people actually live. I mistook it for a hotel when we drove into Glory Glade.

“I didn’t think you all were from around here,” Henry says. “I never forget a face.” He taps his temple. “Where you from?”

Todd clamps up immediately, and I quickly sort through the list of places we’ve claimed to live to ensure my story is consistent with what I’ve told others here. “From out west,” I reply. “The Inland Empire, as they call it. It’s the farmland in the middle of California.” It’s not a complete lie; we lived near LA for five years when Todd and I were children. I know the area we’re claiming to be from well enough to answer general questions, and it’s far from where we spent most of our lives in the South.

“Can you believe I’ve never been farther west than Colorado?” Henry says. “California seems like a foreign country. Welcome to Glory Glade.”

“Thanks.” I smile.

Todd has sunk into another melancholic quiet, his focus on his French fries and excitement about the bionic billionaire vanished.

It makes me sad to see the sudden change. It’s more than teen angst that causes it, and the reminder that I’m the reason my brother hasn’t known stability or a real home in four and a half years hurts me.

I want so much more for him. I don’t know how to make that happen, though, not with the way things are now.

My phone vibrates and I freeze automatically.

Todd, close enough to hear it, looks up quickly. We stare at each other for a moment before I reach in to check the message.

“Did he find us?” he whispers.

I sigh, unaware of how tight my chest is until I try to take a deep breath. I show him the phone. “Reminder about your dentist appointment in two weeks.”

Todd isn’t as quick to relax as I am. He gazes at his plate, no longer reaching for the fries.

“We’re okay, kid,” I assure him and lean over the counter to whack him on the arm. The movement reveals the scars along my inner arm, a constant reminder of what we’re running from. “Promise.”

He nods. “I’m almost big enough to take care of you.”

“Almost. Until then, I’ll take care of you.” He hit a growth spurt this year and grew half a foot. He’s my height now. While he doesn’t yet tower over me, he definitely will by the end of the school year. “Go hide out in the corner and start your homework.”

This time, there’s no sigh or eye rolling or snarky response when he grabs his bag and stands. For once, I wish there was. I want him to be a normal teen whose biggest issues are homework and girls instead of a troubled kid who lives in a state of constant worry and fears trusting anyone.