Soldier Mine (Sons of War #2)(9)

I know this. I know the pseudo-relationship I have with Brianna is unhealthy. Yet it’s easier to get drawn in than to walk away and I want … crave an acknowledgment from her that I am every bit as deserving of her attention as I used to be.

And that’s wrong every way I look at it.

Tucking the phone away without answering, I walk down the hallway towards my room. My thoughts drift to Todd and his sister. She doesn’t seem like the moody, high maintenance type that Brianna is. Her concern for her brother is genuine, and she was pretty direct when we spoke. Without knowing much else about her except that I felt comfortable around her, I find myself anticipating the trip to diner again tomorrow with a smile.





Chapter Four: Claudia


At around eight, after my shift, Todd and I arrive home to the apartment I’m renting near the edge of town. Our belongings are meager. We usually only take what we can carry. The Goodwill store in town is well stocked, so every payday, I go down to buy something else. We have a sofa, an old television on a TV stand, small dining room table with two chairs, mismatched lamps, and a kitty condo for the cat. Each of us has a twin bed and dresser and a few other odds and ends. The apartment came with major kitchen appliances, and the building has a common laundry area in the basement.

We have everything we need and more. The apartment is cozy and well lit and on the third floor overlooking a large courtyard with huge maple trees in the last stages of shedding their purple leaves.

“You want your second dinner?” I ask Todd. In his current stage of growth, he eats twice as much as I do.

“Soup.” He crosses to his room and slings his backpack inside before going to see the cat like he does every day. “Hi, Snickers.”

The diner is generous – a real godsend. I take home a meal every night and eat two free meals a day on my ten-hour shifts. It cuts our expenses down, and I’m an expert at stretching my dollars at the grocery store. I make a huge pot of chili or stew every weekend, so Todd has something to snack on in the evenings.

I nuke Todd a bowl of chili then tuck my tips into a cookie jar in the cabinet beneath the sink. The cheerful snowman is filled with loose change and dollar bills. It’s my emergency fund, though this year, I’m hoping I can spend it on a Christmas present for Todd instead of travel money to get us away from here.

I change into old jeans and a sweatshirt before returning for Todd’s chili. He’s seated at the table with Snickers, the cat he’s had for over half his life.

“You thinking about karate?” he asks.

“Omigod!” I groan. “Why do you want to do it so bad?”

“Because I’m tired of running.”

The maturity in his response deflates my irritation. He’s growing up fast. I pull out the other chair and sit down, watching him eat. “I’m working on it,” I murmur, well aware of what that eventually will mean for us. “Why stop now? Why not in Florida where it’s warm all year round?” We spent most of our lives in various places in Florida or Texas. I’m not sure I’m ready for a New England winter. It’s two weeks before Thanksgiving, and I’m already too cold.

“Come on, Claudia. We should both know basic self defense anyway.”

“It’s not the karate I object to. It’s us being separated for a couple of hours,” I remind him quietly.

“But I’m tired of this.” He puts Snickers on the floor. “I’m tired of not being able to have a life or go out with friends or anything.”

“You don’t have any friends.”

“But if I did, I’d want to go out with them!”

I consider him. I know very well it’s fear that makes me keep a stranglehold on him. I had hoped this kind of discussion would wait for a few more years. Maybe until he was eighteen or something.

Totally unrealistic. I rub my face with a sigh.

“And … maybe I do have a friend,” he adds.

“Invite him over.”

“It’s a her.”

“You have a girlfriend?” I ask, surprised. I stare at him. My first instinct is to tell him he’s too young for a girlfriend, but I know that’s wrong. I went on dates when I was his age, usually with other kids our age. We’d go to the mall, the movies or restaurants.

“No. She’s just a friend.” Despite his denial, red is creeping up his neck.

“I thought I’d have to give you the pregnancy speech when you were sixteen or seventeen. I’m not ready now, but I can draw you pictures or something.”

He drops his head to his hands on the table melodramatically. “Why are you making this so hard?”

I laugh. Maybe I shouldn’t, but the older sister in me enjoys tormenting him a little bit while the motherly side of me seizes up at the thought of my sweet little brother growing up too fast.

“What’s her name?” I ask.

“Maya.”

I’m quiet. Two people have entered my life unexpectedly today, and I’m starting to panic at the thought of letting Todd go to be with either. Clamping down on the emotions, I do my best to look at the situation logically.

I wanted Todd to have a chance at normal. This is what that looks like: a hobby and a girlfriend.

It scares me.

But Todd is my world.

“Okay,” I murmur. “We’ll get you a phone, so you can go out with your girlfriend. You MUST stay in contact at all times. If you don’t answer, I’m coming for you, and if I catch you in some sort of compromising situation, I’ll never let you live it down.”