2. Luka
Chapter 2
Luka
“ D id you remember to ask for extra pickles?”
I dig around in the bag and hand him his sandwich. “Of course I did. I remember what happened last time I forgot.”
My Uncle Vitaly raises a brow at me, hands frozen with his burger almost to his lips. “And what was that?” he asks, daring me to say that he’d whined like a goddamn baby for a full twenty minutes, bemoaning his fucked-up hamburger and how the lack of extra pickles made it taste like shit.
“You weren’t happy,” I say, trying like hell to keep a straight face.
“The pickle-to-hamburger ratio is a thing of art, Luka. They never add enough pickles on their own, and it throws everything off balance. Did I ever tell you I once ordered a hamburger and they gave me two pickles?”
He looks appalled at the memory, the same way he looks every time he tells this story.
“Two,” he says again in utter disbelief. “What the hell am I supposed to do with two goddamn pickles?”
“Well, this one’s loaded up,” I remind him, trying to save him from the downward spiral of improper hamburger making that will only put him in a sour mood and make me have to listen to it.
He takes a large bite and smiles at me, clearly pleased with the hamburger-to-pickle ratio on this one. We’re parked outside of a rundown building in a truly nasty part of the city while we wait for the others to arrive. Tonight’s mission is an easy one. Find the fucker who’s been selling pills in our territory and take him out. No one makes a profit on these streets but us. In all fairness, he was warned to stop. He decided he’d rather die, so that’s on him.
“That girl at the club seemed to like you.”
I groan at my uncle’s not-so-subtle attempt to hook my ass up and say, “I hadn’t noticed,” before taking another bite of my own burger, grateful that he’d waited in the car and has no idea that I’d also seen her in the diner. The truth is I’d definitely noticed. The second I’d seen her she’d had my full attention, and then when that asshole had bumped into her and knocked her on the ground, I’d made sure it was my hand that helped her up. I still don’t know why in the hell I’d done that. I’d been replaying the moment over and over in my mind when I’d walked into the diner and seen her sitting all by herself at the end of the counter. Something about her draws me in, and I can’t figure it out.
I don’t like not being able to figure things out.
My life is a structured one that hinges on one thing and one thing only: Family. If you’re not a part of my family, then you’re not on my radar. When my dad was young, he and his four best friends decided to ditch the shit families they’d been born into and form their own. Brothers in blood, in life, and in death . Those words are the lifeblood of our Bratva. They’ve been instilled in us since birth, and we all live by them. They started the Melnikov Bratva back in Moscow, and then moved it to America. Now it’s the most powerful Bratva in the city, and my cousins and I are slowly being handed the reins. I’m the oldest, even if it is only by less than a year, and I take that shit seriously. My dad has drilled it into my head since birth that family is everything and should always come first.
That responsibility is exactly why I need to forget about the beautiful woman who’d looked fucking adorable scarfing down a bacon double cheeseburger while her cheeks blushed a pretty pink and her feet kicked softly against the barstool. Women are a distraction I’ve always resisted. In high school, they’d thrown themselves at me and my cousins, but I hadn’t wanted any of them. Our family’s secrets need to be kept, and I won’t let my guard down for anyone. It doesn’t matter if she has my exact taste in food, the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, or if I’m curious about why she’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt on one of the hottest days of the year.
It doesn’t fucking matter.
“You’re almost twenty,” my uncle reminds me, and when I shoot him a look, he laughs and pops another fry in his mouth. “Your dad did the same damn thing. Took on all the responsibility for the rest of us, always worrying and watching out for us.” I get a few seconds of blessed silence while he finishes off his fries, but then he ruins it by saying, “You can’t spend your life alone, Luka.”
He laughs at what he just said and shakes his head in bewilderment. “I honestly thought I’d have you thoroughly corrupted by now, and here I am giving you the you know, monogamy can be a really great thing speech. Jesus Christ, what has your aunt done to me?”
I meet his eyes. “How old were you when you married Aunt Katya? And didn’t I hear something about it being an arranged marriage, one that you absolutely did not want at the time?”
He gives me a smirk and eats the cherry from his shake. “Now you’re just being a shit.”
I laugh and shove my empty wrappers in the bag
“Your Aunt Katya is the best damn thing that ever happened to me. I had no idea how empty my life was before she came into it and threw everything on its ass, so, yeah, monogamy can be really fucking cool, and I’m not embarrassed to say it. Sometimes you don’t know what you want until it’s forced into your lap, and then you wonder how you ever survived without it.”
I watch my uncle, the grin on his face when he talks about his wife and the way his damn eyes seem to light up at the mere thought of her, and I have to remind myself that this is the same uncle I’ve seen kill a man and then open up a bag of fruit snacks while his hands are still bloody. Just like my dad and the rest of my uncles, he’s ruthless when he needs to be, but a giant puddle of emotions when it comes to his wife and kids. It’s an odd environment to be raised in, but it works for us.
“Why was it an arranged marriage?”
I’ve asked him this before, and he always side-steps the question. They can all be very tight-lipped about certain things, and anything involving his arranged marriage or the story behind my Aunt Alina’s two-year disappearance before I was born are not readily discussed. He’s about to blow off my question, but he’s saved by the flash of headlights behind us.
My uncle gives me a wink. “Let’s go get this fucker.”
I check my gun while he drains the last of his shake, and when we step out, my dad and cousins are already on the sidewalk waiting. Maxim nudges my shoulder and gives me a grin that I easily return. He may be a gifted pianist, but he’s taken to a life of crime just as easily as the rest of us. It’s in our blood. There was never a chance we’d turn out any other way. My Uncle Vitaly walks over and squeezes his son’s shoulder. Valentin is quieter than his dad. Svetlana, his twin, is the louder one. She’s like her dad in many ways, but when it comes to work, Val is just like his dad, both of them relentless and fully dedicated to whatever needs to be done.
“Everything go okay at the club?”
I look over at my dad. I’m a little taller than him, but we share the same eyes, the same straight nose, and the same intense stare and stubborn determination to take on the weight of the world.
“Yeah, it went fine. Dominic said everything’s been quiet on his side. No one’s been selling over there.”
Dominic Alessi and his mafia have been working with our Bratva since before I was born. They’ve always been on good terms, and when he married my cousin Natalya last year, it just solidified the bond our families already shared. My Uncle Lev was less than thrilled, considering he and Dominic are almost the same age, but he’s slowly coming around, especially after Isabella’s birth. He’s completely smitten with his granddaughter.
“Good,” my dad says, scanning the empty street we’re on. “Our men have eyes on the seller. He’s on the corner, one street over.”
“Let’s go have some fun,” my Uncle Vitaly says, squeezing Val’s shoulder and then leading the way.
My dad waits for me to follow, taking the rear so he can cover our backs. We’re silent as we step into the alley on our right, guns already out and ready. It’s dark, but enough streetlights are working on the two roads running parallel to the alley for us to see by. We own this area, but that doesn’t mean everyone who lives here is on our side. It just means they have to answer to us if they do something stupid like sell drugs where they’re not supposed to or if they do something really stupid like try and take over our territory.
We stop at the edge of the alley while Max peers around the brick building we’re leaning against.
“Four men on the corner,” he whispers, watching them for a few minutes to make sure no one else arrives. When nothing changes he turns back to face us.
“Timofey and the others are watching from the other side,” my Uncle Vitaly says, reading the text that’s just come in. “They say it’s clear over there. They’re just seeing four men as well.”
Max checks his phone. “My dad said the closest CCTV camera is two streets over, but he’s already looping their footage just in case.”
My Uncle Danil is a computer genius, just like Max’s younger brother, Nikita, and he can break into just about anywhere. I swear if any of us ever did get arrested for a crime, all the evidence would be wiped away before they could even put us in a cell.
“Perfect.” Uncle Vitaly looks at my dad and gives him a wicked grin, the two of them sharing something that goes way beyond this moment, most likely some memory from when they were younger. They may not be brothers by blood, but the bond my dad and uncles share goes way beyond shared DNA. “Let’s go get these little assholes off our streets.”
Val smiles at his dad, who cups the back of his head and pulls him in for a quick hug before we put some distance between us, coming at them from all angles. Timofey and the three men with him are already covering the back, so the four idiots in front of us have nowhere to escape to when they finally look up and see us coming.
“Stay close,” my dad whispers, and I try not to let it annoy me. I know he worries and he’s just being cautious, but I’ve been doing this for a while now, hell, I was raised from birth to do this, and I wish he’d stop worrying so damn much.
“Now why the hell weren’t we invited to the party?”
I look over at the sound of my Uncle Vitaly’s voice. His gun is raised and pointed at the blond guy in the middle, the one responsible for this late-night visit, while the rest of us keep our guns trained on the three men who are slowly backing away, hoping like hell they’ll be able to scurry into the dark and disappear. Timofey kills that dream as soon as he steps out from the shadows with Pavel and Viktor.
“I mean,” my uncle continues, “since these are our streets, it’s kind of rude to not send us an invitation. Don’t you think?”
The guy doesn’t say anything, just looks between us, weighing his options, even though he has to know he doesn’t have any.
“You’re the one they call Ace, right?” my dad asks him, while Max gives a soft laugh at the ridiculous nickname.
Ace looks over at Max, looking very much like he wants to say something but having enough brain cells to know being a smartass isn’t the wisest choice for him to make right now.
“You were warned to not sell here, Ace .” I draw out his nickname, smiling when the guy’s cheeks turn red enough for me to see it beneath the dim streetlamp.
When his hand moves, my instinct is to take a step forward, so I’m partially blocking Val, and my dad’s instinct is to do the same thing but with me. He raises a brow at me while Uncle Vitaly says, “Please tell me you’re not that fucking stupid. I mean, we all know you’re not the brightest bulb if you’re going around calling yourself Ace, but surely you’re not that goddamn stupid. ”
“Move your fucking hand,” my dad tells him.
When Ace slowly raises his hands, the others follow his lead and do the same. The one on the right is so pissed he can barely stand still. He glares at Ace and hisses, “You stupid motherfucker. They warned you to stop selling?”
Uncle Vitaly laughs. “Uh-oh, someone’s been keeping secrets.” He looks at Ace’s men and shakes his head. “You can’t trust criminals. They’ll always let you down in the end.”
“And what are you guys?” the guy in the middle asks, running his eyes over the guns and the tattooed hands that are holding them.
“A family,” my dad says.
“A criminal family,” Ace says.
“Still a family, you little fucker,” my uncle says.
“I can’t believe you went against the Melnikovs.” The guy on the right is still pissed and trying to wrap his head around the fact that his supplier just risked his life without so much as a second thought.
“Shut the fuck up, Brian,” Ace yells over his shoulder before turning his attention back to us. “All right, I messed up. I admit it. I was wrong, and I should’ve taken your warning seriously.”
My Uncle Vitaly laughs. “Wow. I feel like I just stepped into a fucking after-school special. Have you really learned your lesson, Ace? Are you a changed man now?” He turns to look at my dad. “What do you think? Can we trust Ace to not sell drugs in our territory?”
My dad doesn’t even have to think about it. “No. We didn’t have to warn you, but we did. You chose to ignore it, which sounds a lot like a giant fuck you to me and my family.”
“We really don’t like to be told to fuck off,” my Uncle Vitaly adds. “It’s disrespectful.”
“Jesus fuck,” one of the guys in the back whimpers. He’s obviously the smartest of the lot, because the others still think there’s a chance they’re getting out of this alive.
My dad nods at Timofey, who quickly shoots the guy on the right while Max takes out the guy in the middle and Val makes a quick end of the guy on the left .
“Fuck!” Ace yells, watching the men fall behind him, already dead before they hit the ground.
Pissed, my dad steps in front of Ace, using his gun to tap his chest hard enough to get his attention. Ace’s wide eyes turn back to my dad, who then uses his gun to point to his fallen men.
“Those deaths are on you. You were their leader, and you chose to bring them here tonight, knowing you were ignoring our warning. We may have pulled the trigger, but they died because of you. A good leader cares about his men, and a great one will die with them.”
My dad looks at him and gives a harsh laugh. “You’re far from a great leader, but we’ll let you die with them anyway.” He turns his back on Ace and meets my eyes. “Finish him, Son.”
I nod and raise my gun, shooting him in the head before Ace can even think to beg for his life. The first time I killed a man, it didn’t feel real. I pulled the trigger and watched the man’s head jerk back before he’d fallen, collapsing on the muddy ground. I’d watched the blood pour out of him, soaking the ground and forming a puddle beneath his head. It had been so fast, and I’d replayed the moment over and over in my head that night, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel guilt about it. He was a threat to my family, so he had to die. The next kill was even easier. I didn’t stand around to watch his blood form a puddle. I’d just shot him and walked away. Execution-style kills were easy. Torturing for information was harder to get used to, but humans are resilient creatures, and we can adapt to all sorts of things, especially when the men being tortured are low-life scum who would be more than happy to rape and kill your sisters and mothers. It’s not like we’re out here hurting innocent people. Everyone we come up against deserves it. There are no innocent victims, just really bad men whose deaths make the world a slightly safer place.
I may be drawing a morally grey line, but I’m okay with it. I know what I’m capable of and what I’m not, and at the end of the day, I sleep just fine.
My dad squeezes my shoulder, meeting my eyes again to make sure I’m okay. Whatever he sees must convince him I’m fine, because he smiles and brings his hand to the back of my neck.
“Nicely done, Son.” He looks back to make sure Pavel and Viktor are going through the bodies to take whatever drugs they may have and also to grab the phones or anything else that could potentially lead the cops to us. Satisfied, he gives Timofey a wave and then motions for the rest of us to head back the way we came.
Max walks beside me, and I swear you’d never know he just committed murder. “You wanna go grab something to eat?”
I shake my head and shove my gun in the waistband of my jeans. “Uncle Vitaly and I ate on our way over, and I need to help Damien with something.”
“We can swing through a drive-thru,” Uncle Vitaly says. “I could go for another shake.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen my Uncle Vitaly actually reach the point of being too full. You’d never know it to look at him because the man is still a solid wall of muscle, but I swear he could happily exist on nothing but grease and sugar. If it weren’t for my Aunt Katya insisting he eat whatever vegetables she puts in front of him, he probably would’ve had a heart attack years ago.
“Sounds good to me,” Max tells him.
“Yeah, I’m pretty hungry, too,” Val says. He nudges my shoulder when we get back to the cars. “Text me tomorrow if you want to hang out.”
“Sure thing,” I tell him, getting in the car with my dad while he gets in the car with his dad and Max. My cousins are like my brothers and sisters. We all grew up together, and we all live just a few minutes away from one another. I can’t imagine my life without every single one of them.
“What’s going on with Damien?” my dad asks once we’re back on the main road and in bumper-to-bumper traffic.
“I’m helping him with his English paper tonight.”
“Does he know that?”
“Not yet.”
My dad gives a soft laugh, but I see the small smile, and I know he approves. Instead of asking for more information, he surprises me by switching topics completely.
“Your Uncle Vitaly said there’s a new waitress working the top floor at Dominic’s club.”
“Jesus,” I groan. “He gossips more than any girl I’ve ever met.”
My dad laughs again. “He always has. So, who’s the girl?”
“How the hell should I know, and why the hell is everyone asking me about her?”
I see my dad’s shoulder shrug out of the corner of my eye. “Vitaly said he caught a vibe.”
“Uncle Vitaly didn’t catch shit. He’s imagining things in his old age.”
“I’ll be sure and tell him you said that. He’ll be thrilled to hear it.”
I can’t help but laugh. I swear I can hear him calling me a little fucker already. He always says it with such love, though. Little fucker and little shit are terms of endearment when they come from one of my uncles.
“It wouldn’t be a bad thing for you to date, you know?”
I look over at my dad, and when he stops at a red light, he turns to face me. “Don’t give me that look. I’m being serious.”
“You know why I’m not dating anyone.”
“Why is that?”
“Before Mom, did you ever let anyone get close to you?”
He scratches at his jaw before finally admitting, “No.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, that’s annoying,” he mutters when he knows I’ve got him and then puts his focus back on the road when the light turns green. “It’s not the same thing, though,” he tries to argue. “Things are safer now. It’s okay for you to go out and have a normal life.”
“I just killed a man less than fifteen minutes ago, Dad.”
“Don’t be a smartass, Luka. You can have as normal of a life as possible,” he corrects. “Better? ”
“I just don’t see the point in endangering someone or having a quick fling with someone I don’t give a shit about.”
He’s quiet for the few remaining minutes that it takes to get to our building, and when he’s pulling into his reserved spot in the underground garage, he cuts the engine and turns to me.
“I know what it’s like to live your life alone, to cut yourself off and put a wall up between you and everyone else. My brothers were the only people I let get close to me, and that’s only because I knew they could handle it, that they could protect themselves and that we’d always have each other’s backs, but no one else got close to me.”
He sighs and looks back out the window. “I don’t regret my choices, because I’m glad your mom is the only woman I ever let get close to me, but once I met her,” he gives a soft laugh and shakes his head, “there was no way in hell I could keep her away. She dismantled every damn brick in the wall I’d spent my life building, just fucking demolished it.”
“Mom can be stubborn,” I admit.
“Fuck yes she can be.” He says it with a big smile and then reaches over to ruffle my hair like I’m still seven years old. “All I’m saying is the right woman will come along, and there won’t be a damn thing you can do to stop yourself from falling hard when it happens. Don’t run from it, Luka. Embrace it with both fucking hands and never let go.”
I nod, even though I know I’ll never put myself in the position to fall in the first place. Lara’s face pops in my head, and I immediately push it away. She’s just a girl, one I’ll never see again. With my brick wall firmly in place, I walk with my dad to the private elevator that takes us to the penthouse. As soon as the doors open, I can smell the cupcakes my mom’s baked.
“Smells good, solnishka ,” my dad says, walking into the kitchen and wrapping her in a big hug.
“They’re apple cinnamon, and they just came out of the oven, so you have to wait for them to cool until I can ice them.”
“I wasn’t talking about the cupcakes,” my dad says, making her laugh before he cuts it off with a kiss.
“Thanks, Mom,” I tell her, grabbing two of the still-warm cupcakes. She knows I prefer them right out of the oven without icing.
She playfully swats my dad away so she can come give me a hug. Ever since I hit a growth spurt when I was twelve, I’ve been taller than my mom, and now I tower over her. It doesn’t stop her from squeezing me in a big bear hug. My family is affectionate and loud and nosy as hell, and I love them like crazy.
“I’m glad it went okay,” she whispers, giving me one more squeeze before pulling back so she can study my face. “You all right?”
I know my mom worries and wishes I could have a normal, safe life, but she fell in love with my dad, and this is the life she got in exchange for that. I can tell by the way she looks at him that she would’t have it any other way, but she still worries.
“I’m fine, Mom. I promise.”
She cups my face and pulls me down so she can kiss my cheek. “Tell your brother the rest of these will be iced in a few minutes.”
I stand back up and smile down at her. “I will.”
I walk through the large penthouse that my dad and uncles used to live in together and head downstairs to Damien’s room. He prefers the room my Uncle Matvey used to have, and I prefer the upstairs room that was once my Uncle Lev’s. It works for us, giving us both tons of privacy and plenty of room when our cousins come over.
My little brother’s door is shut, so I stop outside it and give a soft knock. I know better than to just barge into a sixteen-year-old boy’s room.
“Damien, you still awake?”
“Yeah, I’m up.”
As soon as I hear him, I open the door and walk in, tossing him one of the un-iced cupcakes. “Mom said the others will be iced soon.”
“Cool,” he mumbles around the big bite he just took.
I grab his laptop and crash on the leather chair in the corner. “So what’s the assignment?”
Damien’s brown eyes mirror our mom’s, just like mine are a copy of our dad’s, but there’s no mistaking he’s my brother. Everything is the same except the eye color and the fact that he’s even more stubborn than I am. He’s always struggled in school, but it wasn’t until around fifth grade that he was officially diagnosed with dyslexia. He hates it, and still tries like hell to hide it from everyone. Most of his classmates don’t even know he has it. They just think he hates school and has a massive chip on his shoulder. Our parents spoke with the principal, and my dad was pretty persuasive. In the end, they decided the best course of action was to let my brother take his tests orally and that he wasn’t ever to be singled out or called on in class. Since it’s a private school that my family has donated a shit ton of money to, they were more than happy to agree to my dad’s demands.
I do my brother’s homework, though. That’s the part no one knows about but us.
“You don’t have to do this,” he reminds me for what has to be the millionth time.
“I love English lit,” I tell him. “I can’t help myself. So, what’s the assignment?”
He sighs and grabs his textbook and the paperback that’s lying next to it, the one that he most definitely has not even attempted to read. Trying to get the letters to make sense drives him crazy and leaves him pissed off and with a raging headache. Our method works better.
“We’re reading Jane Eyre , and we’re supposed to answer these questions about it.”
I stifle the groan I want to give and instead force a smile and reach for the books. “My favorite fucking English novel of all time.”
He tries to fight a smile and fails. He looks so much younger when he smiles, but he doesn’t hand them out too often. He’s not what I would call a carefree kind of guy. He goes to the same private school I graduated from, and several of our cousins are still in school with him, so when the bullying started because some jackass caught on to the fact that Damien was struggling to read, that shit was quickly nipped in the bud. We all made it clear that picking on my little brother was not something anyone was going to do and then walk away unscathed. That’s the good thing about private schools. Most of the kids that go to them are pampered and spoiled and used to everyone bowing down to them. They aren’t used to having their asses handed to them.
Max, Val, and I kept it in check when we were there, but even though I’m not there to make sure he’s okay with my own eyes, I know that Sasha, my Uncle Lev’s son, will stop anyone who comes at Damien. Everyone at that school fears the Melnikov name, but Sasha brings it to a whole new level. You’d have to be out of your fucking mind to go up against him.
While I start answering questions about the novel, I toss the remote to Damien. “See if you can find the movie streaming somewhere. It won’t be identical to the novel, but it’s better than nothing. No way can I read this one to you in a night. Way too fucking long.”
I smile at him to let him know I’m not pissed. When he was working on shorter novels, I could just read them to him, but that’s not going to happen with this one. I once stayed up all night reading him a collection of Edgar Allan Poe stories so he’d be ready for class the next day. It’s one of my favorite memories. The letters on the page may not make sense to Damien, but once he hears something, he rarely forgets it. He’s really fucking smart, but people see the learning disability and assume the worst. I know it bothers him, even though he tries like hell to hide it.
When I’m finished with his questions, I read them aloud so he’ll know what he’s turning in to his teacher, and then we fill a plate with cupcakes and I make some popcorn and grab a couple of drinks before we settle in for a night of Jane Eyre .
We’re about an hour into what has to be the longest fucking movie ever when the door opens and my dad peeks in. As soon as he sees us sprawled on the bed, empty cupcake wrappers balled up on the plate next to the half-empty bowl of popcorn and the gothic romance playing on Damien’s large TV screen, he starts laughing, snaps a photo, and hollers for our mom.
“ Solnishka ! You’re never going to believe what our sons are doing.”
“Nice, Dad,” I tell him, while Damien groans and our mom bursts in. The surprised look on her face when she takes everything in makes it clear she’d been expecting a lot of things, but a Charlotte Bront? movie night isn’t one of them.
“Wow,” she whispers, and then her shocked expression turns into a genuine smile when she glances at the screen. “I love this movie!”
She hops on the giant beanbag and then motions for my dad. “Come on, babe. You don’t want to miss this one. They’re just getting to the good bits.”
My dad shoots us both a look. “I may never forgive you two for this.”
We all laugh as my dad settles into the beanbag chair and pulls our mom into his lap, accepting his fate with as much grace as he can muster. He reaches for the bowl of popcorn, resigning himself to the movie.
“You better not ever tell your Uncle Vitaly about this. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
My response is to take a quick photo of my parents, making sure to get the TV screen in the photo so my uncle can see the period costumes. My dad’s phone dings a few seconds later, and when he reads the message, he looks over at me and raises a brow, shaking his head in mock disappointment while he holds his phone up so I can see the one-word text my uncle sent him.
Pussy.
My brother and I laugh.
“You know he’s going to put that in the group chat,” my dad says, but he’s not mad. He knows my uncles would be doing the same damn thing he’s doing. My dad tosses his phone aside and wraps his arms around my mom, who’s taken over the bowl of popcorn. We settle in and finish the movie, my dad and I not even grumbling once about the romantic movie because this is for my brother, and we’ll do anything for family, no matter what.
By the time the credits start, my mom’s asleep and Damien is barely keeping his eyes open. Picking our mom up, our dad tells us goodnight and then carries her back to their room while I stretch and gather up the dirty dishes .
“Thanks, Luka,” Damien says, running a hand through his dark hair. “You don’t have to keep doing this. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
“Better things than watching romances with my family?” I laugh and smack his shoulder. “What the hell is better than that?”
He gives me a small grin. “I’ll remind you that you said that one day.”
“Go for it. It’ll never not be true.” I turn to leave before saying over my shoulder, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that math assignment. We can tackle that one tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I tried to work on it earlier and just gave myself a headache.” He sighs in frustration. “The numbers keep fucking changing and they don’t make any sense. I’m never going to pass my math class. I probably won’t even be able to graduate.” He roughly scrubs a hand through his hair. “It makes me feel like a fucking idiot.”
“Hey,” I tell him, setting the dishes aside and coming to stand in front of him. “Look at me, Damien.”
I wait until he looks up at me. I’m a few inches taller, but he’s already pushing six-one and still growing. Grasping his shoulders, I meet his eyes and say, “You are not stupid, and I better not ever hear you say that shit again. Dyslexia has nothing to do with intelligence, and I’d argue that it just makes you a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of us because you have to find ways to work around it. You think someone’s smarter than you because they can read faster than you? That’s bullshit, and you know it. You remember every damn thing you see and hear, and that’s why you ace every single one of your oral exams.”
Damien rolls his eyes at me while the corner of his mouth lifts up in a small grin. “You don’t need to give me a pep talk.”
“It’s not a pep talk. It’s the goddamn truth, and you better not ever forget it.”
“Okay, okay.” He gives a soft laugh when I pull him in for a hug and ruffle his hair. I don’t care how much it annoys him or how big he’s getting. He’s still my kid brother, and that’s never going to fucking change .
When I’m sure he’s okay, I drop off the dishes in the kitchen and then head upstairs. I pass the room that Uncle Lev had converted into a home gym when they all lived here and step into the room that I’d claimed as mine when Damien and I decided we’d rather have a bit of space. After a quick shower I collapse on my bed, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep, but I’m haunted by the image of a blue-eyed girl who’d looked so damn lonely while she ate her supper and kicked her black sneaker to a beat that only she could hear.