Chapter 16
ALEKS
Fuck.
I yank on sweats as we race into Ivy’s room. “Ivy!”
A little head pokes out of the closet. She has a stuffed animal in each hand. “Doggie!”
Harper collapses on the edge of the toddler bed. Her whole body trembles in relief. I’d join her if I wouldn’t crush the damn thing.
“My God, we need a better monitor,” she says in a shaky breath.
“Jesus. Tell me about it.” My heart’s still racing. Parenting’s gonna fucking kill me.
My phone buzzes with a text. I run a hand through my hair.
“You have to stop distracting me,” I whisper to Harper because I love to give her shit. “I missed four calls from Mikhail and two texts from Polina.”
She snorts. “Not on your life.”
Shaking my head, I walk to the other side of the room and call Mikhail while Harper listens to Ivy chatter on about what she found in her closet.
“Do you ever have your phone on anymore?”
“I called you right back. And excuse me but I believe when you first married Aria you were unreachable too. Give me a minute.”
“No. Answer your fucking phone when I call you or I’ll move her into a separate house.”
I shake my head. “You’ll stoop to that level just to keep me from winning?”
“You have no idea.”
“Did you just call to give me shit about not answering the phone?”
“No. I called to tell you that Aria had our baby early this morning.”
“Wow, you really couldn’t stand it, could you? Congrats! That’s awesome. Just one?”
He chuckles. “Just one.”
“So we’re even?”
“For now.”
We hang up and I turn to face Harper. My heart seizes in my chest at the sight of Ivy on her lap, flipping through a board book.
“We gotta get ready to go, Harper. Let’s get her dressed and go meet Polina downstairs. She said she’ll help the first week.”
“Bear,” Ivy says with wide eyes. She points to a picture of a fluffy little bear on the cover. Then she points her tiny finger at Harper. “Mama.”
Harper smiles and her eyes water. “That’s right, baby.” She looks up at me, her voice a little husky. “She’s always called me Mama. They were good about that. What was up with Mikhail?”
“Aria had her baby.”
She drops the book so quickly Ivy’s eyes widen. “What? And you didn’t tell me? Honestly, you men!”
“What? You hardly know them.”
“But they’re family now! And they had a baby!” She looks thoughtful. “No wonder you were so into me this morning.”
I roll my eyes at her. “I’ll remind you that you were the one that initiated.”
She waves me off. “Boy? Girl? How much did the baby weigh? What did they name him or her?”
Shit. I shrug. “I have no idea.”
She stares at me as if not comprehending. I guess those are things women ask when they find out there’s a new baby. “Listen, we have to go. On second thought, go get changed, Polina will come up and help me get her ready.”
She frowns.
“What is it?”
“I want to dress her. I don’t want to leave, Aleks.”
“We’ll come back soon, I promise. You can dress her if you’re quick about getting ready yourself.”
“I can skip washing my hair! I don’t need long.” She leaps out of bed and takes Ivy by the hand as if I just told her we were going to Disney World.
I don’t know if I’ll ever really understand women.
I stand with my arms crossed, just watching them. Harper opens the dresser Polina bought yesterday and picks out two little outfits. “Which one?” she says. “Pink or purple?”
Ivy points to the pink one and Harper nods. “Smart choice. Come here, and let’s get you ready to meet your auntie.”
After we’re dressed, we go downstairs to the kitchen. Polina’s practically pacing. “Oh my God, I thought you’d never come down! I’ve been dying to meet you, Ivy!”
She crouches down and waves to Ivy. “Hey there, sweetie. My name is Auntie Polina.”
“Elsa!” Ivy says, her eyes wide.
Elsa?
Harper and Polina burst out laughing.
“Someone wanna fill me in on the joke?” I mutter.
Harper grins. “Elsa’s a Disney princess with long, long blonde hair. She’s sort of iconic with her big blue eyes and blonde hair and blue dresses.”
Okay, that’s kinda cute. “Polina, Elsa, whatever, we’re starting to interview nannies today. I want them to go through a few rounds of questioning and background checks. Will you help?”
“Of course!” Polina holds out her hand and helps Ivy up to the table. “Would you like some breakfast?”
Ivy nods. Something in me loosens, but I can’t determine what it is. It’s cozy here in the little kitchen. Domestic, even. My heart surges in my chest knowing that we have the power to make this a better life.
“Do we have to leave?” Harper says, biting her lip. “She’s so sweet and I want to eat breakfast with her.”
“We do. I had everything set up for us and we have to get this done. I promise, we’ll spend plenty of time with her later. We’ll even go to one of those little stores at the mall and get a balloon or something.”
Harper’s lips twitch. “Aleks, the look of actual pain on your face when you said mall—”
Polina slices a banana into little coins and shakes her head. “I’m impressed, brother. Very impressed. But don’t forget you promised Mom we’d have lunch.”
“Do I ever forget anything?”
Polina thinks it over and finally shakes her head. “Definitely not.”
“Great,” Harper mutters. I tug a lock of her hair.
“Let’s go.”
In the dense, shadowed forest behind my house, the air is thick with the smell of damp earth, the carpet of pine needles and leaves muffling Harper’s quick footsteps.
Her whole presence seems like a contradiction, like a miracle pieced together — delicate in appearance but with an air of unspoken strength. She’s excited.
“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this,” she says, her eyes shining. She’s practically vibrating with excitement. “I found one of my father’s guns once, and it felt so amazing in my hand, but then he caught me and he beat the shit out of me.”
Beat the shit out of me.
I’ll remember that.
Not that Kolya didn’t beat our asses if we fucked around with any weapons, but that’s different.
“You must remember safety is everything when you’re using a gun,” I tell her while I look over our pistol range. The targets are a series of concentric circles painted on steel plates — simple, but useful. The same type Kolya used with us when we were younger.
“Okay, let’s hear the rules,” she says, her hands tucked behind her back.
“Are you mocking me?” I ask, all playfulness gone. She must take this seriously.
“Mocking you?” she says with wide eyes. “I hear and obey, Master.”
She is absolutely mocking me.
I give her a serious look. “This isn’t the time or place for fucking around, Harper. There are nonnegotiable rules about firearm safety.”
“Aleks, I’m hardly going to wave a gun around for fun or brush my hair with it,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Roll your eyes at me again, woman. Go ahead, I dare you.”
That gets her attention. Swallowing, her cheeks flush pink. “Okay, I’m paying attention.”
“Good.” My voice is firm, leaving no room for negotiating. This is serious shit. “First. Always, always act like your gun is loaded. I don’t care if you personally made sure there’s no ammunition in it at all, you must train yourself to treat every single fucking weapon as if it’s loaded. Got it?”
A curt nod. “Got it.”
“Second, when handling a firearm, for example, when loading or unloading it, always make sure you point it in a safe direction.”
Another nod.
“Third. Never, ever point a gun at anything you aren’t willing to destroy. It’s not something you use as a warning. When you shoot, you shoot to kill. Only experienced shooters can do anything less.”
“Yes. Understood.”
She’s the perfect model student, so far. Her sober nod seems to mirror my own seriousness.
“Fourth. Keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are on the target and you’re ready to shoot.
If you’re not careful, you could accidentally discharge a round.
It happens all the time, even to experienced shooters.
All it can take is a loss of focus for a second. Are you getting all of this, Harper?”
“All guns are loaded even when they’re not, point it in a safe direction, only point at what you want to obliterate, finger on the trigger when you’re going to shoot.” She nods. “Got it.”
I stifle a growl. “Finally, always be aware of what’s in front of, either side of, and especially behind a target. Depending on the type of round you’re using, bullets can travel well beyond the target. Always think one step ahead.”
“Makes sense. I won’t forget.” Her voice carries the weight of responsibility. I nod, softening a little as I step back so we can get ready to begin.
I slide the weighty handgun into her hand, expecting to guide her through this slowly.
It’s my custom 1911 in .45 ACP, the one my father gave to me on my eighteenth birthday.
“This gun is incredibly powerful. The bullet it fires is a larger caliber than what most people use in handguns, even those most police use. It’s designed to maim and kill.
The gun is going to kick back hard when you fire it so brace yourself for the recoil. ”
I expect her to hold it cautiously, like it’s an animal ready to bite. I expect she might shake a little, as she gets used to the weight of it and the responsibility of holding a gun. But that isn’t what happens at all.
When the gun hits her palm, her transformation is instantaneous.
The very air around her crackles and shifts as if the metal of the gun has a magnetic pull. The weapon seems to be an actual extension of her. Her stance shifts, and she seems to don an air of certainty. The slight widening of her eyes tells me she feels it, too, the sense of absolute rightness.
It’s as if she’s shedding a skin, revealing her true persona.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
Harper was born to hold a gun.
I take a step back.
I planned on framing her from behind to show her how to hold it, how to stand. I planned on reminding her to be careful.
I don’t say anything. She knows. Somehow, she just knows how to hold it correctly, how to align her sights.