Stared at me.
Then his mouth curved into a slow grin.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “Is it Lethal?”
I took a long swallow at the same time.
And promptly choked.
I coughed hard, nearly knocking the glass over as I sucked in air. “What the hell.” I croaked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
No one had called me that in more than twenty years. I looked up properly this time.
The grin widened.
“Mikhail?” I said, disbelief cutting through the haze in my head.
He stepped back from the bar, arms opening wide. “In the flesh.”
I stood before I fully realized I was moving. He came around the counter in two long strides and wrapped me in a hug so forceful my feet nearly left the ground.
“Jesus,” I laughed, half-winded. “Put me down.”
He did, still grinning like he’d just found something he thought was gone for good.
Mikhail.
My chest tightened unexpectedly. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been eleven years old, all elbows and knees, shorter than everyone else. He’d vanished halfway through the school year without warning. One day he was there, the next his house was empty.
I’d been wrecked.
Now he towered over me, easily the tallest man in the bar. I’d have put him well over six-three. Broad shoulders. Different face. Same eyes.
“You look like hell,” he said cheerfully.
“You look like you swallowed a basketball player,” not my best comeback.
He laughed loud enough to turn a few heads.
A man at a nearby table stood up then, beer in hand, and walked over. I recognized him instantly.
Ben.
We’d gone to school together. Spent enough time in the same orbit to know each other well, even if we’d never been close.
He stopped short when he saw me. “Ethan?”
“Hey,” I said.
“Well, damn,” Ben said. “Didn’t expect to see you.”
Mikhail clapped a hand on each of our shoulders. “Perfect timing. Drinks are on the house.”
He slid two fresh beers toward us once we were seated together.
“To old ghosts,” he said.
“Lethal?” Ben asked, frowning. “What’s that about?”
