I don’t have time to sit up before my sister’s footsteps cut through the hallway with the kind of determination that belongs to women who grew up in the same family I did and survived it by learning how to bulldoze obstacles.
"Kat," I call out, voice rough with sleep I didn’t actually get. "What are you doing here?"
The bedroom door swings open, and Katerina steps inside as if she owns the place, which she does because she’s my sister, and she has never once cared about boundaries when she decides they are inconvenient.
"I came to check on you," she says simply, and then she strides toward the windows and yanks the curtains open.
Light floods the room so abruptly, I swear it scorches my eyeballs.
"Jesus—" I mutter, squinting hard and lifting an arm to block the sun. "I’m sure I didn’t ask you to do that."
"No," she replied, unbothered. "But you were supposed to hit the weights with Scottie last night, and you backed out, and then this morning you were supposed to go running with Slade and Wolf, and neither of them heard back from you."
I blink at her. "It’s our day off."
"You don’t believe in days off," she says with a perfectly calm expression. "Please try a more convincing excuse. You’re getting lazy with your excuses, and that’s embarrassing to me."
I dropped my arm and glared at her through the brightness. "I’m sorry to disappoint you."
She turns, scanning my nightstand like she’s cataloging evidence. Her gaze lands on the empty glass next to my phone, and she makes a sound in the back of her throat that I recognize as the kind of disapproval she usually reserves for men who think "hydration" is optional.
She picks up the glass and walks out.
I hear her in the bathroom, water running. The clink of glass against the sink. The kind of efficiency she’s always had, the kind that makes you realize she could absolutely run a country if she ever got bored with ballet and marriage and Seattle society.
She returns a moment later and presses the refilled glass into my hand as if this is a medical intervention, not a sibling visit.
"Drink," she ordered.
I take it because arguing would take more energy than I have.
"So," I say, forcing myself to sit up, legs swinging over the side of the bed. "Why is Penelope calling you? Isn’t that what Scottie is for?"
Katerina’s mouth curves, sharp and amused. "Oh, trust me. She called Scottie first. Then she called Slade. Then she called Wolf."
I raised a brow.
"And when none of them wanted to come check on you because they’re all terrified of your moods, guess who got assigned the job?" She points to herself. "Me."
I take a sip of water and let it sit in my mouth for a second before swallowing because my throat feels dry, like I’ve been breathing through it too hard for too many days.
"You’re being dramatic," I say.
"I’m being accurate," she replies. "You have ignored half the team. You skipped training. You skipped your run. You have been avoiding people for days, Luka."
"I haven’t been avoiding," I say automatically.
Katerina just stares at me like she’s waiting for me to finish lying.
I exhale slowly. "Fine. I’ve been… busy."
"With what," she asks, tone flat, "staring at your ceiling?"
That hits closer than I want it to.
I take another sip of water to give myself something to do with my hands.
Katerina folds her arms. "I’m leaving for New York tonight," she says, and now her voice shifts into something more serious. "I have rehearsals and meetings for the ballet fundraiser, and I need to know that you’re okay before I go."
