They have another laugh at my expense as Misha says, “Why do you think you were named Sitka?”
“What?” I ask, not putting it together, probably because my brain is trying desperately to save me from understanding it. “Dad loves the forest,” I say, cringing a bit at how lame I sound.
“More like Dad loves chasing Mom through the forest,” he says while laughter rings around me.
“The rumor is that you were conceived against a Sitka Spruce,” Yuri says.
I glare at my brothers. “I may never forgive you two for telling me that. I could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that.” Grabbing my bike, I start to push it towards Misha’s truck. After a few feet, I look over my shoulder and yell, “That’s so fucking gross!”
I ignore the laughter and wait for my bike to be hauled up. Refusing to look over at them, I lean against the tailgate, debating the likelihood of what my brothers just said. My dad and mom do love to go for walks in the forest. They say it’s their special time together, a chance to catch up after a long day. They usually come back with my mom looking flushed and her hair a mess. She’s always laughed it off and said she was clumsy and always walking into low-hanging branches. Add in the fact that my dad has a reputation for being as unhinged as my brothers and it all starts to paint a very clear picture.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, knowing I’ll never look at a tree the same way again.
When my brothers eventually join me, they haul our bikes in and then start the drive back. They decide to stay at the cabin so they drop me off at the main house on their way. We get the bikes unloaded and before they drive off, Misha chucks me under the chin.
“Don’t be too grossed out. It’s only natural, Sitka. None of us want to think about Mom and Dad going at it, but at least they still love each other, yeah?”
“I guess,” I say, still not crazy about knowing the truth of things.
“Yeah,” Yuri says, joining in, and I can already tell I’m not going to like what he says next. “Apparently it runs in the family, little sis, so watch out and when you meet a guy, your first question should be whether or not they like to run. It’s kind of in your DNA that you’re going to enjoy being chased.”
Misha goes all oldest brother on us when he butts in and points a finger at me. “But your ass isn’t meeting anyone for a long time, and if some guy tries to chase you, I want to fucking hear about it. I’ll be the one chasing that fucker straight into the woods so I can gut him myself.”
Damien quickly pops into my head, but I shove that thought aside and say, “I have to meet someone eventually, Misha.” I look to Yuri for help, but I can tell by the look on his face that it’s a lost cause.
“Sorry, Sitka,” he says. “Eventually, sure, but right now you’re eighteen, and Misha and I know exactly what some little fuck will be thinking if he gets you alone in the woods. I’m in agreement that the bastard needs gutted.”
Before I can even try to get them to see reason, Misha lets out a sharp whistle and soon all three dogs come running out of the forest. They like to patrol the area, but they always come running when we call for them. Nyx bolts right to my side while her brothers aim for Misha and Yuri.
Yuri reaches down to pet Hex’s blue coat while Misha squats down so he can properly love on Ghost. His pale coat fits his name, even if he is more of a honey than a white. It’s still such a stark contrast to the other two and it always makes him look like an apparition when he comes out of the woods at night. My brothers may be violent psychopaths who are way overprotective of me, but they turn into baby-talking fools when they’re around their dogs.
I scratch behind Nyx’s ears until they pile back into the truck and give me a wave goodbye. Checking my watch, I make sure it’s not too late before heading down the path to my grandparents’ house. When my mom met my dad, my grandma was fighting cancer. My dad helped her get seen by the best oncologist in the city and paid for all her expenses. She’s been cancer free since before I was born, and she’s married to a retired member of the Bratva. They fell in love while she was going through treatments and have been together ever since.
My biological grandpa split when my mom was little, so Grandpa Boris is the only one I’ve ever known, which is fine by me since the original sounds like a real asshole. When I’m close enough to their cabin, I grin and speed up. They’re both sitting out on their swing, just like they do most nights, and as soon as they see me, they wave me over. Nyx gets there first, happily accepting all the butt scratches and head pats, but I’m a close second.
I hug my grandparents and then take a seat in one of the rocking chairs. I love their cabin. They added onto it after they got married, and my brothers and I used to sleep over all the time when we were little. In the mornings, our grandma would make us the best blueberry pancakes, and she crocheted me the prettiest blue and green blanket for my thirteenth birthday. I still have it on my bed and use it every night. It reminds me of the ocean and of her.
“Your mom said you had a fun weekend,” my grandma says. “How was the water?”
“Freezing,” I say, making Grandpa Boris laugh.
He still has a thick Russian accent when he says, “This is nothing. You should swim in Russia in the winter. Now that’s cold.”
“No thank you. I can’t even imagine how cold that would be,” my grandma says, smiling at my grandpa when he gives hera quick wink. They’re holding hands and rocking gently on the swing, and even though it’s sweet and I hope I’m lucky enough to have this one day, thanks to my brothers, I’m now also wondering if like everyone else in this family, they enjoy chasing each other naked through the woods.
I have to bite back the grimace I want to give and make a mental note to kick my brothers’ asses for this. Ignorance really is bliss, and I’d love to be ignorant as shit right now.
While Nyx sprawls out on the porch, I push aside all thoughts of our family’s perversions and visit with my grandparents. They tell me all about the new flower beds my grandpa is building and what my grandma plans on planting in them. The green thumb didn’t get passed down to me, but I still listen and ask questions. Just because I can’t grow them doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate them. We visit until I catch my grandma fighting a yawn, and then I stand and stretch my arms while Nyx slowly follows my lead.
“You’re coming to Aunt Nina’s for supper tomorrow, right?” I ask them.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” my grandpa says before giving me a hug.
“We’re excited to see Damien and Ev again,” my grandma says. “They’re sweet boys.”
“Yeah, they’re nice,” I say like we’re still talking about flowers in her garden—pretty things that I have no real attachment to. With Nyx at my side, I tell them both bye and then start the walk back to my parents’. It’s chilly so I pull my hood up and tuck my hands in the front pocket of my well-worn hoodie while slowing my pace and staring up at the sky. The trees block out most of the stars from here, but I catch quick glimpses of them through the limbs. I’ve always loved how peaceful it feels at night. I get the same feeling right before dawn, when everything still feels shrouded in darkness and fog, so quiet and still, even the sound of my own voice feels too loud in those moments. It makes mefeel small, and I love that. I love knowing there’s a great big universe out there and that I’m just a tiny smidgen in it. I’m not sure why that’s so comforting, but it is.
My parents are cuddled up on the couch watching a movie when Nyx and I walk in. We have a really nice media room, but more often than not, they choose to stay in the main living room. I think it’s because they like to make sure I’ve come in for the night. I don’t really have a curfew since I can’t leave the property on my own, but they still worry and I know neither one of them will go to bed unless they know where I’m at.
