Damien
Present Day
“Come on, Ev. You have to take a break at some point. Why not now?”
I raise a brow at my cousin, but his head is still buried in one of his massive law books that looks boring as hell. He can feel me staring at him, and after a few more minutes, he sighs and puts the book down before finally turning his face to mine. He slips off the dark reading glasses he started wearing and sighs.
“I don’t know, Damien. Maybe I should stay here and get ahead in my classes,” he says.
I laugh and shake my head at him. “No fucking way. You’re already having to wear glasses. These books are killing you. You need a break, so let’s get the hell out of here for a while. We can go to Oregon, spend time on the beach, visit with Max and Talia and her family. Plus, Uncle Vitaly is in matchmaker mode, so the faster we leave, the better.”
I can tell he’s considering it, so I add, “Niki said he and Sav might come join us in a few weeks if we go.”
Instead of a yes, I get, “I can’t promise I won’t have to leave early.”
Holding up my hands, I say, “I swear I won’t chain you to the bed. You can leave at any time. You need a break, though, Ev. What you’re doing to yourself is insane. You need to be able to let loose and not worry about hiding.”
Ev’s studying to be a lawyer, which means he has to hide he’s a Melnikov. He hates it. I hate it. We all hate it, but it’s the only way. In Oregon, though, he can be himself without fear of anyone seeing him. Talia married Niki’s older brother Max, and her family runs the Medvedev Bratva. They have a huge stretch of private land along the coast, plenty of space for Ev to remain completely anonymous. It’s the perfect plan, and I wasn’t kidding about our Uncle Vitaly. He’s on a mission to see us all married, and Ev and I are the last two single kids.
Ev stacks the heavy textbook on top of the others before sitting back in his chair. “This trip wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Medvedev daughter, would it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him, following his lead and leaning back, except instead of keeping my feet on the floor like him, I put them on his coffee table because I know it’ll irritate him. I hide my smile when I see his brow start to furrow as he takes in the black boots that are so very close to his stack of precious books.
“It’s not going to work,” he says.
“What’s not going to work?”
He finally pulls his eyes away from my boots and to my face. “You trying to distract me by putting your goddamn shoes next to my books is not going to make me forget about the massive crush you have on Sitka.”
I scowl, and he grins.
“I don’t have a massive crush. What are we, ten?”
His grin grows into a smile. “You sure you want me to come along. I might end up being a third wheel, and that’ll just be embarrassing for me. Maybe we should come up with a codeword. You know, something you can say so I’ll know to leave so you can make your move. She speaks Russian, so I can’t just switch languages. That makes things difficult.”
Pretending to be deep in thought, he eventually says, “What about Pop-Tart?” After a soft laugh, he adds, “Yeah, I think that’ll work.”
“Pop-Tart? You expect me to just throw that out mid-conversation and make it sound natural?”
“Sure, why not?”
There are a million reasons why this is a shit plan, but when I stay silent, he says, “Perfect. So, when you want to make your move, just say Pop-Tart, and then I’ll make an excuse to leave.”
“This is ridiculous and unnecessary, and I won’t be saying it, so you can forget we ever had this conversation.”
He looks way too pleased with himself when he taps the side of his head and says, “It’s already locked in. I’ll never forget it. When the mood strikes, I’ll be ready. Just wait for me to leave though, yeah? It’s bad enough being a third wheel. I don’t want to add spectator to the mix. I’m not into voyeurism.”
“I’m going now,” I tell him, but before I move my feet, I nudge his stack of books with the toe of my boot, smirking when I see his eyes widen ever so slightly. He tries to hide his annoyance, but I know my cousin too well for that. He’s like a brother to me, and he and his sister are the only cousins actually related to me by blood, so when I nudge the stack again and see his lips tighten into a flat line, I laugh and stand up.
“I’m gonna text Bran to let him know we’re coming. Be ready to go in two days, okay?”
He’s already reaching for his textbook and sliding his reading glasses back on, but he takes the time to look up at me and say, “Sure thing, Pop-Tart.”
“Fucker,” I mutter while he laughs.
I let myself out and as soon as I’m in the elevator, I send a voice message to Bran. He’s Talia’s brother, and the two of us quickly became friends after meeting. I’ve been learning ASL so we can communicate more easily, and for some reason, the language just clicks for me, far better than reading ever did. I send off the message letting him know we’ll be there in two days, and when he responds with a long written text, I hold my phone up and listen as it’s read to me.
He’s deaf, and it takes me an hour to read a simple paragraph. It’s a match made in fucking heaven.
