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Maksim pales, and I hold my ground while the last of my patience drains away. I’m young, and I’m confused about a great many things, but I know exactly what I will not stand for.

“If either of you keeps this up,” I say, “I will choose neither of you.”

Neither man moves.

I let the silence sit there until it is heavy enough to feel. “I will take Milo and this baby, and I will go live my own quiet life somewhere neither of you can buy your way into. And you will both stand here and watch me leave.”

30

DELANEY

“I’m coming with you,” Maksim says brusquely, one hand planted firm on the car door so no one can close it.

His tone is as serious as a man posturing over territory on a map.

“Who told you we were going?” I ask, my eyes flicking to him.

“Milo did,” he says.

Milo ducks his head and studies his lace-less shoes with sudden fascination, the traitor. “Family activities are supposed to include the whole family,” Milo mumbles at his sneakers.

The excuse is so transparent that I nearly laugh out loud. Milo has appointed himself the referee of this whole slow, territorial war between the two brothers, and he takes the job more seriously than either of them takes their own campaign.

Lev sits in the driver’s seat, moving more carefully than he used to, one side of his chest still guarded where the bullet went in. He has finally accepted that his body will not heal on command no matter how he orders it to.

“There’s no room,” Lev says, his voice clipped.

Maksim points at the two empty seats in the back, his grin slow.

“Those are for equipment,” Lev counters.

“You are afraid,” Maksim accuses. “Afraid I will make her laugh in the seat behind you and you will not be able to stand it.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Lev grumbles. “I’m afraid of the chaos you bring with you everywhere. The last time you were in a car with Milo, he came home with a slushie the size of his head and didn’t sleep until two.”

“Either Maksim gets in this car,” I say, already reaching back and unclicking Milo’s seatbelt, “or I take Milo and go by myself and leave the two of you here to take each other out over seats.”

Both men shut their mouths at once, caught off guard.

It has been three days since the argument in Lev’s office, and the fair competition ended there in an uneasy truce, without a real resolution after my warning about choosing neither of them. Both of them have been waiting for me to speak first, so the whole matter simply faded into a quiet, watchful rivalry, until today and this rafting trip finally forced it back into the open.

Maksim climbs into the back, and Milo scoots over to make room for him, and Lev restarts the engine. I watch his fingers straining on the wheel until the knuckles go pale, and I understand it now for what it is, a man swallowing the urge to seize control and forcing his hand, with rock-steady will, to stay open instead.

“You promised you would not decide things for me,” I remind him.

“I didn’t decide anything,” he says breezily, the morning light catching the silver flecks in his hair.

“You decided the seats were for equipment,” I tease.

“They will not object,” he says, all business.

“I object,” I say.

He goes still, and then he nods once. “Understood,” he says, and he doesn’t end it with a flat command the way the old Lev would have.

Maksim snorts at his brother’s domesticated obedience. “Look at that,” he says with a jeering laugh. “Such a good dog for your owner.”

“Get out if you dislike it so much,” Lev offers.