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She pauses. “I guess.”

“And can we keep meeting up like this as long as there’s no pattern to it?”

Katya pushes her hair out of her face. “We’ll both have to be super careful.” She grins like an otter with a new toy.

I grab my phone off the table and turn it back on. “Ok. How does the third Tuesday of next month sound? Joey has a cabin, we could meet there.”

Her eyes light up and my stomach flips. Her lips crash into mine, and between hasty and rushed breaths she says, “Yes.”

It’s not much of a plan or a solid future, but for now, it’s enough.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Dimitri

A few days after Katya stormed back into and out of my life—for now—Uri slams the front door and storms over like only a pissed-off Russian man can. “What the fuck, dude?”

I raise an eyebrow. “‘Dude?’” It sounds as strange as Uri calling me “Bro.”

“He’s still alive!”

“Lots of people are still alive. I’m going to need you to be more specific.” I take a long sip of my coffee. Uri doesn’t get frazzled like this often, so this is a fun treat for me.

“I asked you for one favor, one time, because I was sick and didn’t want to do a transatlantic flight with a fucking head cold.”

Ah yes, the sniffles of doom. Oh, the gears start to click. A few years ago, Waverly—who I now fully understand and see why she’s so important to Uri—called him, sobbing. Apparently, some guy broke her heart. Seeing Waverly bust Uncle Andrey’s nose on the tarmac when we arrived in the U.S., I understand how hard it must be to break her heart at all. Uri asked me to finish this guy, make him choke on Waverly’s tears.

“Yeah, I didn’t kill him.”

“Obviously. He’s opening a tattoo shop around the fucking corner.”

I roll my sleeve, gazing at the orange and red octopus tentacles. “Should I get another one?”

“Fuck you, man. I want an answer.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. He looked so sad. Not like some careless monster who hurt your cousin, but like he was broken-hearted too. I thought maybe the pain was enough punishment.” I point to my arms. “And I got a really cool tattoo, so win-win.” I raise my eyebrow. “Wait, did you think he gave me a tattoo, then I killed him so I didn’t have to pay?”

Uri throws his hands up in defeat. “I don’t know how your fucking brain works.”

Oh, but I know how his works. “So how was dinner with your dad?”

He grumbles as he leans his elbows on the counter, pushing his hands through his hair. “Awkward, but fine, I guess. We talked about sports and shit—basketball mostly. Thank God Waverly was there. At least she acted like a buffer for us. Mom’s no help since she moved back in.” He sighs. “Mom asked if I’m seeing anyone. And saying no was the most honest answer I could give. Between healing and trying to understand where I fucking belong, having a mouth on my dick is the last thing on my mind.”

I shrug. “You could come to the club. We could get someone to watch Ian.”

“Bro, that club is like S-level sex, and I’m basic at best right now. I need to work up to that.”

I frown. “Don’t ever ‘bro’ me again. Fucking Americans.” I take out my phone. “Isn’t there an app you can use? ‘Gays for Beginners’ or something?”

“That’s not a thing.” He glances up at the ceiling and taps his chin. “Or at least, I don’t think it is.” He pulls out his phone and types something. A few seconds later, there’s a chime. “Shit, there is. Or, at least according to Alana, she has a friend working on one. It’s in the alpha phase.”

“Alpha?”

“Um, it has a different meaning in the computer world. It means beginning development.”

I nod. “And Alana has friends other than us?”