He steps forward so his bulk takes up the entire door frame. “Sydney might appear tough Viking, but underneath her armor is a big heart. You broke it once; I won’t let you break it again.”
He takes a step inside and closes the door. Before it can shut, I put my hand in the door frame.
“But I don’t know what I’ve done. Just let me talk to her.”
Nate shakes his head. “Just leave, Viking. It’s what you’re good at.”
I release my hand, and the door clicks shut. Panic grips me, and my hands shake. I don’t know what has spooked Sydney. Maybe she’s realized I’ll never give a life like this, but how will I know if I can’t talk to her?
Gathering a handful of pebbles from the gravel drive, I take a step backward until I can see the turret windows.
I throw a pebble, and it makes a loud plunk as it hits glass.
The next one is louder, and if I have to break one of Nate’s windows to see her I damn well will.
I throw another pebble, then another before the curtain pulls back and Sydney’s angry face appears at the glass. She pulls the window open.
“Go away, Chris.”
Her eyebrows draw together, and her eyes flash with anger. It’s like the last few weeks never happened.
“What’s wrong, Syd? What did I do?”
“I know about the job. I know you’re leaving.”
I stare up at her, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. “What job?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t try and deny it. Your transport leaves next Monday. I’ll work from home until then so I don’t have to see you. Just go.”
She must mean the Middle Eastern gig that Paulie’s convinced I’m going to say yes to. But I haven’t said yes.
“I’m not taking the job.”
She shakes her head. “Unbelievable. Still lying to me. I took the call, Chris. I know you’re going. Now just go.”
The window slams shut and the curtain tugs closed and settles into stillness.
I grab my phone and scroll through the missed calls. There’s an unknown international number from this morning, and it says I spoke to them for almost a minute.
“Fuck.”
“It’s not what you think,” I call out.
But the window stays closed and the curtains stay drawn.
13
VIKING
Ipull the club van up to the curb outside the address that Rio and Marcus gave me for their group home. The front door slams open, and Rio jogs down the steps followed by Marcus. Rio has cut his hair short so it no longer falls over his eyes, and they’re both wearing collared shirts. Rio’s hangs baggy on his thin shoulders, and Marcus’s is too tight.
My lips curl up in a smile. They’ve tried.
I unlock the passenger door for them, and they both slide in.
It’s a short drive to the nearest army recruitment center in Hope, and the boys mostly sit in nervous silence.
I pull up outside the gray building, and we get out of the van. Posters of boot camp line the walls and the boys jostle each other, making jokes to hide their nervousness.
