Page 41 of The Breath Before Forever

That quip lifted Vaslav’s brows high.

“Oh, to be that young and stupid again,” Vaslav murmured.

Kiril seemed okay with it, though.

“You’ll make the weekly trips from here on out,” Vaslav explained. “Todays the only day you’re not waiting at the gate for someone to come down and meet you—do you hear me?”

A crinkle turned Kiril’s nose upward. “Is the weed good, at least?”

Out of all the things the teenager could ask or say, that was the point he wanted to get clarified. Vaslav sighed heavily, his wary gaze never leaving Kiril as he ran through the many ways he wanted to teach the kid how to mind and behave.

But honestly?

None of it would do Kiril any good. Full of youth, still wild, and currently free. Undoubtedly, he made good money running for Igor and handling his tasks. Which probably fed into his late-night lifestyle and whatever else he did to keep himself distracted from being bored. See, that’s when kids like Kiril, not entirely grown but parentless nonetheless, thought too much. About their past and pains. Everything.

At the moment, Vaslav bet Kiril was living the dream. The whole world sat in his hands, and he could do anything with it ... if he wanted. What he did, however, was another matter.

“You tell me,” Vaslav settled on saying in regards to the quality of the cannabis. “You’re the one with the connection, pup.”

Kiril smirked, and pulled both hands from his parka’s pockets to produce what had been hiding in the left side. “Yeah, the weed’s good.”

The tightly rolled bag of weed looked just the same as every previous package Igor had dropped off after making the trip to Dubna. Right down to the red sticker strip that wrapped the middle of the roll to keep the cannabis nice and fresh.

Kiril started up the steps with the package in his hand already outstretched to Vaslav who didn’t plan to move from where he stood under the safety of the alcove. Not while the wind was blustery and colder than a polar bear’s asshole, anyway. He snatched the baggie from a laughing Kiril once the kid was close enough to do so, and then Vaslav pointed back down at the running car with exhaust fumes clinging to the air.

“You better have good winter tires on that damn thing,” he told Kiril.

Over his shoulder, the boy waved a hand, indifferent. “Yeah, yeah. All studded.”

Vaslav sighed harder than ever.

He shouldn’t care.

His biggest irritation with Kiril was that he did—so much so that he wondered how much the kid would make of his life and future if Vaslav just sat him down and spilled what he knew about being a young man like Kiril with the world at his fingertips, and danger luring him in. For some reason, his urge to spill those secrets, some that had shaped him more than others, with a kid that Vaslav knew still had a lot of learning and growing yet to do before it would make a real difference, irked him. He wasn’t used to people who were easy to like.

“Hannah will be out shortly,” Vaslav said, heading for the warmth waiting for him behind the front door. “She was just packing up as I let her know you were coming up the drive.”

“You were watching for me?”

Vaslav’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around to face Kiril when he muttered, “I watch for everybody.”

The kid wasn’t special in that regard.

Vaslav yanked open the door, willing to let those be his parting words for Kiril. The frustratingly cocky fool had plans of his own to say goodbye, apparently, quipping, “See ya next week, boss.”

Vaslav let the door slam shut at that comment. He didn’t ease up on the fucking swing when it closed just to make the point on how he felt crystal clear. He needed to pretend like he didn’t hear Kiril’s muffled laughter on the other side of the door.

Fucking kid.

Frankly, he had better things to do, which included soon having his wife alone. Once her little friend went home. After he rolled a blunt as thick as his thumb and smoked until he was numb, his day and evening could only go up from there.

At the back of the house, Marrow’s constant, sharp bark, alerting to their guest he had yet to see because he was stuck in the rear porch attached to the den yet again, quieted at Vaslav’s booming shout.

“Hannah! Your ride’s here!”

*

Vaslav’s plans to spend the rest of his day and evening didn’t quite go as he intended. His own fault, really. He’d left the small tray he used to keep his cannabis supplies all in one spot in his den, and decided to roll the blunt downstairs instead of carrying the whole kit up to the bathroom and risking spilling it if he had a fucking episode.