Page 64 of The Breath Before Forever

Vera’s brow shot high. The most expression her brother’s one-sided conversation had gained from her since he had joined her on the rear patio made of grey stones. Surrounding an in-ground pool that wouldn’t be opened and filled until the end of the month—May came faster than she expected it to—the patio extended ten feet around the coping edge on all sides. With tall, thick green hedges partitioning off a section of the backyard to make it feel cozier, she found it just allowed her some quiet time.

She tossed a glance her brother’s way, thinking only usually.

Bouncing his knees, and tapping his palms to his thighs with a fast beat, Roman couldn’t sit still on his chair. Not even when Vera kept staring at him.

“What?” Roman asked when he noticed his older sister’s look.

“Which ones are the exhibitionists—Ma and Papa, or the neighbors?”

He barked a laugh. “You’ll figure it out.”

Lord.

Vera had only been half joking.

Roman, who had come to sit with her outside in the backyard without any explanation, gave a good, hard sniff as he leaned the chair back dangerously on two legs.

“The coke will kill you,” Vera said.

He rocked with the chair like his whole body was nodding in agreement with Vera’s warning, but the way he smirked a little and his jaw worked like it was chewing on words said he probably didn’t care.

His next words confirmed it.

“Yeah, maybe that’s what I’m going for,” Roman said.

Vera just rolled her eyes.

Even when it came to his substance abuse, her brother didn’t have the patience or give-a-damn to listen if someone wasn’t saying what he wanted to hear. Every human had their flaws; Roman rarely tried to hide his.

“And Ma does, by the way,” he tacked on at the end with extra attitude. “Think you’re depressed, I mean.”

His defensiveness about their mother said he was telling the truth about her concerns, but it was the least of Vera’s, honestly. She didn’t know how to break that news to Roman.

“It’s all I hear her talk about every night when she calls,” her brother added the longer Vera remained silent across the pool. “Which means she’s talked herself out with Papa, and now she’s moved to me. And no matter how many times I tell her that you’re a grown ass woman who can be as sad as she wants about whatever she wants—”

“She’s not wrong,” Vera interrupted before Roman could rant on further.

His bright blue gaze—the same as hers—narrowed.

Vera shrugged. “I am depressed. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

That should be simple enough for anyone to understand, even Roman, who on his best days, didn’t often think of those around him. Selfish to an extreme, her wild younger brother lived life on the edge constantly. That left little time or space for the thoughts and feelings of others. Not that she blamed him for being that way, really.

“Because you’re not in Russia?” he asked after a moment.

Vera sighed.

If only it was that easy ...

“Because I’m not in Russia,” she agreed, then adding just as quickly, “or because my husband calls once a week, and tells me exactly nothing. I mentioned earlier how my villa was ruined by a bomb, didn’t I? Years of life just ... gone.”

Every photo.

The plants.

Vera still felt like the bomb had happened so quickly, and because she had not yet been back to Noble Row, it was still surreal in her mind. Not entirely real. She couldn’t picture it; couldn’t wrap her mind around what she was told would now be her reality. How was this big part of her history just gone?

She knew it was.