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Not that it makes me feel any better. “Do I get a say in this?” I ask in a tiny voice.

“No,” they reply in unison.

Good to know.

Chapter Sixteen

Adrian

I can give my brother credit for one thing: He picked a beautiful area to settle in. Now that it’s late morning, the sun is shining, and I have a clear view of what’s around us, I can appreciate the wide-open space. Tree-covered mountains rise in the distance. The land dips and flows, and through the pines to my east, I catch glimpses of a stream cutting through the property.

“Ever fish that stream?” I ask, jerking my chin in that direction. We stand on the front porch, waiting for June. Theo spent the past couple of hours setting up training exercises.

“Never did like fishing all that much.” He’s still being short with me, giving only as much information as is strictly necessary. Can he still be this butthurt?

“So why did you drag me out practically in the middle of the night when we were kids to fish?” I ask. The memory of those early mornings still stands out fresh and sharp. Stumbling out of the house in the dark. Sitting in absolute stillness in the boat, floating in the middle of the lake, trying to stay awake.

His brow furrows thoughtfully as he stares out toward the stream in question. “Continuity, I guess,” he eventually concludes. “Something he used to do with us.”

“You can say his name. He was our dad.”

“No shit.” Using two fingers, he whistles sharply. “Let’s move! We have a lot to cover and not much time.”

So much for catching up. I guess we aren’t here to rehash the past. There’s a very real threat looming, and we need to prepare as much as we can.

“Coming!” June has the nerve to sound irked, though after a moment’s reflection I can’t find it in me to blame her for that. It’s very easy to stand back and announce she’ll learn to defend herself with me. I have no doubt it’s another story from her perspective. She must be nervous as hell.

So I tell myself, before the front door swings open and the strains of a familiar song fill the air.

I should know better than to expect anything else from her by now. She comes jogging out of the house, bouncing on the balls of her feet, shadowboxing while “Eye of the Tiger” blares on her phone. “I’m ready!” she shouts, throwing a series of quick jabs that would hurt absolutely no one.

“June,” I groan.

Her head whips around so fast, the buns on either side of her head shake. “Yo! Adrian!” Her laughter fills the air. “God, why didn’t I think about that before?” With her fists in the air, she turns in a circle, still jogging in place while the song blares.

“Turn it off.” Theo is unamused, which is putting it mildly, folding his arms over his chest. “We’re not here to play.”

“Oh, come on! I’m trying to get into the headspace.”

“And I will run your phone over if you don’t turn the music off right now.” I’m already regretting letting her have one of my burner phones to use.

She comes to a stop, her arms falling to her sides. “You two are lame,” she grumbles before pulling the phone from her pocket and turning the music off. “I swear, I’ve had more fun at the dentist.”

“This isn’t supposed to be fun,” he reminds her sourly while I watch. He thinks it will be possible to train her? She’s all his, as far as I’m concerned. He steps off the porch, stopping in the gravel where I parked last night. “Now. We’re going to start with the basics. Do you have any experience with hand-to-hand combat?”

“Sure.” She descends the steps slowly, shrugging. “I always try to sneak in a little hand-to-hand combat between lunch and sitting down with my laptop to work for the afternoon. Of course.”

I sense his patience is running painfully short, so I clear my throat. “Enough with the smart-ass jokes.”

“I’m clueless.” She throws her arms into the air and lets them drop, sighing heavily. “That’s the answer. I have no experience with anything. Except for research when I’m writing,” she adds.

“Oh, sure. That will be very helpful.” Theo shoots me a look like he’s searching for help, but he’s barking up the wrong tree. None of this would be happening if he would get over himself and step up like I need him to.

“Okay. We’ll start from the beginning. Make a fist.” Surprisingly, that, she is able to do. Maybe her research is paying off. “Good. Now, when you’re throwing a punch, I need you to imagine you’re punching your way through something. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Not really,” she admits.

“I would happily demonstrate,” I offer.