I’m stronger than I look, I know. And Spence stumbles back when I shove him.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Spence doesn’t sound sorry, though.
“I should get back to the party,” I say, and start to walk away.
“Wait. Hold up.” In a flash, he cuts me off. “We’re just talking.”
“No. That was called kissing.”
“Grace, I —”
“Why?” Whatever Spence was expecting me to say, it wasn’t this. “Why did you do that?”
“Why did I kiss you?” He raises an eyebrow and sounds like he wants to laugh.
“Is it Take Pity on Your Friend’s Kid Sister Day or something?”
“No.” Spence runs a hand through his too-short hair. “The fact that you are Blake’s kid sister is the one reason I shouldn’t be kissing you.”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. You’re cute and nice and funny and I thought …”
He thought I was normal.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I should answer, but I’m too tired of this place, this boy, this night. I want my bed and my mother’s room. I want to go back to the demons I already know how to handle, so I spin and start across the clearing, back toward the trees and the beach and the party.
“Grace, wait up,” he says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean —”
Didn’t mean to kiss me? Didn’t mean to hurt my feelings? To incur Jamie’s wrath?
I will never know how Spence meant to finish that sentence, though, because in that moment there is a movement in the shadows near the trees. For a second, I think it is my unreliable mind playing tricks on me, another ghost from my past returning to haunt the present.
Even when the figure yells, “Leave her alone,” I don’t let myself believe he’s really here.
It’s not until Spence turns, too, and looks at the shadow, that I allow myself to say, “Alexei?”
He’s not supposed to be here, but even in my shock I don’t say that. He’s supposed to be in Russia, called home with his father for reasons no one ever explained. He’s supposed to be far, far away from me.
Alexei is supposed to be safe.
It’s what I want for him. But the emotion that floods my veins is enough to say that what I want for me is something completely different.
“Hey, Gracie.”
There is tension in the look on Alexei’s face, in the sound of his voice, pulsing like the beating of the waves or the pounding of the music I can barely hear.
“Who’s your friend?” he asks, unblinking, his gaze firmly glued to Spence.
“Oh, this is John Spencer. Spence is a friend of Jamie’s — they just got here from West Point. Spence, this is Alexei. He’s —”
“The Russian,” Spence says, and for the first time I realize that it’s like I’ve wandered between a lion and a tiger.
“Alexei is Jamie’s oldest friend,” I say, as much for my benefit as for Spence’s. It’s a fact I’ve let myself forget. But my brother, I have to remember, is back now.
“What are you doing here with her?” Alexei asks the other boy.
“Jamie asked me to come find Gracie, make sure she was okay out here. She wandered off.”
“She does that,” Alexei says flatly.
But Spence isn’t swayed. “Thanks for your concern, comrade, but the lady and I can take care of ourselves.”
“Lady?” Alexei yells. “She is sixteen. She is a child.”
“Um … no,” I say, even though, technically, I know he’s right. But my childhood ended years ago. I will never consider myself a child again. “I was perfectly content before either one of you got here.”
“Stay out of this, Gracie,” the two of them say in unison, their accents blending almost in harmony, so I throw my hands in the air.
“I give up.” I whirl, heading for the trees and the beach and the sea. I’ll swim home if I have to.
But Alexei’s not going to let me go so easily. He falls into step beside me.
“Come on, Gracie,” he orders, his accent heavier than I remember it. “I’m taking you home.”
I can’t take it. I face him down.
“Maybe I don’t want to go home! Maybe I don’t want you to take me anywhere!”
“Gracie, I —”
“What are you doing here, Alexei?”
Spence is behind us, lurking and listening, but I don’t care.
“I heard Lila was throwing a party. I knew you would likely be here.”
“I mean why are you here? In Adria. I thought your dad got transferred.”
Alexei shrugs. “We are back.”
“I can see that.”
“My father …” Alexei starts, then trails off, risking a glance at Spence before lowering his voice. “My father is to be the new ambassador. There are to be … changes.”
“Oh.”
For a moment, I think Alexei wants to say something else — do something else. But instead he takes my hand, gentler now.
“I should get you home. Or at least back to your brother.”
“I can do that.” It’s Spence’s voice that slices through the moment. “She’s not your responsibility.”