Page 99 of Fire & Ice

“Yes, Sir,” Tripp replied meekly, and internally, Leander found himself gloating. He quickly sobered up, though, when he remembered what, exactly, he was supposed to be explaining.

Swiftly, Leander wracked his brain for a starting point, trying to recall what he might’ve revealed to Tripp in the past and how many years he could skip over while still making sense. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that my mother died when I was young,” he began carefully. “Not as young as you and Beau experienced, I was fourteen. Although, if I had to venture a guess, you likely spent more time with your mother in those four short years than I did with mine in triple that. Certainly, from what I’ve heard, your mother at least acted the part.”

Leander paused, but Tripp didn’t interrupt or make any jokes, just sat quietly and waited patiently for the story to continue.

“My mother was…unkind. More interested in ‘fixing’ whatever she perceived was wrong with me than finding out who I was, what I wanted out of life. As soon as I reached an age where there existed a boarding school accepting children that young, I was shipped off. Even when I was home, holidays and such, she was frequently traveling. You know my twin, Lawrence—Chloe’s father—he and our older brother Lorenzo received similar treatment, except Lorenzo—I believe he goes by ‘Loki’ these days—was a difficult child.

“Expelled from school after school, to the point where he wasn’t welcome home again, which is why we’re not as close as we might be these days. We simply have very few shared memories and common experiences, save for the occasional holiday and Mother’s funeral, plus he’s several years our senior. Lawrence, at least—well, being kept together went a long way. But he would also like to pretend that our shared past doesn’t exist. Understandable, considering that most would describe what we went through as ‘abuse,’ both at that ‘Christian’ school and at home.

“It's difficult for him to be around me, even so many years later.” Leander could tell that Tripp had some sort of reaction to the casual way he referred to his mother’s passing, but he wasn’t going to apologize or make excuses for it. This was how he felt, and if Leander was going to be made to talk about his family, it was going to be on his terms. Parched from speaking, Leander reached out and stole Tripp’s styrofoam water cup, sipping intently and then holding it in his lap, fiddling with the lid.

“My father left us. He was an extremely high-ranking military man.Extremelyhigh,” Leander emphasized, with a meaningful look at Tripp. “His relationship with our mother happened to be a second attempt at having a family, and he was much older than she was. Apparently, his experiment failed. Hedidn’t enjoy raising children any more than he did the first time around, because I wasn’t even out of diapers when he accepted a position serving the incoming Presidential administration and failed to invite any of us along.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tripp said softly, but beyond that, he stayed quiet. Of note, Tripp did leave his hand conspicuously palm-up on the bed, accessible and in easy reach should Leander have wanted to take it, but he didn’t push the issue. It was a greatly appreciated gesture, even if Leander didn’t take advantage—not yet, anyway. He was rooted in a particular state of mind at that moment, and touching wasn’t something he felt especially warm and fuzzy about. He rarely did when reflecting on or recounting his difficult upbringing.

“You probably know him as Robert Grigori.”

That definitely got Tripp’s attention, and he dragged a hand over his mouth before pointing a finger in Leander’s direction. “Hold up,” he said, in obvious disbelief. “Your old man is General Grigori? The dude everyone called ‘God’ because of how much power he had over not one, buttwodifferent presidents? You don’t look anything like him.”

“He was SecDef for the better part of a decade, yes,” Leander confirmed. “And…thank you, I suppose.”

“Oh, definitely. Name should’ve been a clue, I guess, but we always called him—”

“God, I know. Everyone did.”

“Yeah, so, God—uh, Robert? Whatever. He always kind of reminded me of a weirdly attractive squirrel.” As Tripp’s eyes went guiltily wide, Leander squinted and tilted his head to the side, suspicious. “And I see now how that was definitely not the right thing to say.”

Rolling his eyes, Leander shifted in his chair and opened his mouth to continue, but Tripp cut him off again.

“You both have really nice eyes,” he offered. “Super…uh, blue.” Closing said eyes in vexation, Leander held up a silencing hand. “Right,” Tripp added. “I’m done.”

“The rest of the story is simple,” Leander continued. “My emotionally and physically cruel motheralsohad an extremely high-paying job. She didn’t need the child support my father sent, but certainly wasn’t going to beget the satisfaction of allowing him to stop. Every penny went into an account that was meant to collectively fund each of our way through advanced higher education—medicine or law, preferably.

“But then she died, and control of that account went to me, along with all of her other accounts and assets, which were not paltry. Lorenzo—er,Loki,right—wasn’t interested in any of it. He had our mother’s knack for business, he’s a globetrotter, and these days, a very wealthy man in his own right. Or so I’ve heard.

“And Lawrence—” Leander just shook his head. “There was a time when he would accept money to help with Chloe, but nothing else. We’ve talked about the way he turned towards religion to cope. I never understood that draw, not after...everything. Either way, today, as a pastor, he still has no interest in wealth.Chloewill never want for anything, not that I’m allowed to tell her so. I believe that’s part of why Lawrence didn’t fight her becoming a firefighter as much as he might have. At least the work is honest.

“Anyway, as you know, I opted out of a traditional four-year university to attend EMT and then paramedic school at the local community college. The end result, as it applies here, was an already significant amount of cash doing nothing except sitting in the bank earning more money.” Leander stoppedtalking abruptly, and it took Tripp a full minute to apparently realize that the story was over.

“Wait, that’s it? So you’ve got, what? Thousands of dollars saved up? What about when it runs out?”

“Millions,” Leander corrected flatly, picking at the cuticle of one thumb. “It’s not going to run out. I live modestly. Also, I make a mediocre living as a paramedic. I could almost definitely afford to move into the storage space in the basement of my apartment building, should the need arise.”

That made Tripp laugh and then immediately wince and clutch at his ribs. Without asking for permission, Leander shot a glance at the clock before pressing the nurse’s call button and requesting Tripp’s pain medication over the intercom.

“Anyway,” he said, flopping back into his chair. “The way I see things, it’s not my money, either. I didn’t earn it. In fact, this is probably a good time to disclose that Marley has full access to all of my accounts. She directs much of the overflow towards various progressive and social causes that would infuriate Robert Grigori if he ever discovered what his hard-earned cash was funding.”

“I ain’t no charity case,” Tripp said gruffly, but he was smiling. “Though, now I understand why you’re always picking up our bar tab.”

Leander nodded in agreement. “The money allows me to do what I love without worry. The least I can do is assist my partner in doing the same.”

Before Tripp had a chance to reply, the nurse bustled in, taking the opportunity to assess Tripp from head to toe before administering his pain medication through the IV. In truth, Leander thought it was opportune timing. No doubt, this was a hard concept for Tripp to accept—the idea ofanyoneprovidingfor him, as if he was incapable of doing so for himself. Not thatLeanderthought anything of the sort—but that was just Tripp’s nature.

With any luck, the morphine coursing through his veins would create some sort of Pavlovian effect, a positive feeling when Tripp eventually thought back on the conversation as a whole. Leander could only hope.

The nurse lingered by the computer attached to the step-down unit’s wall to complete her charting, clicking rhythmically away at the keyboard. By the time she finished, Tripp’s eyelids were looking heavy, and he was visibly fighting sleep.

“This isn’t over,” he slurred, while Leander busied himself pulling his chair closer to Tripp’s beside and holding his hand while he drifted off.

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