Page 87 of Walking Red Flag

Truthfully, it’d taken Milena explaining things to me to understand.

She wasn’t hung up on anything anymore.

She’d figured out how to navigate life after the unthinkable had happened to her, and she wanted to be able to live. And we—Chevy, Copper, Shasha, Dima, and I—hadn’t been giving them the freedom they needed to live their lives.

We’d been holding on so tightly with both hands that we hadn’t realized that they’d overcome and persevered.

But now, I was giving that freedom to Keely, and I would work hard to try to convince my brothers—and Milena’s—to do the same.

“Oh, hey, darlin’,” Granddad said. “How are you?”

Milena grinned at me and said, “I’m doing really good. Trying out my new coffee machine today. Would you like some coffee?”

“Oh, I’d love some dear.” He paused. “Hey, can you tell my grandson I might need some help for a bit?”

I screwed in the shelf, then fastened it to the other wall with more screws, before I said, “What did you do, Granddad?”

There was a pause and then, “Oh, nothing, nothing,” he declared. “I just need you here to clear up a few things.”

“Where is here?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m at Sunny’s,” he said. “The place just down the road from your wife’s coffee shop.”

I looked at Milena and raised a brow.

She held up her finger and said, “Granddad, we’ll be right there.”

I sighed and walked out with Milena to the bike.

“Come on,” I said. “I get in your car, and I’m gonna get it disgusting.”

“But what if your granddad needs a ride back here?” she asked.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” I pointed out.

She hopped onto the back of my bike, and I handed her the helmet that I’d purchased just for her only a day ago.

She pulled it onto her head, and I adjusted my own helmet, before we took off.

Granddad was right. It was only a bit down the road.

Milena pointed over my shoulder at the small diner, and I pulled into the parking lot, unsurprised to find a crowd.

“What is going on?” Milena asked.

“I need you to go inside,” I said. “Stand in the windows so I can see you.”

She bit her lip but didn’t argue, which I was happy for.

She didn’t go all the way inside, though. Instead, she went into the small vestibule area that had another set of doors that would lead you inside.

She stayed in that small glass room and stared, but kept the door cracked so she could hear what was happening.

I walked up to the crowd of people, unsurprised to find my granddad and his cronies—three older men that were also Vietnam vets—at his side.

“You the ‘dolphin trainer’?” one man asked.

I eyed his cut, seeing it said ‘Crazy Motherfuckers’ on it.

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