He offers me a mug, and I take it wordlessly.
I've had a list of things I wanted to tell him, if I ever had the chance. I can't think of one of them right now.
In fact, I can't think of anything to say. I give him a sidelong glance. He's always so calm and put together. Is he anywhere near as nervous as I am?
Nope. Not Iceman.
Frustrated, I take a sip of cocoa and glance at his. He hasn't drunk any, and he's gripping it tight enough for his knuckles to be white. I realize he's a little uneasy, though I'm not sure how to take it.
"So … how's life?" I ask finally, needing something to fill the silence.
He meets my gaze, brow furrowed, like I've asked him what his shoe size is instead of the more general question.
I laugh, a little giddily.
"We were never good at small talk," he replies. Setting the cocoa by his feet, he reaches into his pocket. "I brought you something."
I can't imagine what he might have. He holds out his closed fist, and I set down my cocoa and hold out my hands.
He drops dog tags into my palm. I lean forward, towards the fire, to see the name stamped on them better.
Mikael N. Khavalov
My breath catches. I read his name again.
"I though you should have them," Sawyer says softly. "Riley found them out on a mission recently."
I didn't think it was possible for Sawyer to pull these emotions from me once more. I no longer feel anger but sorrow and an intense yearning to see my brother again. These are his. Something he touched, something he kept with him at all times.
Something Sawyer knew would mean the world to me and brought them to me from all the way around the world.
"Thank you." I manage not to start crying. I can't believe how sweet the gift is or how thoughtful Sawyer was to hang onto them.
Leaning back, I wrap my hands around them. I wish they were big enough to hug. It takes me a moment to recover.
"Let me guess - you came back to bring them to me." I try to lighten the mood.
"Something like that."
I sneak a look at him and find him gazing at me. Sawyer is so damn hard to read. I want to strangle him right now, because my emotions are completely at his mercy while he's playing it cool.
"You don't approve of all my shoes, do you?" I don't know where the words come from. I think I need to pick a fight. I do better when I'm mad at him.