He's regained the muscle mass he lost while in the coma for three weeks and managed to put on more weight. He works out every day like he's going to return to the war that killed our brother and nearly cost Petr his life, too.
Over my dead body. I'm the youngest in the family, but you'd think I was the mother. Probably because I took over the role of taking care of my thickheaded, stupid older brothers after our mother died. I was nine, and they were fourteen, old enough to be in trouble every weekend.
"Kitty-Khav, I'm a trained killer. I can take care of myself," he reminds me and takes the meds, only to put them back on the tray. His blue eyes sparkle with mischief, the way they always have, though there's a shadow in them that wasn't there before Mikael's death.
The death of our brother haunts us both.
He stands, moving away from the hospital bed as if he's not wearing a fake leg that looks like it could collapse at any minute.
"You shouldn't be going to the retreat at all, Petr," I tell him, not for the first time. "What if you trip in the forest or something?"
He ignores me and puts on a knit cap. I'm not sure what his obsession with knit caps is lately, but he wears one every time he leaves the hospital.
"Petr, you have to be careful." I'm worried about him, have been since I sat by him every day he was in a coma. I never left his side, and I've been a wrench in his spokes since then, knowing the doctors can't influence my stubborn brother the way I can.
"I love you, sis," he says with a wink. "You can throw as many shoes as you want at me, but I'm going."
Pursing my lips, I'm about to put my foot down and remind him exactly what the doctor said, when there's a knock at the door to his room.
"This isn't over," I warn him.
I'm hoping it's the nurse he's been eyeballing, the only other person who might be able to convince him to wait until the end of the week, after his final round of tests, before he tries to break in the new leg doing something stupid.
Opening the door, I spot the dress uniform of a Marine and frown, then look up at him. Dark hair and eyes, olive complexion, heavy jaw, tapered nose, full lips and a low brow. He smells clean and of some light, sweet cologne that reminds me of coconuts. He's got the lean physique and wide upper body of a swimmer that I'd drool over, if he were any other man.