TAKING OVER TROFIM (Dominion of Brothers series Book 4) (11 page)

“Shit.” Trofim groaned but relented and he took a spot at the edge of the dock, lining up with the transom slider positon. He glanced over his shoulder at Darko then together they stooped and stepped for the boat. Loading into a single or double-man shell was a little different than loading up in an eight team scull. With one foot in the boat and one on the dock, the final transaction was a bit of a Kung-Fu-balancing-crane act. Together they shifted their weight from left foot to right and then kicked off the dock. Never mind the rowing part, this is where you showed your stuff by standing like a pro or splashed like a beginner.

Balancing in the half squat, their bodies auto-corrected down to the finest degree of tilt verses body weight. Keeping that balance and while moving into position was a time practiced skill. Once finally lowering into their seats, they locked their feet into place on the foot boards, armed themselves with the 9.3 foot long oars and were ready.

Trofim stared into the water’s surface, which shown like a warping mirror of liquid silver that had just begun to catch the morning light of the grayish blue sky. He sucked in a deep breath but wherever his mind was about to wander to, Darko’s voice called him back. “Stroke seat has to make the first dip.”

Trofim let out a halfhearted chuckle. He dipped his oars, pressed his legs out against his foot board, and then followed with a long pull with his arms. The boat easily sliced through the river’s stream and on the next sweep Darko’s oar fell in place behind his and from there, they set their pace.

Trofim’s brain went into autopilot. He watched the fins in his peripheral, judging his pace against his brother’s. He marked his breathing and together their bodies became a fluid of motion and timing aligned machinery. After the pulling stretch, they folded inward. Their bodies gathering up around their feet while the oars swept out and back for the next dip, then the long push and pull again. It was a rhythm like a breath and a heartbeat, working together in synchronization that once it was set in a rhythmic movement, became magical. The mind flew away yet was still deeply planted within the body.
Real men row, everyone else just plays with balls
, Trofim pulled up the mantra to himself and just like that, they skimmed up the river like water bugs on glass.

They rowed in silence mostly. The few conversations that came up were on rowing. Darko was trying to squeeze in a few more rowing times in his already full schedule. But, the race season would be starting soon, Darko was sticking to the solo events which had far more competition than the eight crew teams did, and he didn’t care too much for losing. Apparently Maxum’s competitive edge had only enhanced Darko’s.

Trofim was fine with this. In his head he was all Team-Queens. The more titles and wins they had, the happier he felt. He was even trying to convince Pyotr into changing their uniforms from the Navy with the royal-blue and heather-gray broad stripe across the chest to a uniform that was black with a rainbow stripe. So far Pyotr hadn’t budged on the matter, their team uniform was just fine the way it was. On the water, they weren’t gay, they were rowers. However, Pyotr wasn’t against considering some new jackets with a Pride logo.

Trofim and Darko had just passed under the Cross Bronx when the others passed them on the return, heading down stream. Trofim gave a heads-up acknowledgement to his teammates who shouted a few
lames
back at him for being late, getting a chuckle out of Trofim. That was until Pyotr called out orders to Darko, “Make him do another bridge before turning back.”

“Shit.” Trofim muttered. He’d already stalled out his sweep to get ready to make the turn.

“You heard the captain. Stroke it.” Darko called out with a laugh behind him and they set the pace once more to make their way for Bridge Park before turning back. Trofim’s muscles burned, screaming for him to stop. It came with the sport, the fight wasn’t in the rowing but within the body to keep going—
one more— one more stroke. Keep going— don’t give up.
The body rebelled and ached in a way that only death could compare.
It was idiotic, why would anyone want to be a rower?
The pain endured to push out another power push up of twenty strokes to take the gain was any man’s guess to question his sanity. Yet Trofim, like all his team mates, pressed and pulled— refusing to quit or give up.
They couldn’t. He couldn’t. Doing so was the stroke that cost the team the win. And he couldn’t let them down like that. Press on and win.

At least the next bridge wasn’t too much further
.

Finally on the down river jaunt, he and Darko had just pulled out from under Madison Ave Bridge, when Trofim happened to glance up and spotted a familiar body standing at the wall, looking down at him. Light blondish-brown hair poked out from under his hoody and he waved, then turned, and took off in an energetic jog across the bridge before vanishing over the hump. Trofim pulled up a zoomed in image of his on-looker in his mind, following him as the jogger took a right at the bottom of the hill, heading south along the shore for the boathouse.

Trofim fund himself unable to contain his excitement having seen his lover up so early and no less had come out to meet up with him. He twisted in his seat, shooting a smile over his shoulder at Darko.

“Who was that?”

Trofim felt the warmth in his face light up and he smiled, “Shay.”

But for all the happiness Trofim felt, what washed across Darko’s face was anything but. Darko abruptly stopped in mid sweep, his face going stark as the glaring anger seeped in behind his blue eyes. “What do you mean,
Shay
? What the fuck is Shay doing here?”

Trofim felt the intimidating energy pulse off his older brother’s body starling him, but Trofim answered the question anyway. “Because we got back together.”

“You—” the word huffed out of Darko’s lungs and he sucked in a deep breath, trying to work around what he’d just been told, “You and Shay are back together?”

Trofim grew timid. He dropped his gaze and nodded.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?! What do you mean you’re back together? He’s the reason you left in the first place. You’re finally back living state side with us and now suddenly you’re jumping back in his arms all over again?”

Trofim’s heart was bleeding into his guts, Darko’s anger cut like a knife, but more so because his brother didn’t approve of him being with the man he loved the most. “I still love him, Darko.”

Darko slapped his hands over his head, then dragged them over his face as if doing so could wipe the anger from it. But it didn’t. It was still there and grew more fierce as the events of years’ past scampered back to the forefront of memory lane. “After everything he’s done to your life.”

“Shay didn’t do those things. His father did!” Trofim snapped to defend his lover of false blame.

“Yes, but where Shay goes, Benjamin Wilks
, Mr. Public-advocate-to-have-all-sodomizers-burned-to-the-stake
, FOLLOWS!” Darko bellowed out the last word. Trofim couldn’t argue it. Shay’s father was a public spoke person against anything remotely close to gay rights. “And who is to say that bastard won’t come after us again?”

“I’m sorry, Darko. I need him with me.”

Darko ignored the plea, “And let’s not forget it was my fucking apartment he torched!” Darko clenched his fists around his oars and in a sudden burst of energy plunged the fins into the water and pulled.

Whether Trofim was going to fall into step or not, it was clear Darko was going to pull them to shore on his own.

“Fucking shit! I have to get out of here before Maxum comes to get me.”

Trofim returned to face the stern to get his sticks under control. He watched his brother’s chaotic angry pull and sweep, but finally managed to get in sync to row with him.

“I can’t believe you would do this.” Darko continued to verbalize his raging mind openly, “Did you forget the rest of us have loved ones in our lives now?” They pulled several more strokes, and Darko kept up his anger right along with them, “Fuck, I got to get to Maxum.”

Darko’s pulls never even slowed until they literally slammed into the dock. Several of their teammates were still there waiting to give them a hand when they came in and Darko took full advantage of their presence, jumping out, nearly sending Trofim into the drink in the process.

Darko didn’t stop, not even to bother with who was being left with hauling out his own shell. He brushed past the guys, not saying a word, and disappeared into the boathouse.

Trofim tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but do that and he feared his heart might completely give out. It was as if only one thing was going to survive this hit and he couldn’t make the choice. He hurt both mentally and physically. Hemi was suddenly there, reaching out a hand and Trofim took it, letting the big tatted, Maori man haul him out. Even on the deck, Trofim didn’t let go just yet. He needed that steady rock of a man to help him find his legs.

“Hey, why looking so low, sweetness?”

Trofim just looked up at the tattooed face looming over him with a soft expression. He didn’t even know what to say. He glanced at the others. River and Mitch looked from where Darko had stormed off and back to Trofim. But Trofim could see by their expressions they weren’t expecting any explanation. Out of the nine Laszkovi brothers, five of them rowed. It wasn’t the first time any of the teammates had ever seen the brothers fight amongst themselves and wouldn’t likely be the last. Zane, however, took a more hands on approach and came up to pat his back. “Come on, I’ll help you put it away.”

Trofim just numbly nodded and mimicked his best friend’s movements.

Shutting his own head off so he could give in to what his heart wanted and be with Shay had been hard enough. Only Trofim needed his family to back him, or he was going to fall apart from the stress that came with being back with Shay.

They’d just gotten the two seater sculling shell out of the water when they heard the heated argument between Darko and Pyotr coming from inside the boathouse.

“Maybe’s you be needin’ to go on in. See’n this is family stuffs.” Noah gave Trofim an understanding look and relieved him of his duties of cleaning up.

Still on autopilot, Trofim only nodded and numbly did as told. He was completely dazed, unaware of any action deliberated on his own. If someone told him to walk off a short bridge, he’d likely have just nodded and done it. His chest felt the pressure of a wrecking ball slamming against it as he headed in, drawing closer to the clash of titans inside.

Darko was shouting every obscenity plus a few fabricated ones at their eldest brother. And every word of it ripped at Trofim all the more. Of all his brothers, he felt closest to Darko, so not having him on his side for this was an emptiness Trofim wasn’t sure how to deal with. He’d just made the top step when he heard Darko’s phone ring.

“Where you at?” There was a slight pause and from there Darko blasted out over the phone, still clinging to his anger. “Well, why the fuck didn’t you answer me when I called earlier?— Yes, it’s fucking important. So where are you— No. Stop! Don’t come to the boathouse. No, just pull over right where you are and wait for me. I’ll jog over and meet you. No! Pull over! Damn it, don’t come get me. I’ll explain when I get there.” Darko shot a glare over at Trofim. He cut the call and tossed his phone in his pocket, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out. Jabbing a final finger in Pyotr’s direction, “Should’ve told us.”

Trofim fell to the bench at his locker, watching as Darko full steamed it ahead and left in the cloud of rage that clung to him like smoke. Trofim listened to the pounding of foot falls on the stairs then the front door slam closed. Another curse rang out from the parking lot below, loud enough they all heard it. Trofim finally managed to swallow and he swept his gaze over to where Pyotr stood in the threshold. Cliff hovering right behind him, wearing a mixed expression of scowl and bewilderment.

Pyotr’s on the other hand seemed unreadable.

Trofim fell forward, folding over, placing his head on his knees and covered it with his hands as they shook. He felt sick.

And then he felt Pyotr next to him. A fatherly arm coming over his back to hold him and Trofim leaned in against his chest. “He hates me now.”

A dark pitched voice from the other end of the locker room spoke out amid the aftermath of Darko’s rage. “Don’t listen to him, Tro. Darko don’t know what he’s talking about.” Theo tried to add his two cents as he came in and grabbed a towel from his locker then headed for the showers.

“That isn’t true.” Pyotr corrected the statement and waved Theo off. “But, he doesn’t hate you.” He turned his focus to his younger brother. “But his fears are valid and he’s right, I should have told him.”

“But why does he have to get so angry?” Trofim mumbled from the cave of his wavy hair that fell around his face, hiding him against Pyotr’s chest.

“That’s not anger. That’s Darko being afraid. He has a new man in his life. One he loves deeply. He’s afraid this will affect Maxum. And he is afraid of what could happen to you.” Pyotr stroked over Trofim’s back to settle his nerves as much as he could.

Trofim sat up and looked up at his brother’s face. “He has a funny way of showing it.”

Pyotr smiled warmly, “And don’t we all.”

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

Trofim came out of the boathouse to find Shay waiting for him outside. “Why didn’t you come up?” Trofim asked as he stepped up.

“Heard some commotion, figured I better stay out of team business.”

Trofim sucked in a breath and slipped his arms under Shay’s, begging to be held, and there was some small amount of release when without any further prompting, Shay’s arms drew around and held him, taking ownership of Trofim’s body.
It felt good to surrender to Shay
.

“I saw Darko tear out of here like a bat out of hell. Damn near bowled me over.”

Trofim snapped his head up, “Did he say anything to you?”

Shay shook his head with a frown, “No. I don’t think he even saw me.” Shay tightened his hold on Trofim and kissed his head as Trofim slumped into him. “Anything you want to tell me?”