“Us,” he corrects.
Jane nods. “Us.”
The last big family meltdown happened when our grandparents on our dad’s side heard Thatcher and Jane aren’t marrying in a Catholic church.
I’m partly grateful I’m not heading for matrimony like Thatcher. I already have literal migraines every other fucking day. I’d rather not add in a figurative one.
“You’re already doing enough,” Thatcher assures her. He comes up behind her and wraps an arm around her collar, then places a kiss on her temple.
Her freckled cheeks pull in a smile, then she leans against his chest and holds onto his forearm at her breastbone.
It makes me smile because I’ve wanted someone for my brother. Someone he loves more than me. So maybe if I die first, it won’t hurt him so badly.
Thatcher stares harder in my eyes, and I know he’d want the same for me. But I also know he’d call me a stunad for thinking our bond could be contested. What we share is just different.
It always will be.
“I didn’t forget, you realize,” Jane says to me.
“Forget what?” I ask, trying not to break into another cold sweat.
“You and Sullivan, my cousin,” Jane emphasizes, letting go of Thatcher’s arm. She tears from his embrace just to step closer to me. “I think she quite likes you.”
I eye Jane like she’s eyeing me. Cobalts. They all must be descendants of Sherlock fucking Holmes. “Well, I quite like her.”
Jane instantly smiles. “Then do something about it.”
Thatcher exhales a heavy breath. “Akara loves her, Jane.”
Her eyes grow. “Since when?”
“It’s unspoken,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “This isn’t leaving the three of us.”
“Oui,” Jane nods. “Can I help in any way?”
A phone pings. Thatcher digs his cell out.
I shake my head to Jane. There’s nothing she can do. Sulli and I just need to confess to Akara that we kissed and then go from there.
Thatcher texts someone. He must feel me and Jane staring because he says, “It’s Donnelly.”
I shift my weight. “Is Xander alright?” Xander has had Donnelly as a bodyguard for almost a whole year. Not a week goes by where I’m not thinking about that kid.
“Yeah, he went to Wawa tonight.”
I start to smile. That must be the tenth time he’s gone to Wawa this month. Donnelly is good for the kid, and I could be a resentful asshat about it. Thinking that maybe I wasn’t doing enough for Xander when I was on his detail.
But Thatcher and I protected him during a time in his life where he lacked confidence, sought shelter indoors, and feared most people. A time where he was losing his brother to college. He needed us to be big brothers. Not cool friends.
Thatcher continues, “Donnelly is letting me know he’s going off-duty.” He hoists his phone, reminding me he’s out of comms-range with the two Omega bodyguards back in Philly: Paul Donnelly and Quinn Oliveira. As the lead, my brother has to know our whereabouts and wrangle all our asses.
I crack a smile. “My twin brother, from Cinderella to Adventures in Babysitting.”
Thatcher glares more at his phone. “And Quinn is the long-lost child I can’t fucking find.” He shoves his cell in his pocket. “It’s too much to ask for him to send me a text letting me know where he’s fucking off to. I have no idea where he’s been today. Luna could be in a fucking ditch.”
Now he’s stressed out.
Jane whips out her phone. “I’ll text her and see what she’s up to.”
They’re a good team.
It’s my last thought before I spot Farrow and Maximoff exiting the motel room. Is Sulli okay? The single question pushes me off in their direction.
Nodding to my brother in a quick see ya, I sprint over to Farrow while he’s mid-conversation. Straining my ears, I pick up some on my way.
“You have the keys?” Maximoff asks his husband. “I’m driving next.”
“You sure about that?” Farrow smiles, shifting the strap of his trauma bag.
“Let me think.” Maximoff barely pauses (the Hale sarcasm, I know well). “Yep. I’m over-my-dead-body positive. We agreed to switch off.”
“Okay, but I only drove for two hours. I’ll swap later, and you have something in your hair, wolf scout.”
Maximoff lets out a laugh, like he foiled Farrow’s master distraction plan. “No I don’t.”
Farrow runs his tongue over his bottom lip, grinning. “I’m not fucking with you. You have something in your hair.”
“My bionic superpower is all-seeing, and I see that there’s a bucket load of nothing there.”
Farrow smiles more. “Just when I forgot how big of a dork you really a—”
“You check out Sulli’s foot?” I interrupt the very second I roll up in front of them. Causing them to stop abruptly in place.
Farrow eyes me with raised brows, like I’m a bat flapping hysterically out of hell. “Yeah, her foot is fine. She’ll live.”
Maximoff slips me a tougher look. The don’t hurt my cousin warning is something I’ve seen him shoot more at my brother. I just now realize he’s holding his son.
Ripley isn’t sleeping anymore. The baby rubs his tired, blue eyes, his cheek on Maximoff’s chest.
I nod, “Thanks.”
Farrow frowns. “Why are you acting like you stung her, Moretti?”
Maximoff tenses. “Did you do something—?”
“No,” I cut in sharply. “I didn’t exactly do a knockout job helping her with the swelling. I just wanted to make sure she’s okay.”
Her cousin eases a bit. “She’s alright. Sulli is tough.”
I nod, “Yeah, she is.”
I kissed her.
I kissed her.
We fucking kissed. I bite down on my molars, hoping the truth isn’t raging through my eyes like it’s raging through my head.
I can handle this.
Hell, I’ve got this. Yeah, it’s fresh on the brain—it literally just happened and I’ve already spilled to Thatcher—but this news can’t be that hard to shelter. I’ve done a twin-switch before and pretended to be my brother for weeks on end. Now that was fucked up and impossible.
“You took a shower with her?” Maximoff asks suddenly.
“No,” I say. “I took one after her.” At least I’m not lying. He might only be twenty-four, but this third-degree feels like he’s her fifty-year-old father grilling my ass.
So I step out of their faces, and we all head for the same place. The rental cars where Oscar, Charlie, and Akara still talk.
On our trek, Farrow plucks a leaf out of Maximoff’s hair. He shows his husband. “You were saying?”
“I saw that,” Maximoff replies, trying to suppress a smile.
Farrow keeps smiling until Maximoff breaks his composure. Keeping pace, Farrow cups the back of Maximoff’s head, bringing him closer as they walk. Slipping each other affectionate smiles.
They have that storybook love.
What I used to call sentimental, sappy romance when I was a kid.
Attainable for only few. Like my Cinderella brother.