He chokes on a pained noise. “Yes.” He gives me a horrified look. “We…” He lowers his voice, close enough that his hand brushes my fingers. “We hooked up. I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t have feelings for you, Sul.”
“You warned me you’re a dick,” I remind him.
“I’m not that kind of dick.” Akara clasps his hand around mine. I let him, as he says, “I’m the dick who isn’t thinking about emotions, just logical tactics—and I regret it. I never want to hurt you like that, Sulli.”
I breathe in, and I curve my arms around his waist. He hugs me. I listen to his heartbeat and his soft apologies in my ear.
Since we’re not hidden behind the corkboard, the embrace doesn’t last long. Akara motions Banks over, and I can tell Akara is frustrated by something else too.
“Why was Oscar pressing me so hard about her?” Akara asks Banks. Hearing them talk about other bodyguards in front of me is always super fucking interesting.
Banks fixes his earpiece. “You know why. It’s always been too easy to bust your balls by bringing up Sulli.”
Akara pinches his eyes. “The fucking Yale boys, man.” He drops his hand. “They’re too talkative and observant.”
Banks bounces his head.
I frown. “You guys don’t think they’ll figure out what’s going on between us?”
Akara is still fuming. “If they keep bugging me about you, maybe.”
As the sun rises and tension builds, the cold recedes. Body heating up, I tie my jean jacket around my waist.
“And the baby,” Akara vents. “Every time I look at that baby, all I can think is, Baby Needs A Bodyguard—like a printed poster across my eye sockets. But no, Farrow and Maximoff don’t want a bodyguard for the baby. They can protect their kid themselves.” He looks to me. “Which I don’t completely understand, considering Maximoff had a bodyguard when he was a baby.”
“I didn’t really have a 24/7 bodyguard until I was older,” I tell him. “So I get it.”
Akara looks to Banks for back-up.
“Baby needs a bodyguard,” Banks nods in agreement.
“Exactly,” Akara says, their eyes on me as they team up against me.
“I’m not sure I love the whole you two versus me thing, but weirdly, I don’t hate it. Probably because I know I can kick your asses.”
Banks laughs like that’s wholly untrue, and now I really want to test out kicking his ass. I’m about to ask how much he can bench-press.
But Akara tells me, “It’s not us versus you, string bean.”
Banks goes to wrap an arm across my shoulders the same time that Akara goes in—and their forearms knock together.
They glare at each other. Hands drop to their sides.
Quickly, I add, “I also don’t like Akara versus Banks—that is the fucking worst matchup.” While they’re on either side of me, I curve one arm around Akara’s waist and the other around Banks’. Squeezing them closer to me.
They ease.
“We’re cool, Sul,” Akara assures me.
Banks nods.
I touch their lower backs, and their gazes roam over me in a sweltering beat. It’s really fucking hot out here. I retract my hands and retighten the knot of my jacket on my waist. And I reroute to the other topic. “Just let Farrow and Moffy do their thing.”
“Well, I have to,” Akara sighs. “They’re not budging no matter what pitch I give.” To Banks, he says, “Thatcher gave me some updates on the guys back in Philly.” He must be referring to Quinn and Donnelly.
“What’s the word?” Banks asks.
While they talk, I study the hiking trail guide on the corkboard. My finger travels the line to The Bitterroot Buttress.
No part of me wishes to return to the rock face. The path there is cursed. And I don’t want to replay the cougar attack every time we trek to the base of the crag. I’m leaving the goal unfinished.
Incomplete.
Safety is more important, and I need to be completely focused. Not halfway back in the past. And anyway, I’ve become more used to scrapping goals and beginning new ones. It’s not that devastating.
Moffy not being able to run the Chile ultra-marathon helped me take small bumps and hiccups in better strides. Shit happens.
Fuck it all and start again.
I tap a finger to the next rock face my dad once free-soloed. The climbing route is dubbed Rattlesnake Knuckle.
“I don’t remember him bringing home any girls since we’ve been living together either,” Banks says to Akara. My ears pick up mid-conversation.
“Who?” I ask.
Yeah, I’m fucking nosy. Maybe because I over-share my life, and it feels like everyone else under-shares.
“Donnelly,” Banks tells me.
Akara explains more, “Quinn said he hasn’t seen Donnelly bring home any girls to hook up with.”
While we trek up the path to RV Campsite #12, they flank either side of me, and I ask them, “Is that out of the ordinary for Donnelly or something?”
“Yeah,” Akara says. “When I was living with him in Epsilon’s house years ago, his one-night stand stole his wallet, mine, and Greer’s in the morning and then bolted.”
Greer Bell. He was my bodyguard before Akara. From age 8 to 16, Greer protected me, and he’s currently the 24/7 bodyguard to my sister Winona. Since Greer joined security at twenty-two, he’s now in his mid-thirties.
I snort. “She was able to steal from legit security guards.”
Banks laughs with me.
Akara tries not to smile. “That’s so not the point, you two.”
“Yeah, what’s the point then?” While we walk, I go to lightly slug his shoulder, then retrack. Remembering he’s hurt. Good call, Sulli.
“Donnelly usually brings chicks home,” Akara tells me, “but he hasn’t been. Any change in my men, just puts me on edge. I’m just worried about him.” He pushes his hair back and fits on a backwards baseball cap.
Banks reminds Akara, “And he’s been sleepwalking.”
Akara let that slip one time to me. So it’s not news to me that Donnelly sleepwalks.
“On one hand, is he okay?” Akara muses out loud, our feet in sync as we pass the camp bathrooms. “On the other, is he fit for duty?” He touches his chest. “I’m not around enough right now to make that call.”
“Then don’t,” Banks says, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Just let Thatcher keep an eye on Quinn who has eyes on Donnelly.”
Akara nods, exhaling.
I understand competitive pressure from sports. But not the kind of pressure that Banks and Akara face daily. They’re both in charge of human lives, but Akara is also in charge of Banks’ life and the rest of SFO. If anything goes wrong, if anyone is hurt, that falls on his shoulders.
While we continue up a hill, we go quiet and I feel their eyes flash to me every now and then. Being between them is the greatest comfort but the biggest challenge I’m going to meet. For some reason, it feels tougher than any rock I’m going to climb.
27
BANKS MORETTI