Luna draws a muddy star on the stone ledge, but her amber eyes ping between all three of us before landing on me. “I wanted to tell you for a long time—I really did, but I couldn’t. The more people keep finding out, the harder it is to keep.”
My frown deepens, heart starting to race. “About what?” Drugs. I can’t help but jump to secret drug usage because of Beckett.
“A year ago,” Luna begins, letting her light-brown hair get matted with mud, “Donnelly and I hooked up—just oral. On me.”
My brain explodes. Holy fuck.
She continues fast, “If my dad ever finds out, it could be ten times worse than whatever his reaction is to Donnelly tattooing me, so I’ve been trying to keep this under wraps. Different people just keep finding out on accident, but I’ve hated that you don’t know.”
That actually makes me feel better. But when she lists out who knows—Jane, Maximoff, Thatcher, Farrow, Oscar, and Jack—my stomach somersaults knowing just how on the outs I’ve been. I guess Charlie and Beckett aren’t aware either, but I always thought Luna and I were closer after rooming together.
With how poorly I lie, maybe Luna felt like she couldn’t trust me. I guess I can’t fault that reasoning. I wouldn’t want to accidentally cause her or Donnelly pain if he were to get fired.
“You can’t tell anyone, please,” Luna pleads. “Not even Akara.” She barely pauses. “Donnelly is way older than me, so murder might actually be on my dad’s agenda if he finds out.”
Yeah, I can’t see that going well considering Uncle Lo was really hard on my parents for their age-gap when they were dating. But maybe time heals all, and he’s changed.
Luna has these soft, pleading doe eyes.
I want to do right by her. By my friends. To have good friends means that I need to be a good friend too.
Secret-keeping isn’t usually my strong suit, but I’m going to try to gain more experience on that front. “I won’t fucking tell, I promise.” I shift closer to Luna in the mud. Like moving in liquid cement, it takes effort, but I slip between Luna and Jane, and Luna and I curl pinkies in a bigger promise.
My mind is gathering more logic. So if Donnelly and Luna hooked up once, and Donnelly is strangely not seeing anyone, does that mean…
Oh.
Fuck.
Luna and Donnelly.
They’re…dating?
Moffy already looks concerned. Big brother mode is on.
I come out and ask Luna, “Are you and Donnelly in a secret relationship or something?”
Jane rests her chin on her fist. “Exactly what I was going to ask.” So Jane and Moffy have no clue about this. They only knew about the hookup from a year ago, and with that info, plus the rumor I just told them, they theorized a secret relationship like me.
Luna shakes her head profusely. “Nonono.”
“We’d understand if you are, and you can trust us,” Jane says, setting down her phone and goblet on the ledge. “We’ve all been there. Except Sulli, of course.”
Fuck my life.
I have been there. I am currently right fucking there. Although we haven’t exactly settled on labels. Probably because I haven’t been able to choose who’ll go from short-term dating to long-term boyfriend. Not to mention, they might just choose each other in the end.
I pick up a handful of mud. Avoiding direct eye contact with everyone. Thankfully they’re all so focused on Luna, they don’t notice my bad acting.
“There’s no secret relationship happening,” Luna tells us. Her gaze stays on her older brother for a longer beat. “I’ve been honest with you. I wouldn’t lie when I told you it was a one-time thing.”
I’m the real liar.
The bad liar.
Right here.
Me.
The wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“I believe you, Luna,” Moffy says strongly. “It’s just a weird coincidence, and those happen all the damn time, trust me. I’ve been through misunderstandings and doubts.”
The HaleCocest rumor. I cringe remembering how the media thought Moffy and Jane were hooking up. So fucking gross. It was even worse when some of our family didn’t know what was real either. A lot of security facts were stacked against Moffy.
Luna eases, then frowns, thinking harder. “Donnelly and I don’t really talk much outside of group events and some of the tattooing sessions we’ve had. I don’t know anything about his dating life.” Her frown deepens. “I’m just as confused as all of you.”
I say unhelpfully, “Maybe he got an STD and he’s waiting for things to fucking clear up.”
Jane’s eyes go wide. “Is that what Akara said?”
“What? No!” Oh fuck, I am so bad at this. I don’t want to start a rumor about someone having an STD. “It was just a guess. A bad guess. Wipe it away from your memories.”
“It’s gone,” Jane says with a breezy flick of her hand.
Luna’s lips have downturned. “You really think no one would sleep with him if he had an STD?”
“Luna,” Jane says. “The memory is wiped.”
“Oh right.” Luna scoops up handfuls of mud and plops them on her head. “Memory erased.” She looks like Carrie from the movie, only instead of blood, she’s drenched in mud.
“Bachelorette game time,” Moffy decrees.
Fuck yes! Time to win. I pick myself out of the hot mud bath. Sitting on the ledge, ready for total domination.
Jane cups her beer goblet again. “Wait, while we’re on the topic of bodyguard relationships, have you given any more thought to Banks?” She’s volleying the conversation back to me.
“Banks?” Luna frowns.
“He likes Sulli,” Jane says.
Luna draws a newly wet mud mustache on her face over her dried mud mask. “I thought Akara likes Sulli.”
The wind shifts in my sails like I’m being spun sideways. Am I still breathing?
“Akara said he just sees her as a friend,” Jane notes.
“Huh,” Luna tilts her head. “But Banks likes her?’
“Oui.”
This can’t be happening.
If I utter a single word, I’ll be caught in my lie. My lips have cemented together, and I try to be all cool. All casual. I remember how easy it was for Akara to skate through his lie like it was nothing, and hurt blossoms in my chest.
It shouldn’t be easy to lie about this. To lie about them.
Because I lo…I care about them both. Fucking immensely.
Luckily Moffy pries the conversation off Banks and Akara and refocuses it onto the bride-to-be. Moffy doesn’t know it, but he’s definitely helping me be better at secret-keeping. Thank God for the man of honor.
40
BANKS MORETTI
As the best man, it’s my job to make sure my brother is having a good time at his own bachelor party. But Thatcher Alessio Moretti is making that task harder than I thought he would. I’d have better luck flying my ass to the moon.
He hasn’t touched his beer and we’re at a fuckin’ brewery.
At least he keeps sending ice-cold lagers to his fiancée.
“Thatcher,” I lean into his ear, clamping a hand on his strict shoulder. “You can drink more than the baby sips you’ve been taking. We’ve got temps and SFE here.” I hate to give that much credit to Epsilon, but if it’ll ease my brother’s stress then I’ll be spitting those words all day.