Noted. “I’ll take a shower before I see Tony.” I hold out my hand for his radio. “Let me check the battery.”
“Sure, Mom.” He slaps it in my palm.
I almost roll my eyes now. “How long did it take you and Maximoff to get here?” I look up, just to check on Jane.
She’s lacing one boot, and her best friend ties the other for her. Both chatting and catching up like we are.
“At his pace, three hours. We would’ve been earlier, but we couldn’t leave the house until the wind died down.” Our eyes lift as snow flurries turn thick, sticking to the ground.
The sun is gone. Not good.
Farrow stands off the car. “The others wanted to come too.”
“Her brothers?”
“No. They just wanted Maximoff to go.”
That’s how much the families trust him as their leader. Charlie probably didn’t see a purpose in going if Maximoff was there.
“I meant Oscar, Donnelly, Quinn…Akara,” Farrow tells me. “Omega.”
I freeze, hand on my mic cord, then surprise leaves me in a breeze. “For Jane,” I realize.
Farrow nods. “And you.”
It slams me back. Almost hard to believe. Hard to accept. “You’re bullshitting me.”
He laughs. “Fuck, I’d come up with better bullshit.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stick of gum. “Sulli was dying to go to, and the only reason they’re all not here is Tony.” He pops the gum in his mouth. “That dipshit was determined to rescue Jane. And most of us were concerned he’d walk into this.”
This.
He’s referring to me and Jane sleeping together. The twin switch could’ve been blown, and the consequences are heavy if Tony finds out and tells the Alpha lead. Banks could lose his job.
I could lose my job.
Tomorrow is December 20th and we’re flying back to Philly. I barely have a day left pretending to be Banks. I can’t fuck this up, especially this close to the end.
“So Akara told everyone to stay back and Tony listened?”
“Basically.” Farrow chews gum. “Tony was fine with Maximoff and me going.” He doesn’t add why Tony would be okay with just them, but I already know the reason.
Farrow is essential. A doctor. And Maximoff is resilient enough that most of the team believes he could protect himself and then some.
As the weather worsens, we wrap this up and get what we need. They brought two extra packs, and we stuff some groceries in them. It should be a six-hour hike back, but that’s not even what’s bearing on our minds.
We all look up at the angry sky.
“Do we think this’ll let up by tomorrow?” Maximoff asks.
Jane inhales, normally in preparation for a battle but none of us expected to face Mother Nature over and over again. “God, I hope so.”
27
JANE COBALT
“What do you mean we can’t leave?” Beckett stops at the bottom step of the wooden staircase. Luggage is piled near the door of Mackintosh House, overloaded with backpacks, suitcases, and duffels. Our flight leaves tonight, but we’re supposed to make the long car ride to the airport this afternoon.
Delayed is a kind word for what’s happening here.
And unfortunately, Beckett—of all people—has risen early enough that he’s stepped into an informal meeting about the situation.
My palms warm around a mug of steaming coffee, and I stand uneasily in the foyer where wet jackets hang on a coat rack and frost resembles spider-web cracks on the door’s windowpanes. I’m the only female at this tense gathering, and Maximoff is the only family member of mine. Until Beckett arrives.
The other six men here are Security Force Omega: Thatcher, Akara, Farrow, Oscar, Donnelly, and Quinn.
And I wish I had better news for Beckett. He already has on a blue snow coat, Ray Bans on his head, and a duffel bag strapped across his chest.
Beckett gestures to the door, his arm gliding with more poise than hostility—even his voice is even-tempered. “The exit is right there.”
I step forward. He’s my brother after all, and I put him in this mess. “We’re snowbound, Beckett.” I explain how temperatures have fallen to the negatives, and snow and ice dominate the remote village with no reprieve just yet.
His face contorts like he can’t believe what I’m saying.
Seeing my naturally calm brother look so pained drives a wedge in my ribs.
“Wait, wait.” He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them. “But we can leave in a few hours?” His chest rises and falls harder.
I open my mouth, but I struggle to say the truth that we both know exists.
Thankfully, the Omega lead steps in. “You can physically leave,” Akara explains, “but you won’t make it far. Every car is packed beneath snow.”
“We can shovel them out,” Beckett says like this is just another thick snowfall in Philly. He looks to Moffy. “You’ve shoveled out two-feet of snow before. This is easy for you, and I’ll help.”
SFO goes more rigid.
Maximoff cracks a knuckle. “It’s not just the cars, Beck.”
“Roads aren’t plowed,” I tell my brother.
Akara nods. “We have no way to reach the airport, and even if we do, the planes are probably grounded.”
“Probably.” Beckett blinks a terrible ton. “So no one knows for sure?”
I step closer, only a couple feet from him. “The phone lines are down. No one has service, not even to check the internet. But before we lost cable, Akara saw local news. They’re calling this a big freeze, and they suggest residents and winter visitors wait out the cold front and ration provisions.”
As soon as I say the word “ration,” his entire face falls. Beckett steeples his fingers on the bridge of his nose and the corners of his tightened eyes.
I wince just seeing him wince. “I’m so sorry,” I breathe softly. “But we’ll make the best out of this…” I trail off as he shakes his head once.
Silently and kindly telling me to shut up.
I do.
Akara pushes his hair back, and the black strands fall back forward. “Look, I don’t want to be the bad guy here, but no one can leave the house until the roads clear. It’s just too dangerous.”
Beckett drops his fingers and his pain is on me. “You told me one week.”
I take a tight breath, the heat of eight pairs of eyes bearing down on me. Most of them are consoling, the only ones that pierce and shred are my brother’s.
Suddenly, Thatcher comes up to my side, and I stare up at him like my archangel has swooped in to defend me. “Respectfully, Jane didn’t know we would be snowed-in.”
Beckett pinches his eyes, as though that’ll change our fate. “She knew there could be a chance.”
“A slim possibility,” I say quietly. “If we could foresee the future, we wouldn’t have brought you here.”
“Bullshit,” Beckett says smoothly and takes his duffel off his shoulder. “I’d still be here, sis. I have a hard time believing you wouldn’t love a week to turn into two weeks, three weeks—however long you think it’ll take for me to kick a problem that I don’t have.”