Nobody Like Us (Like Us #13)

by Krista Ritchie

I’ve been avoiding funerals most of my life.

“Who?” Fear flickers in his eyes. He reaches in his pocket for his phone. “Greg Calloway,” I tell him. “Your father-in-law.” Patriarch of the Calloway sisters. Creator of Fizzle: the behemoth soda company that rivals Coca-Cola and Pepsi. Husband to the Crow. Grandfather to Luna.

“And just so you know—and what I’ll be telling your uncles—this isn’t close to anything that could knock me over. The fact that you all thought Greg ‘I’m a shit grandparent’ Calloway would put me on my ass is insulting.”

“Sure, I loved him when he made amends with your mom and when I saw him only as her father. He was decent to Lil. He loved her more than her mother ever did. But I hated him when he started letting his wife treat my children like dog shit while favoring Rose and Connor’s kids. You might as well have been invisible to him.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Lo continues, “he’s been dead to me for years. So has your grandmother. Any tears I shed will be ones of absolute joy.” My lips begin to rise.

“God, you’re such a Hufflepuff.” Maximoff groans. “You have your mom’s heart.” “Dad.” “That’s a good thing. Keep it. You don’t want mine. It’s ugly.” “It’s not,” Maximoff refutes. “That’s exactly what she’d say.” He smiles at him.

“Idon’twanthimtobecareful,” I slur together. “Not with this. I want him to destroy me. In the sexiest, hottest way.” I say it to my lap but loud enough that Farrow hears. I lift my head. Farrow chews slower on his gum. “Whatever your kinks are—you need to tell him, not me.”

“From them,” Dad clarifies. “This house loves when we kiss, love.” He nuzzles into her neck with playful kisses, and Mom flushes, clinging tighter to him.

“We just started dating,” I say, trying to sound casual and not protective. Luna picks herself out of a slouch, and our eyes meet in a moment of clarity. We’re dating. What else would I call this trip to a dive bar in the middle of the night? It’s not a casual outing of two friends. I’m taking her to Thirsty Goose with the implication that I might kiss her, might buy her a drink, might even fuck her later…slow down.

Navigating the start of a relationship better be the hardest part of one.

“Blowjob?” he asks. “Never had one.” He grins. I blush, my smile pulling so hard at my face. “You like blowjobs?” “Love giving head.” He says it so casually, and his grin expands even wider. “Or did you wanna know if I like the shot?” “Both,” I say, more unabashed. “It’s not my favorite shot.” He pauses. “I heard the green ones are the best.” “We must investigate then. For science. Only green shots.”

“I was definitely marking my territory, and I also wanna be your boyfriend.” I try to hold her gaze, too eager for her response. And ever so slowly, her lips hoist in the cutest smile. “I guess that makes me your girlfriend.” I grin back. “Looks like it.” I’ve been hanging on to this goal post for dear life, and I just flew through it. Confetti cannons, stadiums of applause, champagne spewing in the air, I hear and see it all in my head, and my grin widens. I have the girl.

Silence falls again, and I’d bet any unborn child of mine that we’re all thinking we wish the Crow died instead of her husband.

“Lily thought it’d be good if I left the Hale House.” “Why?” Thatcher asks. “She might’ve caught me eating Luna out in the kitchen.” Frog gasps. “Donnelly,” Akara says like a disappointed parent. Banks is laughing. Thatcher is shaking his head. And Quinn asks me, “Is Luna okay?” “I didn’t get to finish her, so in that sense no.” Quinn glares.

“None that we know of. She’s pretty much been the number one Marrow and Kitsulletti shipper online, and when the Thatcher cheating rumors wouldn’t die down, she tweeted like every single day about how loyal he is to Jane. Shit, I think she even changed her profile picture to Highveira fan art back when Charlie stans dog-piled on Jack for dating Oscar.”

“He’s dead.” Tom lifts his shoulders, his hand wrapped around a mug of coffee. “What’s he going to do? Yell at us for talking about anything other than him?” Eliot says, “No, that’s just our dear, lovely, youthful grandmother.” He arches and lowers his brows in a sarcastic wave. While we were downstairs, she brushed past us at the spread of breakfast pastries as Tom had been expressing his hatred of honeydew.

“I’ve loved your mom at her weakest, at her strongest, at her most broken. And she’s loved me at mine. There’s never been a day where I haven’t loved her.”

“He’s been more careful with me than you even know. He’s always considering what happened and my health, even when I wish he would forget.” “But the kitchen,” Dad says gently. “We eat there.”

“Okay. I’ll ask your boyfriend.” My lips part in gut-punching shock. Did I just transport myself to an alternate universe? Is this real? “Did you just call him my…?” “Is that not what he is to you?” he asks. Tears invade my eyes, and I blink, the waterworks cascading down my face. I rub my cheeks fast and spring to my feet. In seconds, I’m hugging my dad, and his arms are wrapping around me. The beat of my heart begins to slow.

She’s all one Luna to me. One girl to love over and over and over again.

“Donnelly.” He suddenly brings him into the conversation. “Who’d you crush on?” His eyes dart to me, then the sky. “The moon. Round and sexy. Always out to play at night.” He makes a crude gesture with his fingers, splitting them in a V, and sticks his tongue between them. I grin.

“Oh…my…” Audrey is hyperventilating. “His head!” I slip around a baby blue Land Rover and see Cardboard Connor’s head on the gravel. “I didn’t do anything,” Kinney snaps and points at the car. “It was the Subaru’s sideview mirror.” “My dad…” Audrey is still holding the cardboard torso. “My dad is decapitated.” “Cardboard Dad,” Kinney says. “And he’s like seventy years older than this now.” She gestures to the cardboard face of a young twentysomething Uncle Connor. “The young version of him is disturbing. This might be a Christmas miracle for my eyes.”

“I wish we all had glaucoma so we could unsee the ugly blob on your neck.” It’s a Batman tattoo.

Even though I believed in Santa Claus as a child, I never needed to feel loved through a fairytale. I felt love in the smiles and laughter around the tree. In the way Aunt Daisy would gift T-shirts with holiday slogans to everyone. In the way we’d spend hours building gingerbread houses, only for most of them to fall apart in the end. In the way we’d stay up as late as we could, just to drink hot chocolate and fight over which holiday movie to watch. The Grinch and Home Alone and Peter Pan (the 2003 film, which my mom is adamant is a Christmas movie in disguise). There was always a surplus of love. It was the best gift every single year.

Dad sighs. “Come on, man. Being a kid means getting to believe in the impossible. It means believing that fairies exist along with spells and magic, and that on your eleventh birthday you’ll receive a letter from Hogwarts. It means thinking your presents arrived from a workshop in the North Pole and not the store down the street. And Connor…” His face twists at a thought. “I’m really sorry your mom took that shit from you. If you had even a semblance of it growing up, you would realize how special it is. Don’t take that away from Jane.” Jane smiles fondly at the TV. “He didn’t.”

“You need to spi…?” He trails off, seeing me swallow his load, and his smile turns into a light laugh. “Taste like top-tier man?” “Uh-huh. Only the greatest kind.”

I’m lost for words for a second. I didn’t know Xander saw me as someone in leagues with our larger-than-life older brother. I thought, if anything, I’d be more like the inferior superhero with little to no screentime. You see her funky hair color in the background shot—but you aren’t really even sure what powers she possesses.

“Luck in a jar,” I say. “What?” He stares blankly. “Is that a sex position?” I hold back a laugh.

“Girl, you keep doing this to me,” I say in one breath. “What?” “Making me fall in love with you.” I’m still choked. Don’t know how I managed to say it at all, but I clear the ball out of my throat. “Don’t stop.” Very softly, she says, “I never will.”

I’m about to congratulate myself. But I freeze. Oh fuck. Her parents are going at it. Luna whirls around, her forehead to my chest, but she’s also shielding her eyes with her palms. I hug her against me, about to draw her back into the kitchen. “OhmygodLo!” Lily shrieks on the hood of the parked Bugatti. Loren Hale has his hand down the front of Lily’s leggings. He peers over his shoulder, curses, and then tries to catch Lily, but she bolts for the shelf of paper towels. Ducking out of sight.

“No, don’t cry,” Lily rushes out to her daughter, and they immediately embrace in a tight hug. “It’s not your fault. It’snotyourfault.” Lo’s glower softens on them. “We didn’t know you were dating the goddamn Hulk.”

“Out in the cold,” I say, still seeing my breath. “Freezing our asses off for some wieners.” He makes an unamused face. “You’re so funny, I think I heard the dead bodies I buried laughing back here.” I grin. “Good ears. Been told I have better ones though, and your dead friends aren’t chuckling hard enough.”

“For Luna,” I say. It was always about Luna. “I’ve talked to Farrow about it a bit. That night—I let it catch me. It rooted itself in me. It’s anger like I’ve never felt before. I’m not an angry person,” I tell him. “Never really have been. But sometimes I’m just so full of fucking rage about what happened.” I wipe at the wet creases of my eyes. “I’ve never hated parts of myself until now. But how the hell do you stop being angry at how much pain the girl you love was put through?” I’m scared. Terrified. That he’s going to kick me out of his house. Tell me I’m not worthy of his daughter. That I can’t be around her if I’m feeling this way. “She’s okay,” Lo breathes. I cut my gaze to him, my nose flaring as my eyes well up again. “She’s not in pain. She’s okay,” Lo nods to me a few times. “Luna survived with you that night. It might not feel like it because of her memories, but she got out. You got her out, Donnelly.” His eyes redden as emotion barrels into him too. “She’s not in pain. She’s the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time.” I rub at my eyes with my fist, his words nearly opening me at the core. I’ve never wanted to hurt her. The mere fucking thought has woken me up in the middle of the night. Lo leans closer and puts a hand on my shoulder like I’ve seen fathers do to sons in movies. “It’s okay.” I shut my eyes, silent tears falling against my cupped palm around my eyes. “It’s okay,” he breathes. “It really is.”

“Jerking off, yeah.” He grins at my cheeks that’ve likely gone bright red. “What’s up?” “Your dick,” I tell him, unable to stop myself. He laughs. “Facts.”

“Some epic romances aren’t born from easy times,” I say softly. “They’re born from strife and conflict and sometimes horrible shitty things happening.”

I try not to freak out about Donnelly’s sudden disappearance, and I glance at the sketch. Wow…my lips part in disbelief. He drew me. The me right now. Here. On this bed. The long lines of my legs, my perked nipples, the Kansas tee bunched up at my collar, the galaxy tattoo on my thigh. My O-face. I look undeniably sexy. Sultry. Like a woman he imagines fucking. Or making love to.

“You wanna say something?” I finally snap. “Or are you just checking me out? ‘Cause we’ve been over this, I’m straight⁠—” “But you’ve blown how many guys before?” O’Malley slings back. I glare. “Why so interested? You asking for one?”

I exit the bathroom to a mop of dark hair and piercing blue eyes. “You need to shit?” I ask him and toss him the keys. “Just making sure you weren’t doing anything stupid,” he mutters. “Like what? Getting high?” I glare. “With what?” I motion to our naked selves. “I didn’t shove anything up my ass. But you—maybe you put a fucking soul up yours. Why don’t you go dig deep and try to pry it out.”

It’s not making sense. Not until I tell Kera thanks again, then walk out into the cold with my arm slung around my girlfriend. I stop short beside the ice chest. Luna’s Volvo, a security SUV, and Mazda are parked near the two pumps. Leaned up against the cars are Akara and Banks…then Quinn, Gabe, and Frog. And Oscar. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest. He’s against the door of the Mazda. He must’ve taken his husband’s car. And I realize, they aren’t here for Luna. They came here for me.

“It’s real. Deadass. Chris O’Malley is my cousin.” He might’ve taken it to his grave, but I’m not taking it to mine.

“All I ask,” Lily says, “is that you always treat Luna like she’s your moon, your stars, your entire galaxy, like she’s every fragile and mighty thing.” It’s the easiest thing anyone could ask of me. “I will,” I breathe. “Now…” She picks up her coffee mug and takes a tiny sip. “What’s your ship name? Because I keep seeing ‘dirty duo’ and that doesn’t sound magical enough for a ‘Luna and Donnelly’ pairing.” I laugh into a grin. “Been thinking the same thing.”

Still, I think it’s sacrilege to consider my uncle as the Captain America like my dad does. In my life, that’s always been my older brother. Moffy even found his very own Bucky Barnes in Farrow. The happy thought eases me.

“Why do you think he’s lying?” Mr. Wagner asks. Eliot stiffens, only slightly, beside me. Charlie gestures a hand to him. “He’s a fucking actor.”

“Sorry!” Frog calls out. “I’m preserving the moment! Not trying to ruin it! Shit,” she curses to Quinn. Then shouts to us, “Continue as you were! Make out! Kiss. Do the deed. We’ll look away.” “Frog,” Quinn groans. “What? No one’s around. Let them get it on.”

“I’m not looking to be a king. I don’t want anyone kneeling at my feet, especially because I’m gonna be kneeling at yours. Gotta worship my queen.”

He’s thinking. “It’s more intense.” He reaches for an empty energy drink can on the nightstand, and he taps ash into it. “Your reactions are heightened. Your body used to always tremble, but now it’s like you’re going through a fucking exorcism when you orgasm, and it’s…” He’s grinning into a drag of the cigarette. “It’s hot. Really hot.”

“The right one will be with you whether you’re a virgin or not. And if he’s the right one—I’d like to believe he’ll make it feel like there was no one ever before him.”

“Say what you mean, Mr. Cobalt. We’re all open here.” He uncaps a dry erase marker. “I mean your family owns tabloids that print lies and whose entire goal is to profit off peoples’ suffering. So how can you talk about standards when the Rochesters have none?”

I’m no one,” he states. “Just never thought I’d hear you say that about me.” I hold his gaze. “‘Cause I’m the nobody. The waste of space. Waste of a life.”

Lo’s attention descends to his daughter’s thong in my hand. And I don’t say a word about it. He grabs a bottle of Tylenol out of the medicine cabinet. “For the headache you’re giving me.” “Don’t forget the tissues,” I tell him and point to the Kleenex on the third shelf. “For the tears you’ll shed when I’m gone.” “Of joy.” He flashes a half-smile, then says to both of us, “Breakfast is done, son-in-law and whoever you are.” I grin. “Dementia’s already setting in?” Farrow laughs into a wider smile. Lo goes to the door. “You wish you could reach my age.” My smile softens. “Yeah, I do.” “You will,” is all he says before leaving. I look to Farrow. “Think I’m warming up to him.” “You’re definitely becoming his favorite.” He says it seriously.