More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“Hey.” Tony checks back on the bingo caller, still not ready for the next round, then looks to Jane. “How about them Eagles, huh?” He smiles and tries to perch his hands on the back of her chair. I extend my arm, blocking him. “No.”
“I’m part of the team. Or did you forget that?” I stare him dead in the eye. Loudly, I say, “She’s my girlfriend, or did you fucking forget that?” People whisper and look over at us. Publicly, we’re together.
He spreads his arms, goading me to hit him. “I just did you a fucking favor. It’s not my fault you couldn’t man-up and say what needs to be sa—” I have Tony by the collar. I’m five seconds from slamming his entire body into the fucking ground. Farrow is quick. He’s already climbed over the table onto my side. He wedges himself between us and rotates to Tony. “Man, I’m sick of listening to you. Walk the fuck away.”
Maximoff is a hothead and if Tony tries to fuck with Farrow, which I’m pretty positive he will try—Maximoff is going to throw a fist.
Tony sizes Farrow up. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Epsilon—” “Farrow,” I call. “We’re shoving off.” I click my radio, not taking one of my hands off her. “Thatcher to security, Jane and Maximoff are Oscar Mike in five.” Farrow steps back over the table and drops down next to Maximoff, taking his hand. I take hers.
We escorted Jane and Maximoff safely to their vehicles. They protested because they saw us being dragged back and tried to help. But I literally picked Jane up, and I’ve never seen Farrow shove Maximoff that hard into the car. Their lives come first.
Especially when hostile crowds start breaking bottles. Some leather-jacket-wearing fuckbag tried to smash a beer bottle over Farrow’s head, and I blocked the blow with my arm and restrained the threat. Farrow got cut on the knee with glass. He was able to bandage his own wound in the car.
Wtf is wronh with people
“I’m not asking you to drink with me as a fake boyfriend and girlfriend…because clearly, we’re not in public, you see.” My brows knit. What we are together in private, in public, in every other setting, is starting to confuse the hell out of me. And we have to be in agreement.
“You need to clarify,” I say deeply. “What do you think you are to me right now?” Jane tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, then motions to me. “This is just friendship…just two ole pals drinking whiskey. If you’d like to drink with me, that is.” Friendship.
Omg no jane
But my chest tightens. She’s used to friends-with-benefits, and that’s where she’s placed me. That’s all she wants. The fact that I’m sitting here and feeling like it’s not just that—it’s a fucking problem. I shouldn’t be veering off course.
“Skylar probably would’ve gotten a kick out of me drinking whiskey with a girl.”
“I think he told me a lot of horseshit. But it was loving horseshit.” I rest the bottle on my knee. Staring at the blue Beetle for a second. If she looks at you a lot, it means she likes you. His advice. He’d ruffle my hair with his hand and grin. Teasing me, and I thought he was a badass. Some kind of invincible warrior.
Aw
I tell her how Skylar was three years older. He died at fifteen. Banks and I were twelve at the time. “His death caused a lot of friction in my family.”
“She sounds like a beautiful person,” Jane tells me, her soft smile so genuine. “I’d love to meet her and your mom one day—if appropriate. I know it may not be possible for security reasons, but I just…” She takes a measured breath. “They seem quite lovely, is all.” My chest rises. “They’d like to meet you.” She smiles more. “They would?”
“He said I should’ve biked harder.” Off her confusion, I explain the rest. How my brother died. He used to bike out to a quarry. He’d sneak a few beers to drink, throw rocks, and swim. Sometimes alone, sometime with friends. Always to let off steam. Occasionally he’d let me and Banks tag along. One night, I heard him sneak out, and I knew he was probably headed there. I asked my mom if I could go with Sky. She said yes. I followed on my bike.
Wtf
When I got there, I dropped my bike and ran straight in the water. Skylar had jumped off a common diving point. But it was dark. No moonlight. The water was too shallow, and he hit rock. He ended up unconscious in the water around ten minutes before I showed up. There wasn’t anything I could do. But I tried. I was strong for twelve.
Omg
dragged him out of the water, and my gold chain twisted on the gold chain around his neck. Our cornics stuck together. Later, my grandma unknotted the chains and put both gold horns on one necklace. She said they were meant to be together.
I set the whiskey bottle on the ground. “Skylar used to say to our dad, I’m going to be a Marine one day. To piss him off.” My dad used to be die-hard Navy. Until after my brother died, when I said, “I’m going to be a Marine.” For Sky. And then he said, “Okay.”
“It could be months,” Akara warns me. “The police still don’t know who broke into the house, and now she has a habitual stalker jerking off outside her window.”
Wtf
Banks tips his beer to Akara. “It’s good that you’re the one who caught Sneakers getting his rocks off in his car. Thatcher would’ve killed him.”
“My civic duty,” Akara banters, “keep Thatcher from murdering targets.” Banks smiles. “Amen.” They clink bottles and swig.
“I texted back that a minor threat was being detained. She didn’t want more.” “Sulli is like that,” Akara says, beer to his lips. “She doesn’t ever want extra details.” “Who would?” Banks asks. “Maximoff,” Akara and I say at the same time.
Only Cobalts have ever attended. No Hales, no Meadows. Never bodyguards. What goes on there is almost urban legend on the security team. No one really knows. Except that if you have a Cobalt client, they’ll usually fight to make it back to their childhood house every Wednesday, every week.
“You remember Will Rochester?” Akara throws his cell on the counter. “Apparently he’s planning on throwing Sulli a Hallow Friends Eve party the day before Halloween.” He shakes his head repeatedly. “I don’t like where this is fucking going. He seems…” “Like he’s into her?” Banks finishes. “Because that’s one-hundred percent certain—” “I know that,”
But ever since last year, he’s picked up that Sulli is starting to show real interest in dating. And his overprotectiveness and his level of care for his client has shot through the fucking roof.
“You’re not jealous?” Banks wants confirmation. Akara glares. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Rich guys can do that,” Banks points out. “I’m rich,” Akara says, “and I can’t do half of what he’s planning.” Akara had about the same wealth as Farrow growing up. His dad was a big shot broker. But he died when Akara was seventeen. Akara used the life insurance money to open up Studio 9.
Banks nods to Akara. “So this Will guy lives around here. How deep is he?” Akara tosses pills back into the jug. “Banks, I love you, man, but we talked about that phrase. No one but you and your brother use it, and all I picture is someone’s cock deep between a set of thighs.”
Lmao
That’s going to be me, I realize. Once this op ends soon, Jane could easily meet a rich prick. Could I help her fall in love with another man? Could I watch that fucking happen?
“Jane.” Sulli tosses one of her squishy basketballs at my face. It bounces off my forehead. Sulli turns to Luna. “We’ve fucking lost her.” “To the aliens,” Luna nods.
“Luna, what’s your theory on body-snatching?” I ask. Sulli gives me a look like no fucking way have you been body-snatched. Luna now squirts body glitter into her bowl. “Body-snatching is not impossible. I once thought I had this out-of-body experience one summer. But I think I was just huffing too much glue.”
“You know how Moffy will offhandedly mention that Farrow says he smells like summer? Like all the time.” Yes, Maximoff will do that frequently. Almost like he doesn’t even know he’s speaking out loud.
“And then we overheard Thatcher saying you smell like spring. I wasn’t fucking eavesdropping or anything—” “I was.” Luna raises a green glitter hand.
I try to follow their logic. “So Maximoff smells like summer. I smell like spring.” Where is this going? Sulli nods. “And Farrow has white fucking hair. And Thatcher always wears those plaid flannels like he’s about to chop some wood in the forest.”
Luna beams. “Farrow is winter. Thatcher is fall. Which makes the four of you the Seasons.” She claps her hands accidently. “You have your own friendship name. We do our best.” She pounds a fist with Sulli. “The Seasons,” I say with a smile.
“Jane.” Thatcher’s deep voice is a bit muffled outside. “My mom wants to know if you prefer white or red pasta sauce.” I’m meeting his family in a couple days.
He can’t see my cousins. But they are both grinning like they’ve discovered fairy dust and fountains of eternal youth. Between this and the Seasons name, I’m beginning to think Sul and Luna are like two impish pixies.
I glance over my shoulder. Luna holds up a finger. “And—we’re off live.” Sulli’s brows are sky high. “Fuck, are you two going for an Emmy or something?” Luna beams like she’s witnessing something extraterrestrial. “Spring and fall are rising.”
She has her back to the calico cat, perched proudly on the surface. The feline audience is necessary. Or else they’ll cry at her door.
And Ophelia is at the foot of the bed. Curled up watching me fuck her owner. We’ve shooed her off the mattress four times already.
Lmao
I rub water off my eyes. “Was that Sean Donnelly?” I name Donnelly’s dad. “Yeah.” Farrow leans his side casually
“What helps you?” Farrow asks me, vague. We’ve been vague about PTSD. “Water on my face should be enough.” I unscrew the bottle. “You said yours is triggered by rain?” He kicks back against the closed fridge. “Yeah, but it’s been better.” He pauses. “Is yours frequent?” “No.” I swig the water, coolness rushing down my throat. “I haven’t had a nightmare in a while.” “It kicked your ass awake?” I meet his eyes. “Like a hammer to the skull.” He nods a few times.
I hold his gaze. “I stuck a fucking thorn in your side.” “No, you were the thorn,” he says matter-of-factly. “And being honest, I didn’t know what Jane saw in you. I didn’t think you’d ever break a rule to give her what she wants and needs, and the fact that you did—it makes you someone I don’t mind hanging around.”
Our heads turn as Sulli suddenly fills the doorway, yanking earbuds out, drenched in sweat. “Uh, guys…is this about the fucking bang because that was me. I’m so fucking sorry.” She wipes her forehead with her toned bicep. “I was doing deadlifts and dropped the bar too hard. Luna slept through the noise, so I didn’t think anything of it.”
My mom snaps a glare at me through the mirror. “You’re not too verbose. Your words are an asset.” She speaks like it’s written in stone and blood and all indelible things. “And if they don’t like you, then that says more about them than you.”
“If they judge you that harshly after one meal, you don’t want to be loved by them,” my mom retorts. Lily nods repeatedly. “What Rose said.” Daisy looks at my mom. “Didn’t you throw wine on your mother-in-law’s blouse when you first met her?” My lips rise, remembering this story. My mom sighs at the memory, then flips her hair off her shoulder. “And I prevailed.” “See,” Daisy smiles at me. “You could throw wine on someone, and all could end miraculously.”
My grandma’s rosy cheeks are in a perpetual smile, and Nicola, my stepmom, sees me watching and mouths, we love her. I thought she’d fit in, but seeing it happen is something else. Surreal. Overwhelming. Conflicting—because I shouldn’t be emotionally invested in this picture.
He spreads his arms out to me. “Aren’t you going to give your uncle a hug?” I want to give him a right hook to the jaw. My glare intensifies. We’re both twenty-eight, and un-fucking-fortunately, he is actually my uncle. On paper. Not by blood. His older sister is Nicola Ramella, my stepmom who has a heart of gold. Tony and Nicola have a large age gap for siblings.
Woh
“I apologize, my beautiful gremlins,” my mom says, reaching the head nearest me. “For being five minutes late you all may—” She stops short, finally noticing the table. Her eyes go wide and her red lips part in shock. No one told her that Beckett would be here tonight. And I know she’s mentally counting each chair. How they’re all filled with each of her children. She fights tears, eyes reddened, and her hands brace the top of the chair, still standing.
“What a wonderful surprise, and I will excuse all of your chicanery this once.” To our dad, she says, “Yours, never. You trick me, Richard, and I will roast your heart on an open fire.” His grin only grows. “My heart is yours to do with as you please.” “Stab it.” She picks up a steak knife. “Roast it. Eat it.” My siblings explode in applause, drumming their feet to the floor. Palms to the table, the room beginning to rumble.
