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Sure enough, at Lane 1, the furthest from us, my cousin wears a pair of skull and crossbones socks (no shoes) and takes a running start before sliding down it. He skids to his knees and slams into the bowling pins. A few knock over and clatter. Jack films it. “Tom!” I yell. “Get over here!”
LMAO
“What’s fire bowling?” he asks my cousin. “Hear me out.” Tom gears up, holding out two hands like he’s ready to go into an intense conversation. “Douse the pins in gasoline. Light them on fire. Fire Bowling.”
😭😭😭
“Don’t call Papa Hale sir when you see him,” Donnelly says, tattoo machine in hand. “I did that after he found out I inked Luna’s hip, and I’m telling you, he grew a third horn. Looked like he could’ve impaled me in the throat and ripped out my asshole.”
😭
My smile stretches. “You’re drooling.” “I’m glaring.” He’s a human heart-eye emoji.
Donnelly tattooed a wolf with a pirate eye-patch, and two letters are inked on the patch. WS. Maximoff reaches me, and I rotate to face him so his gaze lifts to mine. And he tells me, “You broke one of your only rules.” My rule: never get ink that relates to a boyfriend. My only exception stands in front of me.
Connor is mental. He taught Maximoff intelligence, emotional restraint and confidence. Lo is emotional, the sarcastic, loving and empathetic pieces of him. And then Ryke is physical, all determination and stubbornness and unshakeable strength.
“Maybe watch a movie. Farrow has never seen Batman Returns.” “No DC at the table,” Lo snaps. “I swear to all living Marvel things, I grabbed the wrong child in the Home Goods store.”
I could look at the breathtaking landscape. I could look at the blue horizon and the clearest sky and the majestic views, but I can’t look away from him.
I smile. And I still can’t stop staring, not for a moment. He’s the iron-willed guy I saw at Harvard who needed all of me, and I had to wait years before I could give him everything.
“She put a Team Marrow bumper sticker on her car before we left,” Farrow says, scooping eggs onto his fork. I catch sight of his amused smile.
I cup the cold glass in my hand, and I hold his gaze while I quote, “‘I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life.’ I think about that whole passage every time someone says Marrow.”
To learn what life is really made of, the feeling of water slipping between fingers, the chilled glass in my hand, the wind that rustles your damn hair. And I think about how I feel these barest things every day with you. To live life at its most essential level so as to fully live.”
“It feels like every time I try to come up for air, someone else shits on you or me or us, and the only time I can breathe is when I’m looking at you.”
“I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry. I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I love you, you know I love you, right?” I didn’t think I needed to hear that, but maybe some part of me did. I breathe more, and I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “In every universe.”
the hales >>>>
You need to know that despite all the doomsdays and all the apocalypses—excitement still bursts in my chest. Right now. Because of him. I didn’t think I’d feel this tonight, not after everything, but here I am.
The Cobalts are going the traditional route and building a huge castle. Complete with four turrets and the structure has motherfucking windows.
ik they would have some big ass castle
Maximoff is about to stand, but his dad quickly tells his son, “I’ll bring him back in one piece. Sit. Relax. Eat a sandwich, you look pale.” He’s not pale at all.
“I think we’ve made it to Neverland.” “Neverland,” Farrow repeats, looking me up and down with amusement. His hand descends into the backpack. “Don’t lost boys stay young forever there?” “Yeah.” I loosen my lace, his eyes swimming against my eyes. “That’s too bad then,” Farrow says matter-of-factly. “Because I want to grow old with you.”
NAHHH NO WAY THEYRE BOTH PROPOSING AT THE SAME TIME
“And you said you wanted an in-your-face, overjoyed kind of love that knocks you backwards.” He takes a beat. “But our love is that and better. Our love is headstrong. It never yields, never dies. And when it knocks you backwards, it pulls you upright again.”
“There’s no one else, Farrow. You’re it. You’re the one, the only one.” His chest rises against my chest, and he nods, knowing. Feeling. And I ask him, “Marry me?” “Yeah,” he says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I’ll marry you, wolf scout.”
“Dum spiro, spero,” he reads the Cicero quote. His eyes well up again. On a day that rocked us both, he said he loved that quote. It was a quiet moment inside a storm. The memory is as tranquil as the quote itself. While I breathe, I hope.
Donnelly blows me a middle-finger kiss. And I won’t tell anyone but Maximoff, at least not to the full degree—but I missed these guys. Shit, like I really missed them. In ways that I didn’t think I would or even could.
awww he loves them
He looks proud to be standing between his dad and his uncle. And Maximoff—pure, wholehearted Maximoff—can’t even see how Lo and Ryke look even prouder to be next to him.
Dear World, thanks for listening. Love, Maximoff Hale
