Alphas Like Us (Like Us, #3)

by Krista Ritchie

“Hey,” he says to the girl, “if you wanna come along, I’m going to Wawa for lunch⁠—” “Wawa?” she cringes. “Ew.” I almost laugh. Fuck, she hates Wawa. My smile stretches, decently entertained because Donnelly is going to lose his shit. “Ew?” he repeats. “Girl, Wawa is a great wonder of Philly⁠—” “It’s just a convenience store. God, I don’t understand people’s obsession with it.” Donnelly cringes. “Didn’t you see my tattoo?” He rotates slightly and flashes her the inked Wawa logo on his shoulder blade.

Donnelly tightens his loose cartilage earring. “Grandma Calloway sounds like a b…” His voice trails at Akara and Thatcher’s reprimanding looks. “…itch. Bitch. I meant bitch.”

He nears quickly, his shoulder brushing mine at the same height, and he says hushed but fast, “You have to win him.” I shelter the urge to ask why. “I don’t have thirty grand⁠—” “I’ll wire you the money,” Charlie cuts me off, not removing his intense yellow-green eyes from my face. “Farrow.” Urgency is on my name, but I can’t tell if fear, worry, or something else accompanies it.

“Before I had you and your siblings, your mom was the one good thing in my life. And I know I’m supposed to tell you how love conquers all. How we could move mountains together. But the love we had almost destroyed us both. Love is like having a mortal wound and you’re bleeding out and no matter how hard you look, you can never find the goddamn cut.”

“Love is pain, and you know what…I feel sorry for anyone who hasn’t met it yet.”

So you know Winona Briar Meadows as the fourteen-year-old fearless animal lover with a spirit as wild as the Meadows family. You follow her Instagram account that’s littered with nature photography and rock climbing excursions. If she’s not advocating for animal rights with Ben Cobalt, then she’s hanging with her girl squad and keeping to herself. You beg her to post more selfies, and you criticize her when she doesn’t. I know her as Nona, my cousin who could practically be my little sister. Who I used to carry on my shoulders through the Costa Rican forest while she snapped photos of every damn thing: the leaves, the dirt, the ants and the trees. She would bloody her hands, run off a cliff, and split open her heart for any living thing, and it’s terrifying. Fair Warning: I will decapitate you with a rusted blade if you fuck with this one, and she’ll probably try to stop me.

You know Ben Pirrip Cobalt as the sixteen-year-old savvy environmentalist who makes friends easier than all of my family combined. He’ll even be your friend. He’s probably already followed you back on Twitter or Instagram, and he’s liked your pictures ten or twenty times. You think he’s one of the coolest Cobalt boys—with his accessibility, his windswept brown hair, baby blue eyes, and pretty boy charm—and you wouldn’t be wrong. I know him as Ben, sometimes Pippy, the youngest and most free-spirited Cobalt boy and my little cousin. A guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, who hurts over sad, broken things, and I know he wishes more people paid attention to important causes than the beauty mark on his cheek. Fair Warning: I will hold you beneath a frozen lake and drown you if you fuck with him.

“Not because I wanted to. Your mom said I should give you some time alone with your one true pairing before I call.” Farrow is laughing at my mom’s wordage. My neck heats. Jesus. My mom loving us together plays too damn well into Farrow’s hand, and I lose every round when we go head-to-head. “My mom needs to take it easy,” I tell Jane. “Never. Aunt Lily loves love.” “She can love my love ten billion times less in front of my boyfriend. That’d be perfect.” I can almost feel Jane smiling on the other end. And I can also feel it fade in the quiet.

“Maximoff is stubborn. Not a new malady.” I give him a look. “If stubbornness is a sickness, then you suffer from it too.” His brows spike. “Never said I didn’t, and that’s cute that you want me to share your sickness.” Don’t smile. “I didn’t say that.” “Sure.” Keeping his mouth closed, his lips rise as he chews another chocolate.

‘The life of the dead is placed on the memories of the living. The love you gave in life keeps people alive beyond their time.’”

“Dum spiro, spero.” I circled that phrase in my paperback. I know he took Latin in college, but I ask anyway, “You know what that means⁠—” “‘While I breathe,’” he translates, “‘I hope.’”

“You told your dad you’re naming your son Batman.” My eyes pop out of my head. “No I didn’t.” He has to be fucking with me. “Yeah, you did,” Farrow smiles wide. “Your dad asked you, what son? And you said the one in the Batmobile.” I blink slowly. “I killed my dad. He’s dead, right? Death by Batman talk.”

“Your dad is alive,” Farrow says easily, “but he said your son sounds like a little prick.” I nod stiffly. “That’s definitely something my dad would say about a kid named Batman.” “I think you mean your kid,” he corrects. “No,” I shake my head. “I wouldn’t name my kid Batman. Can’t be mine.”

“I’m alive,” I say with a sharp breath. “Sadly,” Charlie quips. “Charlie,” they all chastise. A pretentiously coy grin plays at his lips. “Only joking.”

Purring, Lady Macbeth collapses and rolls on her back. “She’s slow and old,” Charlie says to Jane. “I’d give her two more years maximum.” Jane looks murderous. “Charlie,” I snap. “Lady Macbeth, come here, my love,” Jane says quickly, trying to cajole the cat away from Charlie. The cat looks up at the ceiling. “And she’s deaf,” Charlie notes.

“Downside: Maximoff will go into big brother mode for the rest of the night if his little sister is high.” “He’s probably already there,” Donnelly tells me. “I saw her drinking Four Lokos while you were upstairs.” I roll my eyes. “I love that girl, but fuck.”

Friends make long days feel good, but it’s the simple, little things that make the bad shit feel nonexistent. I just want to crawl into bed next to my boyfriend. Simple. Easy.

He tries to marbleize his features. Tries to be her strong unshakable big brother. These parts of him are so intrinsically Maximoff Hale that I wouldn’t want him to change. He loves people so overwhelmingly, and he cares. Shit, he cares more than anyone, and when people need him to be their everything, he is always there.

Akara is playing with her chocolate brown hair, and he coils a long strand over his upper lip in a fake mustache. Sulli cracks a smile and shoves his chest.

Akara laughs lightly and whispers to Jack, “She thinks she’s a mermaid. You know, no swimming for one week means her legs grow back.” “Hey, there is some fucking logic in the mermaid debate,” Sulli tells Akara. “I love water. Mermaids love water. Therefore I am a fucking mermaid.” Akara ties a piece of her hair in a slipknot. “Sharks also love water.” “They do,” Jack agrees. “And eels. Stingrays. Manatees.” “Salmon,” Akara whispers. “Walruses⁠—” “Hey, maybe I’m a fucking walrus then,” Sulli jokes in another loud whisper. “I could also be a mermaid too.” Akara loosens the knot in her hair and gives her a look. “You’re not a walrus, Sul.”

She unzips her purse and procures her pepper spray canister while marching to the door, guarded by Thatcher. Jane reaches him and lifts her chin since he’s a whole foot taller. “Excuse me, Thatcher, but there are people I need to have words with on my best friend’s behalf. Move aside.” Yeah, alright, I’m smiling.

Jane clears her throat. “Mr. Moretti,” she tries again, “I need to go break a few dicks. Can you please step aside?” Her angry face crinkles her nose. “No—”

“When I love someone,” he says in a rough whisper, “I love them proudly, and you deserve the achingly normal, romantic shit more than anyone. Everything you’ve never had. All the pictures you post, all the videos you do on your own, I want to be in them—and it’d kill me not to give you that. Especially now that we’re public.”

“He loves me,” I tell Farrow, patting my Basset Hound’s torso and keeping his four paws on the ground. “I’m not surprised,” Farrow says as he glances at family photos hung on the foyer wall. I stand up, rigid. “Because I’m easily lovable.” He gives me a pointed look. “Because dogs love everyone.”

My dad’s brows scrunch at me. “Did your mom and I not teach you the art of being a couch potato? Jesus Christ, I’ve truly failed as a parent.”

“Did mom cave and clean your room for you?” Xander snorts. “No way,” he says. “She said if I didn’t clean it, I’d have to do inventory at Superheroes & Scones.” He shuts his paperback. “I think…I really scared her last time. She’s been super strict again.” Last time. Where he locked his door and retreated to a low point that scared pretty much all of us. It’s hard to touch that memory. The one where I was on tour and received the phone call from Kinney.

“I’m just some guy,” I remind him. “No,” Maximoff says, firm and final. “You’re the guy.”

“We’re getting our Meredith back.” He slow-claps. I smile. “Man, you know I’m a Christina.”

Jane lifts her blue eyes to him. “I can live fine without falling in love, so I can live just as easily without a penis.” Farrow arches his brows. “You love sex,” I tell my best friend. “I love to masturbate.” Jane sips her coffee again. “Same,” Luna nods.

My dad raised me to be like Ryke. Because he loved his brother more than he loved himself.

“Happy Birthday.” I drop a necklace in her palm, a cursive pendant spells: merde. She’s distracted a little since her bodyguard is bleeding, but her face brightens as she says, “A shit necklace.” “Love it?” I ask. “Oui.” She presses the necklace to her chest,

“Moffy,” she replies. “I’m with Aunt Lily here, take a deep breath.” My mom nods vigorously. “Oxygen is good for you.”

And before Kinney darts away from the booth, she stretches over Farrow and flings her arms around me in a short hug. “I’m sorry. I was the turd this time,” she tells me. And then she looks to Farrow. “But not to you. You were late.” She skips off at that, and Jack follows my sister to film Holly and Kinney greeting each other. I’m about to apologize to Farrow, but he’s laughing hard. “God, your siblings.” I love him. I love that he loves my siblings, even when they’re emotional and wound up and taking jabs left and right.

“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.”

“Luna, fuck this fucker,” I say, grinding my gum beneath my molars. Maximoff has been afraid that her new boyfriend is the cause of Luna changing, and in four words, his fear has been confirmed. “This guy wants a basic bitch. Go let him date a basic bitch,” Donnelly says while he finishes my ink. “Don’t turn into one.”

“He’s not all bad. He gives okay head.” I pop another bubble. “Okay head sounds like bad head.”

“If you’re just lookin’ to be eaten out, I’ll eat you out⁠—” “Hey,” Maximoff cuts in on the bottom stair, eyes narrowed. His dark hair is wet from a shower, but he’s already dressed: jeans and a green crew-neck. “What the fuck, Donnelly?” He shuts off his machine. “I like eatin...

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.

“No DC at the table,” Lo snaps. “I swear to all living Marvel things, I grabbed the wrong child in the Home Goods store.” His eyes almost soften when tells me, “I lost him in the toilet section carrying around a plunger in aisle four.” “I was three,” Maximoff explains to me. “I thought it was a sword.”

“In other news, I was offered a condom sponsorship this morning.” Ryke almost spits out his water. “You have seven fucking kids.” “Royal sperm,” Lo quips. “Don’t fucking encourage that,” Ryke says and points at Connor’s billion-dollar grin with a butter knife.

Maximoff makes a face. “Where the fuck are these questions coming from?” I watch as Lo digs into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. “Questions for the Overly Tattooed Boyfriend of My Perfect Son Dot Com.”

I’m going to propose here. This five-day vacation with Farrow—God, it’s hands-down the most romantic of my life. I have the ring. I just need to wait for the perfect moment.

“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.

Eighteen-year-old Tom and Eliot jump out from behind the mini bar, trying to scare him, and their dad just blinks at them. Unfazed.

I love Lily Calloway, and she’s one of the closest things that I’ve had to a mom. So no, I won’t let this fucking old bat try to drag Lily or Lily’s son down.

“I told him the truth,” she says irritably. “I offered to raise him in my home while Lily recovered from sex addiction, and you both rejected that offer. He can’t be blamed for how he’s turned out⁠—” “Jesus Christ, you’re going to break her goddamn heart,” Lo says, shaking his head in disbelief with the same shocked disappointment that struck Maximoff.

“You’re off the damn boat,” Lo snaps. “This family has no room for your hate or judgment. I’ve told you that before. Go straight down to the rib: it’s the smaller boat that’ll take you to the city. I’ll have a stewardess pack your bags.” He’s about to leave but then he stops and turns back. “If you try to talk to Lily before you go, I will make sure your tombstone reads here lies Samantha Calloway, the worst goddamn mother in all of the century. And don’t fucking kid yourself, I will do it.”

And what are you even trying to protect me from?” He inhales sharply. “Myself? You can’t protect me from myself. It’s up here.” He points to his head. “It’s in here.” He jabs his cell to his chest. “It’s bigger than you or me.

“Summers,” I say with the shake of my head. “You could tell me to rot in hell, and I’d still overwhelming, unconditionally be there for you and love you—there is nothing you can do to push me down. Alright?” Xander rakes his hand over his face, hot tears pouring out. “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.”

He murmurs, “I can’t live without you…” My eyes try to well, and I whisper, “I love you.” I open my stance for Kinney and Luna. “All three of you.” And our sisters join the hug. My arms envelope my younger siblings, and I can feel them cling onto me.