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Despite not being on my detail anymore, Thatcher Moretti still looks at me like his sole mission is to shield me and ground me and build a fortress of peace around me.
It’s one of the greatest feelings I’ve ever felt. His love is raw, bottomless safety that deserves as much as I can give in return.
“The fact that you’ve lived out of a single drawer, then a bag for most of your life is precisely why you deserve the whole closet. At least let me give you 50%.”
a new bodyguard who acts like he’s a descendant of Hercules but is more like a fucking Potato Head,
💀💀💀
I’m frightened of loving a man to an overwhelming degree—to where I’d need to be loved by Thatcher. Necessity is life, and I’m afraid to need his love like I need air.
Connor has been approachable and easy-going. But I understand he’s no less deadly than the woman he married. The only difference is that Rose shows you her dagger, and he keeps his behind his back.
“You wouldn’t want someone who forced themselves on Jane to be put in jail?” “No, I wouldn’t.” My voice is deep and assured. “I’d want them dead.”
Rose nods strongly. “She was a very cute baby.” She squints at me like I’m up to some alleyway, goblin-sniffling plot, and I’m not.
“I know,” I tell him, not shying. “But I’ve been six-seven all of my adult life, and there’s not a single time I don’t think about the power I have in bed. Her safety is always on my mind. In every aspect of our relationship. Especially when we’re sleeping together.”
Thatcher stares up from Ophelia, brush in hand, and he tells Maximoff, “She’s excited and she’ll be good at it.”
Banks Moretti. My identical twin, my soul and conscience, someone I couldn’t live without. The sun could be crashing down on the world, and Banks would be right by my side burning alive to push it back into the sky.
But while we were fake-dating and sneaking around, we found an indescribable solace together. Point-blank, I wanted to tear myself open for Jane. No matter how brutal and gut-wrenching. I wanted and want to keep her safe from every cruel thing.
I’m head-deep, un-fucking-believably in love with this girl, and I would do anything for her.
“Where do you think you’ll end up? Heaven or hell?” He raises a shoulder in a stiff shrug. “I just know I want to be wherever you are.”
I need Thatcher—no. No, I’m an independent, self-sufficient woman, and I don’t need any man for affection and love and emotional support. I can still provide all of this to myself now that we’re together. Do not fall into his lap like a bird without wings, Jane. You’re born from lions.
you can lean on him for support though bbgirl 🥺
Love is a violent emotion. Full of fortitude and might, and I’m going to be destroyed under ours, aren’t I?
“This past week, I’ve just kept awful things Tony has said to myself, and I thought it’d make your job easier. I wanted to give that to you. I wanted to give you something. But I feel like I’m hoarding secrets from a ride-or-die, and it’s made me quiet around you, and I think you can tell.”
“You’re confusing the hell out of me, and I want to walk with you through this, honey. But I don’t know where you’re going.”
“I want you to hold me so badly,” I admit. I want you to swallow me whole.
“You owe me nothing for what I did. If you’d rather not be touched, I’d rather not touch you, Jane.” I love him. It chokes me. It throttles me. I don’t want it but I want it, and that is my tragedy. He adds, “I’m going to match whatever pace you set.”
“What if I pull you at a million different speeds? What if I slow and speed and stop and speed and slow? Are you prepared to grow exhausted of me?” My eyes burn. Thatcher doesn’t recoil. “I’m prepared to be with you at every speed, and there’s no way you’ll exhaust me.”
How strange and wonderful it feels to be seen—but for the right reasons. Not maliciously or perversely but adoringly. Lovingly. Protectively. Carefully.
I unleash the twin swap plan. By the end, Farrow is grinning so wide that his smile reaches cheek-to-cheek. “Just say it,” Thatcher cuts in. “You like breaking the rules for her,” Farrow tells him matter-of-factly.
As though the world falls hush around us, as though meeting the safety I’ve always craved has the power to stop time and grow impossible gardens. As though we’re Adam and Eve and whatever sinful deed we commit, we’ll commit together.
“Murder with the Cobalt fam,” Donnelly says through a mouthful of cheesecake. “Those who slay together, stay together.”
“Do not cower,” I coach quickly. “Do not avoid their eyes. Do not show fear. They’re little fiends that will chew you up like you’re nothing more than a three o’clock snack.”
The media talks about how we, Cobalts, are intelligent and witty. Poised and confident. But very few mention how deeply we feel. How Eliot can summon tears out of cold-hearted eyes. How Beckett can make your awed gasp feel like the last breath you’ll take. How Ben can harness your empathy so you do the right thing. How Tom can wake the dead things buried inside you. How Audrey can bottle love and romance like it’s life’s greatest necessity. And Charlie—everyone thinks he has no soul but his is just the darkest, deepest of them all.
Cobalts are a tornadic force you don’t want to fuck with. Out of the three famous families, they have the most power and can wield it with the snap of a finger.
Fuckbags after targets after shitheads surround her on a daily basis, and if they need me to prove that I’m not one of them, they don’t even need to command me to jump. I’ll already be off the ground.
“We’ve been through this. I have a strong love for myself, you know, but I recognize that classically, I’m not the world’s definition of beauty.” “You’re mine,” I said with power and force.
For fuck’s sake, I’m not even a lead anymore, and I just heard on comms that Winona and Ben got in a fight at Dalton Academy. She jumped on a senior’s back because he called Ben a crybaby pussy.
For all I know, this could be tarot and Beckett is about to read my future. Rich, poor—I don’t care. I just want her.
“My number is eight, and I want to footnote that it’d be even higher than Thatcher’s number if I felt safer with more one-night stands.”
hey me and Jane have the same number 💀
Beckett makes a what the fuck face.
of course he does 😂
“How would you like it if I cracked your ribcage and tore out your heart?” Charlie rips open the last buttons of his white shirt. Bare chest and toned abs in view. “Go ahead.” Eliot unpockets a switchblade, twirls the knife, and stakes it on the wooden table near Ben. “No,” Jane scolds. I tear the knife out of the wood and snap the blade closed with a quick hand. I shove the weapon in my back pocket. “Murder-blocker,” Tom quips. “The worst,” Eliot jokes.
“What happens if I vomit?” Eliot grins. “You’ll have to eat it.” “No,” I say at the same time as Beckett.
One more gag and she’s puking—she starts to. I cover her mouth with my hand. What I do for love and pussy.
Her cheeks radiate heat against my hand, and I’m more in love with this girl today than I was yesterday. I didn’t think that was possible.
“Am I sweating?” She tries to elbow a piece of hair. I tuck the flyaway behind her ear. “No.” You’re beautiful. Eating bloody rabbit hearts.
“Donnelly to SFO, I found the space babe.” Relief strikes, then confusion. How the hell did he find Luna Hale? Look—a part of me suspects that Donnelly eating Luna out wasn’t a one-time thing like they told Jane, but we’re both still keeping that secret for them.
“I give everything to ballet. My time, my body, my life. What have you ever given to something you’ve loved?” “I’ve given all of myself to my family,” I retort, tears burning my eyes. I’m the older sister. I carry the torch that lights the way, and if I drop it, no one behind me can see.
“You’re using drugs!” Her eyes bug. “We said we’d never take the easy out and use performance enhancers!” “Ballet is different than swimming.” “Fuck that,” Sulli cringes. “Jane is right. You didn’t tell me because I’m the one person who chose a sport over a childhood and I’m the one person who can tell you fuck your excuses.”
I’m fit for hell. Semper Fi. But Jane, the sweetest thing my arms have ever held—she’s fit for heaven.
I can’t apologize for falling in love with her. I can’t call what happened a mistake. Gun to my head, I’d repeat every moment so I’d have the boldest, smartest girl next to me—a girl I shouldn’t have. But she’s mine, and I might not deserve her but I swear to God, I’ll never harm her, and I’d give my life to protect her.
I know I’m not a prince. I’m not a king. But I’d treat Jane like she should be treated. She’s my princess, my angel, and my queen. Every morning and every night. I’d kneel at her feet and stand by her side.
“Admit what you did was wrong.” “I can’t do that.” Flat-out. I can’t. Being with Jane is the most right thing I’ve ever done.
“So you’re saying that if I find myself in a room alone with Luna Hale, and she comes onto me, I’m in the clear to fuck her. Right there. Down and dirty on the floor.”
Oscar looks murderous. Farrow straightens up more than usual. He places a hand on Donnelly’s chest. “Ignore the fucker.” “He’s been asking for a fight.” Donnelly boils. “He’s gonna get hit—” “Come here then,” O’Malley goads, but his attention veers to Luna’s bodyguard. “You can’t talk about my client like that,” Quinn growls.
“Talking is my specialty.” “It’s my weakness,” I say bluntly. “You’re not so bad,” she whispers. “And we even each other out. It’s why we make a disastrously good team.”
But when people see me—truly see me and not just the twin that I am—it’s a rush. Like drinking the coldest ice water on a scorching summer day, and I feel that every moment I’m with Jane.
