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Banks cuts me off midway through. “Those idiots are as sharp as marble—they won’t be able to tell a difference if we both have busted lips.” Yeah. “So someone needs to hit me in the mouth,” Banks states. I barely nod, neck stiff. “It can’t be you, Thatcher.” Banks sounds adamant.
I turn to Farrow. His lip rises, entertained at the absurdity of this situation. “You really want me to hit your brother?” “I’m not forcing you,” I tell him. “But yeah.” I trust Farrow. I’ve always trusted him. And I need him. “Okay.” Farrow slides off his silver rings from his right hand. His smile grows. “Shit, this is not how I thought today would be going.” Banks begins to smile and kneels on the tile. “Just don’t knock my teeth out.”
“You’re not the Moretti brother I’ve wanted to uppercut,” Farrow says lightly. “Your teeth are safe.” His joke alleviates some tension. My lip wants to lift.
We return to the mats where the meeting is taking place, and the team quiets and zeroes in on my brother’s swollen mouth. Sinclair grimaces. “Which one of you shit-tickets hit him?” “I fell, sir,” Banks lies. SFO is smiling.
“You fell?” Sinclair knows my brother is bullshitting, but he nods and says, “Stop tripping over your damn feet, gent.” “Yes, sir.”
He’ll be sixteen this month, on Christmas day, and I’ve been waiting for him to make it there. Because my older brother never did. And if I do anything in my life, Lord, let me have this. Helping Xander live when I couldn’t do the same for Sky.
His mouth falls. “You really don’t think you’ll get caught? You two don’t look that much alike, man.” The corner of my lip inches upward, just slightly, because Xander genuinely believes Banks and I look different. “That’s probably because you grew up around us. For other people it’s harder to tell the difference. Even worse when we’re not standing together.” “But my parents will definitely know.” “They won’t.” I don’t dig into those details, but enough confidence encases my voice that Xander starts frowning. “Wait, did they get you two wrong?” I don’t want to lie to him, so I say, “A few
...more
“Hey.” I extend an arm and block the door before putting a light hand on his elbow. “It’s normal—” “That’s not alright.” A thousand emotions pour out of his expressive eyes. “They’ve known you and Banks for years.”
I’m good at multi-tasking, but that girl could surpass the hell out of me every time. I linger on that thought and almost smile. Together we could juggle the world.
“You want the whole list?” He snorts out soda in surprise, then wipes his nose. “There’s a list?” I go ahead and rattle off names. All of SFO, Jack Highland (an exec producer of the docuseries), and the older famous ones: Jane, Maximoff, Charlie, Beckett, Sullivan, and Luna. Mainly everyone who joined the FanCon tour. Xander blinks. “Uh, that’s not a secret if that many people know. It’s information.” He crunches the can in his hand. “As the great Varys would say.”
“Do you think Donnelly is bored? Being on my detail, I mean.” My brows knit, caught off guard. “Why would you even think that?” Xander releases the blind and glances back at me. “Because he used to be Beckett’s bodyguard. And before that, Tom’s. So he’s used to hanging around ballerinas and musicians rather than just sitting inside all day and staring at a wall.” Xander shrugs. “And like I don’t even go to Dalton Academy, so there’s no high school drama he can soak up. I’m just boring, so by process of fucking deduction he’s probably bored.”
Xander opens his arms wide. “Exactly. 99% of the time, you’re protecting me inside my own damn room. And we both know that the threats are mostly just me.” I unscrew my water, muscles stiff as we ride down this road. I’ve seen Xander at some of the lowest points. I’ve tried to pull him up. I remember him at eleven. How he couldn’t get out of bed one morning. He was crying, sobbing, and could barely breathe as he said, “I don’t want to be here.”
Thats sad
Xander huffs. “You can’t say that. If they let you back on Jane’s detail, you’ll take it. And I get it. You should.” He inhales a sharper breath. “I just…you know I thought if you were going to be a part of the family, you’d be a Hale.” He shrugs. “Marry Luna or something.”
I slowly screw the cap onto my water. “I wish you were my little brother, but you’re someone else’s.” It kills me to say that out loud. “Maximoff and even Farrow will be there for you for the rest of your life when I can’t be.”
“Just so you know,” Xander quickly adds, “I like that you and my cousin are together.” He picks at his fingernail nervously. “I was hard on Moffy and Farrow, and I hated that I was—and I don’t want to do that again. I know Jane looks happy. You seem happy too, and I can handle this.” He mutters under his breath to himself, “I can handle this.”
Xander nods more, then hops back on the skateboard. “Hey, can you not mention to Donnelly that I’m worried he thinks I’m boring?” I hold back a small, fleeting smile. “Yeah.” Donnelly might actually be good for him. Even if Xander goes outside just to impress a bodyguard, it means he’s braving the world.
I peel the paper off mine. “Where’d you rack out last night?” I whisper to Donnelly. I heard Epsilon threw his luggage on the lawn,
Wtf why
I lean on the desk and lower my voice. “So you didn’t sneak into Luna’s bed?” He chokes a little, then shakes his head. “Nah, man.” He glances quickly at Xander, then back to me. “It was just that one time—”
We sift through the other tabloids. Only pictures of Maximoff and Farrow are cut out. “I can explain.” Our heads swerve to our client. Xander stands close, breathing hard. “Those aren’t mine. They’re Kinney’s—she had this great idea for Moffy and Farrow’s Christmas present this year. And it requires that.” He points at the tabloids. I frown, confused as all hell. Donnelly grins. “You’re making a collage?” “Yeah.” Xander cringes. “I know, it’s dumb—” “It’s dope, man.” Donnelly rises with me. “Farrow will love this shit.” He laughs.
Before we leave Hell’s Kitchen, the Moretti brothers plan to swap clothes in a restroom, and when they come out, Thatcher will pretend to be Banks and Banks will be Thatcher. Igniting the twin switch.
He rubs his mouth, brows knitted. “Do you not want us to be here?” “No,” I say quickly. “Not at all.” “Do you not want me to be here then?” “No,” I emphasize, my stomach lurching. “You have no idea how much…” I exhale, my pulse hiking to devastating speeds. “…how many times it’s dawned on me and overwhelmed me—that Moffy and I have fallen for two men who fight to help us protect who we love.” My eyes burn. “Not just half-heartedly or out of loyalty to us, but because you deeply love our siblings and cousins. And if we weren’t here, you’d still fight for them as deeply as we would, and that is
...more
Donnelly inked every single one of Beckett’s tattoos, and all are flowers from roses to daisies to lilies and poppies, as homage to our mom and aunts.
drawer. He tugs them over his waist, and then he grabs his leather wallet. “You’re not leaving without us,” Charlie says hotly. Beckett lets out a pained laugh. “You’re one to talk, Charlie. How many times have you ditched this family?” Charlie looks to me, needing an assist.
When he drops his hand, he zeroes in on Thatcher and Farrow who block the doorway. I can tell he’s hurt and confused. “You plan to have your boyfriend drag me onto a plane? Is that it?” I slowly shake my head. “No.” He frowns. “You can’t force me—” I snap a fuzzy blue handcuff on his wrist, and the other end, I lock onto mine. “Congratulations, you’re now very much attached to me.”
Lol
Beckett is forced to sink down beside me. “Where’d you buy these?” He touches the handcuff. “A sex shop?” “Yes,” I answer, unabashed. “The girl working there was very sweet too.”
Beckett stares ahead in deeper thought, and my lips gradually fall to a line. He takes a tight breath before turning to me. “So you really believe I’ll run down the aisle past your six-foot-seven boyfriend and bum-rush the only exit that has more than three massive bodyguards climbing on board?” “Yes.”
“I’ll uncuff us once the plane starts.” That was always the plan at least. He looks straight ahead, not at me, while he speaks. “You mean, you’re not afraid I’ll find a parachute and jump out mid-air?” “Well, now that you mention it,” I banter, trying to lighten the mood.
I eye Thatcher. His strong gaze returns to me. For some reason, my heart is beating wildly, uncontrollably, and I can’t slow the pace. “Would you mind…” Breathe. I inhale. “…being handcuffed to Beckett for the next ten minutes?” Thatcher is already nodding. “I’m good to go.” I look to Beckett. “There. Banks can go to the restroom with you. As far as I know, he’s not your sister.”
I have enough room to do push-ups, sit-ups, and throw some jumping jacks into the mix, and usually, I’d ignore the luxuries and focus on my duty. But Jane is my girlfriend. This is the Cobalt family jet, affectionately nicknamed Heathcliff by Audrey, which outsizes all the other private planes and can comfortably carry all three famous families. It’s also outfitted with four bedrooms, five lounges, a twenty-person dining room, cinema and fitness area.
Wtffff
Leave it to Maximoff Hale to transform the work of scouting a wedding location into a vacation for other people. He invited his family, security, and any plus-ones who wanted to journey to the Scottish Highlands for a week.
“And I want to give Jane her baby blanket I’m crocheting. I should be finished by then.” I didn’t flinch. Jane went wide-eyed. “Oh, I’m…I’m not pregnant.” “It’s not for now,” my grandma said. “I already made Thatcher one, but now youse can have two for the day you marry and have babies. I might not be around.” “Grandma,” I said. “Don’t talk like that.” “Hush now, I’m old. When I go, I’ll go, and you’ll have these things to remember me by.”
up, Jane looked more curiously at me. “Has she crocheted your past girlfriends baby blankets?” “Hell no.” “Oh.” I didn’t expect that reaction. My pulse ratcheted up. “She likes you.” She can tell I love you.
I realized then that Jane believes there’s a greater chance of us being a short-term couple than a permanent one. “How is it rational that I’ll dislike you in six months when I love you now?” I asked point-blank. She smiled, then frowned, then winced. “Anything could happen…I suppose.”
She lingers and eyes the tattooed, shirtless, and lean but muscular ballet dancer next to me. He rests against the bathroom door. “I’m Beckett.” He nods in greeting. “I’d shake your hand, but…” He hoists his cuffed wrist and tries not to jerk mine. Jo’s brows rise. “Kinky.” He speaks calmly. “If it were kinky, I’d be enjoying it more.”
“How many times have you used that line?” “It’s not a line.” He studies her in a quick sweep. “Believe me, you’d know if I was using a line on you.” Intrigue sparks her brown eyes. “Why is that?” “Because you’d already be in my bed.”
breath, I whisper to Beckett, “You want to keep your balls, don’t hit on Oscar’s little sister.” “It’s okay, Banks.” Jo fits on her other backpack strap and stares right at Beckett. “I don’t speak douchebag so I didn’t hear a thing.”
All the while Beckett watches her ass as she goes. “Don’t,” I warn. “I wouldn’t hurt her.” “I never said you would.” He might think I’m protecting Jo, but I’m trying to protect him. He doesn’t need SFO on his ass. “Oscar and Quinn are going to kill you if you even look at her sideways.”
“This place is super creepy,” Sulli says under her breath, the wallpaper deep reds and greens, a winding banister leads to the dark upstairs, and old black and white photographs hang on the walls. Doily cloths are absolutely everywhere. “I love it,” I announce. Oscar passes me. “Retro Granny Realness.” He raises his hand for a high-five, and I tap his palm with a smile before he treks upstairs.
He nods, slipping his phone in his back pocket, and his forest-green eyes ping from Thatcher to me, back to Thatcher, then me. Under his breath, he says, “You two should…” He makes a motion with his hands for us to separate.
“Alright.” Maximoff trusts us, and he smiles at me and leans in close to whisper, “Have fun with your boyfriend.” I smile brighter. “I will. You have fun with your fiancé.” He grimaces, crinkling his nose. “I won’t.” I laugh. Maximoff looks lovesick and Farrow isn’t even in the kitchen.
My brows jump. “So it’s going to happen?” I raise my hands. “Just for clarification. Because it’s important that it does happen—I want it to happen, I mean.” I’m word vomiting, and I stop as Donnelly strolls into the kitchen. He carries two woolen tartan blankets, plaid with a red base and deep green lines. “Want what to happen?” he asks us. “Nothing,” I say. “Absolutely nothing to happen. It was a figure of speech.” Donnelly frowns. “Really? ‘Cause I thought you were talking about sex.” He walks off ever so casually like he didn’t just explode a miniature bomb at my feet.
Lmao
I shake my head. “I deserve hell.” “You deserve to be happy,” Jane combats with so much conviction, and I hear my grandma’s soulful voice—be happy.
“My cock is yours, but I’m not a sex toy. I’m better because I love you, and I will fuck you with nothing less than love, Jane.”
Jane blows out a measured breath. “I don’t need your love.” It sucker-punches me.
What rhe hell jane
We’re both at war with ourselves. I force down a raw emotion that I’ve never felt before, not like this. I’m realizing in my attempt to punish myself, I’m pushing her away from me and towards whatever’s been pressing her lately. I’m going to lose Jane if I keep this same masochistic course. It’s all or nothing. And I want all of her. I always have.
“Would you rather survive with me or without me?” She clutches my biceps tighter. “With you.” My muscles sear in magma. “Would you rather live with me or without me?” “With you.” Then what are you so afraid of, Jane?
“Janie.” Moffy scoots closer on the tufted leather sofa. “It’s pretty much normal to need the person you love.” I slip my frilly pen in a binder pocket. “Do you feel as though you need Farrow?” “Yeah.” He nods a few times. “Christ, I think I needed him before he even joined security.” He makes a face. “Don’t tell Farrow that.”
“But regardless, you can still survive on your own without Farrow. Correct?” He cracks a knuckle, lost in thought. “Maybe, but it’d be…” Grief clouds his eyes. “I don’t know. It feels like death.” “God,” I murmur. “I don’t want to feel like I’m dying if my boyfriend isn’t with me.”
“He said he’d go at whatever pace you set,” Moffy reminds me. “He’s here for the long haul, so if it takes you a millennium to blurt out what you need to, he might still be around.” “I know.” Thatcher is too good for me and my insecurities.
“Weirdly, yeah. He’s good to you, and he makes you happy.” He nods. “But if he hurts you, I’ll slit his throat with a hacksaw—a rusted hacksaw.”
