Sinful Like Us (Like Us, #5)

by Krista Ritchie

“Is it weird that we both kissed brothers?” Sulli asks me. I’m about to mention how Uncle Loren and Uncle Ryke are brothers and their wives are sisters, but Luna already sing-songs to Sulli, “Our moms married brothers.” “Fuck, duh.” Sulli shakes her head and swallows more beer.

“Just be careful,” Maximoff tells her. “You know I will be,” Sulli nods into a smile. “He’s sexy, right?” Maximoff glances over at the bar and checks out Will, who resembles a preppy Ken Doll. “Yeah, he’s pretty hot.” “Who’s hot?” Farrow slides in, very casual and cool as he chews gum. He gives Moffy a once-over. “Me,” Maximoff quips, stretching his arm across Farrow’s shoulders. Farrow rolls his eyes. “You’re definitely cocky.”

Lmao

Farrow sucks in a breath. “Technically, you can’t read the future to know if I’m staying.” And then he looks to me. “I don’t love being the errand boy, but Omega wants me to tell you to stop giving your boyfriend ‘googly eyes’.” He uses air-quotes. I bristle. “I haven’t been giving him googly anything. He’s been giving me some sort of eyes.”

“Janie.” Moffy draws my attention back. Farrow raises his brows at me. “You were saying?” “Merde,” I curse. I’m making googly eyes.

Lol

Being a voyeur to love is easier than being in love, I think.

“Fuck,” Sulli curses in a sigh. “Thanks anyway.” She slugs his shoulder. He just nods. Strange. I squint at their interaction and taste more whiskey. Usually Akara would fling a strand of hair in her face or slug her back just as playfully. Sullivan puts two fingers to her lips. “What’s wrong?” Farrow, Moffy, and Luna watch too. “I’m just doing my job.” Akara fixes his earpiece.

Climb him, Jane. “I want you,” I whisper. “Jane.” “Thatcher.” I’m a drunken fool, but Flirty Jane doesn’t give a damn. I’m one second from straddling Thatcher when hands clasp my waist. Farrow pulls me back, and Thatcher shoots to a stance, his concern still on me. But the world rotates and blurs, and I try to cling to all the voices that pitch around me. “Did she just call you Thatcher?” O’Malley asks.

Omg

There’s a chance that Tony will insert himself in this situation. And I need someone to have my six so I can have hers.

Aw farro

Oscar uses comms, his voice in my ear. “I’m taking a piss. Don’t let Beckett hang around my baby sister.”

Farrow clicks his mic. “Can’t hold your bladder, Oliveira?” “I’m trying to save all the adult diapers for Donnelly,” Oscar quips. Donnelly laughs on comms. “Appreciation and all that.”

Farrow pops a piece of gum in his mouth. Casual as all hell, and as soon as Tony is in distance, Farrow puts a hand to his chest, stopping him in place. “Man, just let Banks take care of her. She’s comfortable with him.” Tony sizes him up. “So you’d rather I switch details with Banks then?” He jabs a thumb to the bar. “I can go look after Maximoff for you.” Farrow glares. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

I keep a platonic hand on her head. “She’s comfortable here,” I tell Tony. “She’d be more comfortable with me.” He starts to fucking smile. I’m gonna kill him. “We’re not testing that.” “Afraid she’d like me more than your brother?” He tries to shove forward, but Farrow stops him with another hand-to-chest. “I’m so sick of listening to your shit,” Farrow sneers. “Back the fuck off.”

“Haggis?” Farrow raises his brows. “You do realize the goal is to sober her up, not make her puke?” “Thank you for reminding me.” Hale sarcasm is thick. “Let me just swing over to McDonald’s down the street. Order a Big Mac, some fries, a goddamn milkshake.”

In the darkened corner of the pub, Luna Hale is dirty-dancing with Donnelly. The kind of sloppy dancing you’d see at closing times from trashed guys and girls. But her and him—they’re completely sober. He cups her ass with two hands, holding her like I’m holding Jane, only she bounces on his lap to the beat of the music, and he sings the blaring song with Luna.

Lmao

“Did you pack any lunchmeat on you?” Farrow asks me seriously. Which surprises me because Farrow and SFO have been ribbing me about the ham and turkey I bought when we landed. I’m six-seven. I’m fucking hungry during long travels, and yeah, I stuffed a package of lunchmeat in my winter jacket and kept pulling out slices to eat. Which is why they were losing their shit in laughter. And I caught my lip rising a few times.

“You could’ve made that a little happier, Jack,” Farrow teases. “Yeah.” Akara smiles. “Way to go, Jack.” “What were you thinkin’, Jack,” Donnelly pipes in. “Dammit, Jack,” Quinn sighs. “Yeah, fuck you, Highland,” Oscar cuts in playfully. Jack is smiling a hundred-watt smile. “I’ll take those as compliments, and honestly, this is one of the best seasons we’ve ever produced.

Banks tells me, “I talked to ma on the phone. She called your number.” Static breaks apart my brother’s voice. “She could tell I wasn’t you within the first three seconds.” My lip rises. “What’d she say?” I’m assuming he explained the twin switch. “She said, you’re a buncha dumbasses, but I love you both the most.”

Moments pass, her eyes closed, and right before she drifts off, she murmurs, “Thatcher?” “Yeah?” She seems to hold tighter. I cup her cheek. “I have you. You’re safe, honey.” I repeat the sentiments, and her body loosens. And into the silence, she breathes, “I love you.”

“You’re so fucking hard on yourself.” In a silent beat, deep understanding passes between us because he’s also tough on himself with most everything. “You’re just twenty-three, Jane. You don’t have to be perfect versions of the women who raised you.” My heart swells. “Women,” I repeat the word. “You included my aunts?” He nods once. “I know what they all mean to you.”

Aunt Daisy has taught me to use my voice, even if the world says stay quiet. Aunt Lily has taught me fierce courage, even on days when you feel lesser than. And Rose Calloway Cobalt, my mom—she’s taught me how to walk into a room full of men and never back down.

Very deeply, Thatcher tells me, “When they were your age, they were figuring out being in their twenties and in love—you’re allowed this part.” I cage breath. “This part?” “Of life,” he clarifies. “The stomach-flipping, head-scratching moments where you feel like everything is going off the tracks.”

“I’m just wondering why your boyfriend is screening my calls.” Thatcher fixates on the phone like I’m clutching a weapon, and if he blinks, it’ll detonate in my palm. I lift the speakers closer to my lips. “Do you have the right number?” I picture my dad arching a single brow. “Phone numbers aren’t that difficult to memorize, especially ones that matter.” I touch my smile with my fingertips. Thatcher matters to him.

“You said it’s statistically low that someone marries their first boyfriend or girlfriend. How does that work between you and me?” I’m confused until he adds, “You’re not my first girlfriend.” “Oh.” I flush. He nears. “I’m not as good at math as you, but in my head, it doesn’t make sense that our odds are different when we’d be marrying each other.” He blinks back something raw. “Hypothetically.” “Hypothetically.” I nod in agreement.

I draw her on my lap, careful with her leg, where a rock cut her from knee to shin. “He’s okay,” I assure Jane. “She’ll be fine, Maximoff,” Farrow says with certainty.

“It’s about the groceries.” I reroute to the beginning. “Because I want you around me every hour of every day. Not just as a bodyguard but as a boyfriend. In these small moments, I feel it tenfold. And I shouldn’t want it. I just shouldn’t. It makes me some co-dependent, weak-willed girl like all these people have theorized for years. I’m proving them right—and…and…” I can’t breathe.

“This is all wrong,” I tell him through frustrated, helpless tears. I wipe at my eyes. “I shouldn’t be treating you like this. I’m not capable of having a boyfriend.” At least, not him. Not someone I want this much. “Jane, it’s fine—” “It’s not,” I say, adamant. “We’re done. I’m done.” Oh God.

Wtf

saying?” I’m wide-eyed. “You’re breaking up with me?” “I am.” The words release quicker than I realize.

Wtffff

Thatcher adjusts his mic in his ear. “I meant what I said in the limo before this trip. I’m going to match whatever pace you set. If you want to break up with me, fine. We’re broken up.” I can’t read him. His tone is more authoritative and impassive than angry. “So that’s it?” I ask, hurt suddenly pinching me. I didn’t purposefully break up with him so he’d fight for me, but I also never thought he’d give me up so easily. “No,” Thatcher replies, seriousness pushing forth. “We’re going to talk more tonight. You’re overwhelmed right now, and I don’t want to push you. But if you think this discussion is over, it’s not.”

“What you just said—it’s the problem.” I don’t get it. “Why?” I ask. “Because I’m wrong?” “Because you’re right.” She fists her crumpled sweater, balled in her hands. “Because you’re making me feel better, and that’s the issue, Thatcher. You are helping me when everyone says I should be helping myself. These aren’t horrible comments about my weight or appearance or upbringing. They’re attacking my independence…and for me, that’s…” Tears well up in her eyes. “It’s your identity,” I finish for her, understanding fully now.

Pain twists her face as she nods. “I’ve never had to rely on a man for emotional support…I’ve never wanted that. But I find myself wanting your reassurance, your help, your everything. It terrifies me to know that want inside of me could turn to need, and there are moments I feel myself suffocating under the weight of that fear.”

My eyes scald. “Because I love you completely, Jane, and I want and need you during the worst and best moments of my life.” Her voice is a whisper. “You don’t have to placate me.” “What I said is true.” I fight emotion that fists my lungs. “I fucking need you, honey. I’d be going out of my mind with guilt if I couldn’t turn to you. So many times I’ve thought about you, and you’ve made me feel good about myself.” I stop there, a rock lodged in my throat.

“All I can promise is that I will love you and respect you, Jane. And I will never abuse your love or take advantage of what you offer me.”

she chokes out, “I want you back.” Light explodes inside my chest. Fucking disorienting me, and with no doubt, I say, “You have me.”

“Sorry I didn’t come home, old chap—” Maximoff rushes to his best friend and wraps her up in his arms. Picking her off the ground in a hug and saving her feet from the cold. “You’re okay?” “I’m okay.” She clings tighter to him. Farrow comes to my side, and we both watch the people we love embrace. They whisper to each other, and Maximoff keeps sweeping her from head to toe. Making sure she’s in one piece. “I never want to see him like that again,” Farrow tells me, his voice low. My chest tightens.

“But I just want to cover my bases where her brothers are concerned.” “You should worry more about Tony seeing the condom graveyard—and I’m going to be honest here: it’s not that you look like the aftermath of a hetero porn. You smell like one.” Noted. “I’ll take a shower before I see Tony.”

Lol

“I meant Oscar, Donnelly, Quinn…Akara,” Farrow tells me. “Omega.” I freeze, hand on my mic cord, then surprise leaves me in a breeze. “For Jane,” I realize. Farrow nods. “And you.” It slams me back. Almost hard to believe. Hard to accept. “You’re bullshitting me.” He laughs. “Fuck, I’d come up with better bullshit.”

“I can’t miss this fight,” Joana emphasizes to her brothers. Beckett tips his head to her. “Welcome to the Screwed Club.” Oscar’s eyes flash with protective heat. “Beckett, watch yoursel—” “We’re not in the same situation.” Joana cuts off her brother and spins on Beckett with angry brown eyes. “You’re a ballerina. I have a televised fight, and if I’m not there, I have to forfeit. I don’t have an understudy.” Beckett restrains a soft smile. She cringes. “Are you grinning?” “Yes,” he says honestly. “Look, I don’t have an understudy.” He stiffens more. “I have a douchebag, asshole who’s vying for my spot.

Cold sweeps inside like a mad, furious rage, and I block the slapping wind with a hand to my face. Until Thatcher steps in front of me and shields me from the freeze.

“If I were to die, I’d want you beside me too. And also Banks.” “Banks?” His furrow-browed confusion is cute. “You’d need your brother after I died, and I’d want someone there for you.”

“I’m revising what I said.” A smile spreads across my face. “Let’s hear it, then.” “If I were to die tomorrow, I’d also want Maximoff there.” For me.

I nod, easing some. “It does smell like Luna.” “She said she was winterizing the house, and I got hit with it.”

Lol

“I’m going to protect you. Sempre toujours.” I breathe in, shock and something stronger crashing into me. Sempre toujours. The first word is Italian, the second French. It means, always always. “Sempre toujours,” I repeat, letting the combination of the two sink in deeply.

“I had to tell your dad about Beckett.” My stomach somersaults, and I down another gulp of sharp whiskey. “Which part?” I lick the liquor off my lips. “That he wants a helicopter to fly him out of here? Or that we forced him on this trip because of his cocaine use?” Akara gives me an apologetic wince. “Both.” Merde. I fist the neck of the bottle. “He didn’t seem surprised about either,” Akara says. “But with your dad…” “It’s hard to tell,” I nod.

Fuck

“Banks is fine. He doesn’t want either of you to go call him.” Thatcher glares at the ceiling, then rolls his eyes. “He’s more concerned about you.” Akara passes back the whiskey. “Said to tell you not to be a dumbass or a jackass. But we both know it’s too late for that.”

“Hey.” I calm as soon as I see the chestnut hair and tattoos of Paul Donnelly. “Any of you know how to sew?” He raises a sweater, and I recognize the orange and green stitching as Luna’s handiwork. One she knitted for him in exchange for a tattoo design. “I pulled out a thread and now there’s a hole.” He seems laidback about the whole ordeal.

While Maximoff jogs past, Farrow gives him a blatant once-over, and we all watch Maximoff trip on a rug. Everyone laughs, and my lip begins to lift. “Jesus Christ,” Maximoff curses. “You didn’t see that.” “I definitely did,” Farrow teases.

“My answer is no. I don’t believe in love at first sight, not as much as I believe in fascination at first sight. Which I felt with you—which, you must know.” She blushes. “Right?” I shake my head. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t go looking for it,” I explain, my voice void of emotion. “Guys in my unit were playing a clip. I saw maybe three minutes.” I can barely even remember the images in my head. It was just another porno that my platoon laughed at or jerked off to. It didn’t mean anything then. Her jaw is unhinged. Completely fucking shocked. “You didn’t…” “I did,” I say again. “Oh my God.” She cringes, fingers steepled to her lips. “You’ve seen my parents having sex.” I grimace. “Yeah.”

Omgggggg

I run my fingers through my hair. “No, I didn’t jerk off to it.” “Because there were other people in the room?” Charlie asks. Jane groans and flashes me an apologetic look. I’m fine, honey. “Because I didn’t. It was ten years ago. If you want to know if I was hard, I don’t remember. Is that good enough?” “I’m satisfied with your answer, if Jane is.”

“I’m sorry, I just…this is wrong…and what if we’re just not right for each other?” My breathing does a weird dive. His nose flares. “I promise you we are.” He checks on Tony over at the door, then back to me. “I don’t know how to do this…” I drop my gaze. “I don’t want to break up with you again, but I just…” Thatcher is about to speak, but Charlie’s brows jump sky-high. “Again?”