Headstrong Like Us (Like Us, #6)

by Krista Ritchie

“You want anything to eat?” “The souls of my enemies,” she deadpans. I smile. “I’ll work on that.” I miss being home.

This living situation is temporary, but Farrow’s place in my life is permanent. That’s what breathes air into my lungs.

His instinct is to go with his gut, and I’m not even sure I have a gut reaction that doesn’t involve second-guessing myself.

same

“I dreamed of a winter wedding. The snow, the cold. That was one of the things I dreamed up at thirteen—when I didn’t know who I’d marry.” His eyes redden. “But I’m marrying you, and the way you exist in the sun is the purest shit in the world.”

“Some shit we’re still going to be uncovering in our eighties. It doesn’t mean you don’t know me, Maximoff. Or vice versa.” I cup his jaw while his hand warms the back of my neck. “You know me better than any guy ever has. You’re my person.”

In the garage, I close the tabloid and stick up for my friend. “Donnelly would treat her better than three mystery guys in a Manhattan club.”

I feel for Donnelly. If he risked our friendship to be with Luna, there’s a good chance he really likes her.

When it comes to our future together, Maximoff has always been the one with training wheels. I’m ready to blow past every stage just to be all domestic and shit with him.

“I just had a very giant heart attack,” I mutter under my breath to him. He drops his hand. “You didn’t.” “I did,” I say stubbornly. He leans close and stares ahead at Jane as he whispers to me, “I’m the doctor.”

Emotion surging like a tidal wave come to carry us to shore—years and minutes and moments washing down my body. And something else. Something that transcends time. A love that understands without sound or reason. And I feel one of the purest acts of love when Jane tells us, “I can carry your baby for you. I’d love to be your surrogate if you’d want that.”

“And”—she rubs her splotchy face—“if you’re thinking of using Farrow’s sperm, I’d be more than happy to donate my eggs.” Quickly, she adds, “Obviously I’m not trying to be the mom in this situation. I’m just more of an aunt, but at the very least, you’d have full trust in the egg donor, and as cousins, I share some DNA with Moffy, so it’s almost as though you’re having a biological child together.”

My eyes are on Farrow. Because he has his fingers threaded through his bleach-white hair, stunned. He moves off the wall, and I step back from Jane. He hugs her, and very deeply, he says, “Thank you.”

His natural brown roots growing in, his strong jawline, and his beautiful, earth-shattering cheek-to-cheek smile that some little kid should have one day. I lick my dry lips, trying to find the words. “How selfish is it that I want to see you in our kids?” “You’re very, very human.”

“Paparazzi, bodyguards—they’re like trees. I’m not going to count all of them every damn second. I’d never get anything done.” I’m a bodyguard, so he thinks I’m part of his little forest. I grin. “What?” “You wanted to climb my tree?” He looks simultaneously aggravated and infatuated. “No, you were never a tree, man.” His eyes dive into mine. “I knew you before you joined security. You always stood out to me.”

“If I go in, wolf scout, I’m taking you with me.” “Yeah?” His chest rises. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

My lips lift at a thought: I’m going to be his Winter Soldier. For decades. For life.

I laugh when I glance at the bulge in the breast pocket of his black suit jacket. Thatcher breaking security rules is one thing, but seeing him break bakery rules by bringing a kitten inside this establishment is entertaining as shit.

You should know that I can survive in any universe, but I only want to live in the ones with Farrow Redford Keene.

“Maybe I should look at your finger. You might need amputation STAT.” “And this is why I’m the doctor.”

bed together? It makes no damn sense. Jane clears her throat. “We…we were having sex in the limo.” My eyes grow. “Your dad’s limo?” Where she was born. She flushes. “Oui. His limo. It was a spontaneous…situation.”

Farrow buckles forward in laughter, amusement filling his eyes. Mostly looking at Thatcher. And strangely, the air lightens. Thatcher’s lip begins to hoist. “You had sex in your future father-in-law’s limo.” Farrow holds a stitch in his side, beyond entertained. “Man, you’re making it harder and harder for me to keep calling you a hall monitor.”

twenty-three, cautious to trust anyone, and he’s trusted me entirely, fully—to an intimate capacity. With his body. His love. And he’s my greatest love. The only man I’ve asked to marry me. The only man I’ve wanted to be with for a lifetime. Fuck, he’s my entire world, and I’ve vowed to protect him, even on the days where he says he can protect himself.

Lean muscle ripples across his torso like Maximoff is chiseled from marble. His dark-brown hair disheveled and lips reddened. He’s striking. Gorgeous. But I’ll always be more enamored with who he is—so good, so pure—and fuck, how he’s looking at me. Like I’m his world. His salvation. In lonely hours and hollow days and nights.

We look into each other, a silent, tender awareness that he’s let go, and I’d never hurt him. I want him to feel real, tangible peace in all areas of his life—for the rest of his life—and I know I can take him there. The fact that he’s allowing me is a profound feeling that seizes every fucking part of me.

“Lily heard some noise, and I came down to make sure Kinney wasn’t trying to communicate with the dead. She has school tomorrow.”

Farrow takes a step forward. “I’m going to become the guardian.” Donnelly shakes his head with force. “No, I can’t ask you.” “You don’t have to.” His face cracks, and Farrow steps closer to put his arms around him just as Donnelly breaks down, bringing his own shirt up to cover his face. Aristotle said it best. Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.

Farrow stares harder at the little guy against his chest. “If it were up to Maximoff,” he says to the baby, “your name would be Batman. So you should be crying in his arms.”

Farrow could take it personally that the baby hasn’t immediately warmed up to him, but instead he sees this as a challenge. Getting the kid to love him. Apparently, on Farrow’s quest to win him over, he’s throwing me under the bus.

“Joke’s on you,” I tell Farrow. “Batman i...

“But truth, it’s probably a good thing we don’t name him after Batman. My dad would do the whole ‘I refuse to call your son Batman’ thing and just refer to him as Bat….or Man. Jesus.”

I’ve never seen Farrow actively work that hard for someone’s affections other than my own, and he’d tell you he didn’t have to do much. Even though he’s without a doubt more obsessed with me.

“I don’t have many memories of my mom. He might not either.” I nod, stepping closer while Farrow is quiet. “I figure there’s a way we can honor her.” He tilts his head. “Ripley?” Ripley. His mom’s surname.

🥺🥺🥺

That’s not what barrels through me. Farrow is deadly aware that we have this kid because Tina Ripley bailed on him. She was in the hospital after a meth overdose. Most people would be furious at her. Villainize her. Farrow Keene wants to honor her.

Because my parents are addicts, and I understand, well and good, that addiction is a disease. It’s not a fucking choice—and this baby’s mom isn’t a villain for what she did. She just wasn’t ready to be a mom, and she wasn’t as lucky as my parents, who had money and resources and a support system in place.

His eyes exhume me and my eyes unearth him—and if he were anyone else, I’d shut down. I might be rigid in this moment, but I want to be vulnerable with him as much as possible, as often as possible. Even when it’s hard.

I guess I just really want his family to love him. Love that doesn’t hesitate or take a second-thought. It shouldn’t be that hard.

“I’m second to medicine. That’s how it’s always been, Maximoff, and I can’t wish for a different father because that means I care. And I don’t want to care about that fucker. I don’t want to hate him or love him or miss him. I want him to be nothing so when he does shit like this, I feel nothing.”

BOOOOO DR KEENE BOOOO

I can’t change Dr. Keene. I can’t make him value his son the way he should. But I can love Farrow for eternity. Love him with zero hesitation. Love him with no second-thought or condition.

Farrow has my name on his body. Somewhere, in another timeline, my sixteen-year-old self is hyperventilating.

Farrow is full-on grinning at me. He touches my arm and inspects my bicep, his fingertips electrifying my skin. “My name looks good on you.”

Magically, lube appears in his hand. Really though, he grabs the bottle off the ledge.

I was like wait what 💀

“Shit, I enjoyed that.” He’s eyeing me to ensure that I’m okay. “It was alright.” I downplay. He lets out a short laugh. “I think you mean it was a top ten.” “Bottom hundred.” I toss him the shampoo bottle. “Wow, you’re really lighting that honesty merit badge on fire.”

Not going to lie though, it sucks watching him sob and not being able to soothe him. I’m a doctor. Healing is kind of my thing.

💀💀💀

I flash a playful smile at Ripley. He stares at me with utter bemusement. Like I’m some alien, and he’s waiting for his wolf scout to bring him to Earth. What he doesn’t realize yet: Maximoff is the one living on another planet. But sure, if Ripley wants to rocket to Mars and grow a potato farm, Maximoff will be the first pilot to volunteer. And this little man would have to chin up because I’d be right there with them.

“Shocked?” I smile. Donnelly glances up. “Just thinking how nuts you are. You took in a white trash baby and now you want white trash as your best man.”

It had to be Donnelly. Only Donnelly. As much as Oscar means to me, he has a brother and a sister. Donnelly has no one, and he’s willing to take scraps and share. And fuck, I just didn’t want him to have to share this.

“Yeah.” I smile and stick a piece of gum in my mouth. “You’re an infection I can’t rid.” He laughs and rubs his eye. “You should call a doctor. Get that taken care of.” I chew slowly, still smiling. “I am a doctor.” “You must not be very good then, man.”

“Don’t obsess, do what you feel like, but be safe—and by that, I mean safe sex.” She bit at her thumbnail and smiled. “I got that, Moffy. Condoms, birth control, galactic aluminum penetrative protectors.” I winced. “God, that sounds painful.” “It’s for the titanium species.”

god I love her 👽

ELIOT Our mom is freaking the fuck out TOM We might actually see her die and resurrect as a ghost Aunt Rose received her invitation in the mail, and she’s not happy about the dress code. All white.

LMAO poor rose but also why would they do this 💀

Pain tries to puncture my lungs, my heart, every organ inside my body. But I just stand straighter. Rigid. Features on total lock-down. Ready to bear everything and anything for them. I’ll do it a million times over.