Headstrong Like Us (Like Us, #6)

by Krista Ritchie

What I’m trying to say is that it’d be difficult to avoid running into one of Maximoff’s one-night stands. I don’t really see it as a conflict if it’s a common occurrence.”

let me at him 😤😤😤

My ears ring. “You’re not serious.” He winces. “Like I said, I didn’t want to make you feel bad.” I swing.

😂😂😂

“I need you. Not just right now, not just yesterday—but long after this week, after I’m married. In ten years. Twenty. When you’re an old man, I’m still going to need you.”

“You’re my dad,” I say, choked. “And I don’t want my kids to grow up with you as a memory like I have of my grandfather. I need you here—and I promise that I’ll tell you shit from now on, if you promise you won’t ever see me as someone you can push away. Because I might have other people, but no one in the whole universe—in every fucking universe—could ever replace you from my life.”

Lily exhales a big breath and turns, her glassy gaze meeting mine and her son’s. An apology almost fills her eyes, but it fades. Because I start clapping with deep pride. Maximoff joins in, and others do too, the sound growing. She walks over to us, being led by applause from all directions. We hug Lily together.

There are reasons why Maximoff says his parents are the strongest people he knows. Why he believes in them endlessly and faithfully. Every time they’re kicked down, they crawl to a stance and fight towards courage. And I’m lucky as hell that I can call them my family.

I feel recklessly invincible. Powered by a stubborn, unshakable love that I ache to meet head-on.

He licks bright-orange dust off his thumb. “Aware. But I’m also a snack expert. I wouldn’t recommend this for anyone else.” He looks to our friend. “That means you, Donnelly.”

Oscar laughs, “No way you have Moretti’s size in your pocket.” Donnelly focuses back on Oscar. “Thatch can double wrap it.” I can’t help it—I’m fucking cracking up. Thatcher shakes his head into a long blink. Stunned him silent. Going to be honest, it’s not that hard.

“Feels like a thousand things are flapping in my fucking stomach.” Oscar pops another Cheeto in his mouth. “We call those butterflies, Redford.” “No shit.” I widen my eyes. “Make them stop.” “Can’t.” Donnelly checks his phone. “You’re about to get married.” “They’re not optional,” Oscar says. Thatcher’s quiet. A stern, serious look on his face. Honestly, I feel like if I asked him, he’d murder the butterflies for me.

love that 🥲

“The strap of my dress just broke,” my little sister says. “It’s white. It’s revolting against me.”

“I felt that way, too. It’ll pass once you see him.” Once I see him. Him. He means Farrow.

Honest to God, I feel like my joints are rusted. Like my body parts don’t work right. And I need him to help me feel light again.

I turn my head to the right. Instinctively. Expectantly. I look across the wicker chairs to the other procession line. And he’s already looking at me. Farrow smiles that knowing smile, one that says, you can’t take your eyes off me, wolf scout.

I try looking forward, but no part of my stubborn soul wants to abandon his gaze. I can’t. He realizes, and his chest rises as he walks. Same exact pace as me. Our eyes crash together again, and I’m weightless. Oxygen floods my lungs. I move freely, joints oiled. My gaze sears raw as the chorus to the song bleeds into the air.

And Farrow tries to glance forward. He can’t either. He’s drawn back by a magnetic pull, and he stares at me like I’m the only person on the cl...

His teasing smile only stretches wider. I never want to forget that smile. Not for as long as I live. Bury me in the ground with these memories. Send me to the underworld with his face engrained in my head. I’d be a happy man.

I glance at my dad. Wondering if I will fucking pass out. He gives me a sharp look and whispers, “Breathe, Moffy.” Breathe. Didn’t think of that.

“Moffy.” My dad’s voice pulls me, and he wraps an arm around my shoulder. I hug him tight, and before I can tell him I love him, he whispers, “You’ve made me so goddamn proud to call you my son.”

His eyebrow piercing rises as he gives me that look. You know the one. He’s the most beautiful sight in Capri, on this island. In every universe.

Lightning cracks the sky.

Thunder booms, and Farrow laughs into this overwhelmed expression, “Looks like you made an appearance after me.”

we’ve come full circle and I’m emotional 😭

We’ve always been headstrong, and there’s nothing I’d want more than to stand in the pouring rain with Farrow on our wedding day.

“I’m going to quote a philosopher, just to warn you, man,” I say softly. Farrow’s gaze sinks into me. “I was hoping you would.”

“‘Love is born into every human being: it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature.’—I never understood this quote until I met you. Until you filled the incomplete parts of me.”

“I was empty. So empty, and I didn’t even know it, Farrow.” That strikes me. How I could’ve gone my whole life without him. Without knowing what this feels like.

“You’re the person that my soul has been searching for because my head was ...

“Wolf scout.” His reddened eyes stroke my features. “You said that you didn’t know how empty you felt until you met me.”

“Well, I’ve been searching for you my entire life, and if someone told me that we’d been together before, in another time or place, I wouldn’t question them. I’ve longed for you before I even knew you, and now that I’ve found you, there’s not a single day I want to live without you.”

“Your love is the most precious, valuable thing to me on the face of this fucking world, and I’ll love you today, tomorrow, and decades longer. When we’re old men and smiling about yesterdays, I’ll still love you and your pure heart and your good soul.”

All around us is clapping and lightning and thunder. And I’d like to think Plato was right. That in the beginning of time, it was Farrow and me, and we were once whole together. Our souls united. But like all humans, we were split down the middle. Separate halves wandering around this universe. We found each other. And finally, together, we became whole again.

Oscar is acting strange as fuck, so I ask, “Care to share with the class?” He stabs his cake a few times. “I fucked up.” “You fucked up,” I repeat, dumbfounded. “How badly are we talking about?” “I asked Highland if I could kiss him.”

“I’m guessing it went poorly.” “Not just poorly, bro. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.” He sets his plate on the arm of the lounge chair and wipes his fingers with a paper napkin. “Mostly because I should’ve just asked if I could give him a blowie like a fucking adult.”

You know what, he stared at me for a full-second like I spoke fucking Thebulan from Luna’s tentacle smut.” Donnelly hops up on the balcony railing. “That’s my favorite smut.”

Thank you for giving the guy who has the world all the parts that he’s never seen or felt before.

I hear the bronze tray and strawberries clatter to the floor.

uhhh party foul wtf save the strawberries

Roses, candles, epic physical and emotional sex, eating leftover wedding cake in bed afterwards, showering together—watching a movie. Ordinary. Romantic. And timeless. It’s always been the little things.

“See you in two minutes.” “I might be gone for a decade, man,” Maximoff says as he heads to the house with the soda. “I could fall into a portal or walk into a fucking wardrobe and discover Narnia.”

Donnelly watches Arkham chase his own tail. He looks up at me. “I think your mini-horse is broken.”

Maximoff says the unbelievable words, “We’re adopting Ripley.”

Our eyes crash together, feeling the permanence. What we’ve hoped and desired and would’ve fought years for. It’s met us suddenly, quietly, and powerfully. We’re smiling and breathing. Existing together in this enormous world, and everything stills in a moment, in a second, at complete balance and harmony with him and me and our beautiful son. And this is it. This is our life. Absent of nothing and full of love, of that great, overwhelming something.

I think about how today is my twenty-fourth birthday. I think about how I fear a life where I don’t grow old, more than I fear getting older. And more than anything, I want to grow old with him. With my husband. And our son.

“You think Ripley will be more like you or me?” “Both.” He bites on a camelbak spout, lips quirked. “I have a feeling he’ll be headstrong like us.”

Dear World, thanks for the love. See you next time. Love your friendly neighborhood human, Maximoff Hale