Unlucky Like Us (Like Us, #12)

by Krista Ritchie

“Just don’t give up on each other,” Lily suddenly says, and I realize she’s gazing at the last sight of Luna too. “Even if it’s hard to wait it out. It’ll be worth it in the end.”

“You were upset. Being emotional doesn’t mean you’re immature.

and I’ve fallen so deep for her, I can’t even crawl out of the hole I’m in. I just want to live there with her.

Our differences are like unopened books begging to be consumed. As far as I go, I’ve never been read front-to-back by anyone, but I’d check out a library card just to read all of her. She’s the writer, though. I’m sure her insides are a whole lot more eloquent than whatever’s living in me.

She has a hand on Orion’s furry belly, and she gives me the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. “I’m really glad we’re still friends.” I hate this so much. “Me too, sad alien.”

Question of the Day: Can I take Luna to the Fanaticon Convention in December? Is a butterfly kiss considered a real kiss? Is Ryke Meadows’ secretly Loren Hale’s hit man?

I think they’re lucky to have found love that’s worth pushing through all havoc. Love that endures together is the toughest love. The strongest. I want that.

I want love that survives with me. ‘Cause I know I’m gonna survive in the end. No matter what.

like I’ve hopped in Luna’s spaceship and flown away. I wish.

He’s building another family. He’s got Sulli and Banks and a baby on board. But SFO is my only family,

Akara looks sympathetic but firm. Thatcher just looks pissy, but that’s his normal face.

“We can do everything alone, you and me. Because we have done everything alone, Donnelly. See, I always thought our independence was a strength.” He pauses. “But it’s not always one. We’ve just learned how to live without the things we really need.”

SFE looks at me like I’m the scum of the earth, and I hate feeling like a worm.

But I’m not penciling in caring about their feelings in my daily planner.

“The PIs missed two of his grandfather’s brothers,” Connor says. “They’ve been fired.” Damn. “You fired my uncles?” I joke. Connor skips over my weak shot at humor. Tough crowd.

Loyalty has been a strength of mine, but to be loyal to the people I care about, I need to betray my whole family. A family who’d sell me out so fast—I’m more than aware of that.

“Breathe.” “I’m breathing.” “You’re sweating.” “I’m doing that too.” Concern tightens his eyes on me. “How’s your pulse?” he whispers. “Racing away from me,” I murmur. “You wanna catch it, Dr. Hale?”

“You can’t smoke in here,” Connor says immediately. “I have a wife who’d already love to rip your head off your ugly shoulders and feed your testicles to piranha.” “Her exact words,” Lo informs me with a dry smile. Rose hates me.

“Don’t cross the demon or you’ll get clawed.” Connor tips his head to Lo. “You know how that feels best of all, darling.” Lo touches his heart.

Connor stares straight through me. Like he can see every organ and blood cell inside my body. No way that’s possible, but if someone had X-ray vision, guess I’d say it’d be him. He knows I’ve tattooed his son. He knows I’ve been Beckett’s friend. He knows we were friends. He’s never put up a stink about it like I’m a bad influence. Never scolded me. Never condemned me. And now, his wife hates me, and he’s still looking straight through me.

“Next time you have pertinent information regarding my children’s safety and you don’t tell me until it’s too late, Rose will be the least of your worries. Understood?

“For Christ’s sake, Connor, he’s going in my car. I’m dropping him off. I’m picking him up. If you have a problem with that, take it to your god, whoever that may be. And if it’s yourself, there’s ten billion mirrors in your mansion, have fun.” I’m too surprised to laugh.

Lo told me to “relax” when we got in the car. Doing this thing called listening to Loren Hale is as comfortable as wet socks, but I can’t say he’s thrown me to the wolves yet, not when he’s sitting beside me in the driver’s seat.

Lo rolls down the window, glaring at me like a screw is loose. “Never do that again.” I flash him the rock on gesture, not lingering.

Memories aren’t all bad. Some comfort me. These ones also guide me. She’s why I’m here.

I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. I’d do anything to be with her.

I see him at twenty-two bent down to my eight-year-old height while I’m crying about Mom screaming an ear-splitting scream in the bedroom. She was hallucinating. Hadn’t slept in days. She sounded like she was being murdered. “She’s fine,” he said. “She’s okay, buddy. Hey, look at me. Don’t cry.” He wiped my tears. “Are you a strong boy? Huh? Don’t cry. You’re a Donnelly. You remember that.” He messed my hair and smiled, one that faded of light the older I grew. “Let’s go get ice cream.” He never took me to get ice cream. He got distracted at a cousin’s place and he accidentally left me there for two days. My mom cried about it.

“Do I look like your girlfriend?” “Nah, ‘cause I don’t have one.” “Music to my ears.” “Knew we didn’t have the same music taste.” Lo begins to smile, and so do I.

“Truth be told, I’m no Avenger or Guardian of any Galaxy, but Donnelly could be one. He really could.”

“He’s in leagues with the heroes of all earthly and galactic realms,” I profess strongly. Ripley gasps in astonishment. “Really?” “Really, really.”

Donnelly is known for his thirst trap videos on social media, which…yeah, they’re hot. So hot I might’ve watched them to death and used them for writing inspo, but him lip-syncing to hit songs while shirtless isn’t the kinda coverage that’ll win over the world.

Jump!” Just as we hop another step, Donnelly enters the living room, and my heart has leapt another five yards without the rest of me.

He wants to be in my company, unearthly reader. He is seeking me out, even though we’re not supposed to be intimately together.

“You stepped into Farrow’s face,” I tell him. “Don’t think you were asking him for a kiss on the cheek, unless you were.” Charlie is unamused. “Just sayin’,” I add.

“Joke’s on Charlie though ‘cause you’re definitely not a sheep, but I’m fucking glad he thinks you are.” “Why?” “Because if he went at you, I’d be in his face.” Can’t even imagine how Farrow has felt watching a guy repeatedly go at the love of his life. I’d lose my mind.

“Accentuates my ensemble,” I joke, gesturing to my plain fit today. “Very glam,” Frog compliments me.

Life is strange and beautiful, and moments like these, I’m grateful to be alive.

I feel Luna’s hand slip into mine. Softly, quietly…secretly. Even though my palm isn’t clean, even though she knows we shouldn’t—she’s still holding my hand. I encase mine around hers. For a moment. Before we have to let go.

“Good thing your baby didn’t come out six-foot and thirty-pounds.” She’s only five pounds, two ounces. Thatcher widens the door, but he hasn’t shifted enough to let me inside the labor and delivery room. My smile fades at the emotional look in his eyes. “Did something happen?” “Yeah,” he nods. “You delivered my daughter. You helped Jane.” It tunnels into me, but I’m not used to barring so much tender emotion in front of people. So I’m staring down the hallway, left and right. “She did all the work. I just cracked Olive Garden jokes.” Jane laughs inside the room. She heard me.

I mean it. Being able to witness a new life coming into the world has reminded me why I love existing. Plus, I’ve always loved being in positions where people depend on me and rely on me. It’s why I’m a bodyguard.

“What’d you name her?” is all I ask. “Maeve. It’s Irish,” Jane says. “It means she who rules. And in Irish mythology, she’s a goddess.” Irish. Because of me. My gaze clouds with more emotion, and I look down at Maeve Moretti. A baby goddess is the perfect addition to the Cobalt Empire—and to Jane and Thatcher’s new family.

“What’s the hold up, Xander’s dad?” I ask, trying to keep my voice leveled. “Who cares if it has typos?” “It’s not about the typos, and you know that,” Lo says with a deep, irritated sigh. “It’s about Luna,”

Nov 16th, 7:21 a.m. StaleBread89: had to leave early and didn’t want to wake you. Grabbing coffee with my dad, then I’m told I *might* be shifted to Xander later today. Something about him going to the arcade with Easton? Wish me luck 5535756860 8:46 a.m. Illyana_Dallas222: Good luck, fellow Planet Partner! I’m crossing my many fingers for your safe travels. Let me know how it goes with my brother ❤️ 9:32 a.m. StaleBread89: I’ll relay everything. Stay sparkly, space

Teleportation might not run in the family, but I know lying does. I could’ve inherited this power from my parents.

I wish Donnelly were here. The other bodyguards know not to intervene in family disputes, but maybe Donnelly would’ve been the one beside me. Or is that just a fantasy too?

My mistakes have grown like thorny vines, twisting around the people I love. Guilt has become heavier like a weighted blanket impossible to throw off.

Am I…jealous? Because why do I want to tell Beckett that I slept with Donnelly like I’m one-upping him? Why do I want to claim Donnelly? But really, I wish Donnelly were here to claim me.

And it’s one thing to shit on me, but when I’m trying to reach someone I care about, I’m not gonna be the easy pushover they think I am.

“I don’t work for you. Don’t touch me—and you can get out of my fucking way.”

This edge, though, feels more fatal. More like I could push everyone off the cliff just to hold her hand. I bow my head to growl in his ear, “Take your grievances or whatever up with your boss, and get outta my way.”