Unlucky Like Us (Like Us, #12)

by Krista Ritchie

“Couldn’t have been a bigger scene than the time I streaked through a Yale quidditch match.” She almost smiles. “Yale has quidditch?” Her tiny, fragile voice is killing me. I nod. “Got a lot of stiff wand jokes tossed at me. Caught ‘em all.” “Did you eat them?” “All of ‘em. Tasted like magic.” “You probably levitated.” “All the way home.”

She whispers, “Um, I pulled my bookcase off the wall. It almost came down on me…and my mom and sister. And that’s…that’s after I trashed my room.” Her eyes well up. “I think Kinney thought it’d make me feel better, but it made me feel worse.” “Yeah, I learned early on that throwing things around just makes everything harder to clean up.”

“You were upset. Being emotional doesn’t mean you’re immature. I think you’re just not used to it.” “To what?” she murmurs. “Showing people your emotions. At least the sad and dark ones.” Luna responds so quietly that I almost mishear her say, “It’s been easier with you.” Yeah. “I feel that too,” I breathe, but a knot twists in my lungs.

“I know you said we’re written in the stars,” Luna whispers, her eyes on mine again. “But what does that mean for right now? The more I try to understand, the more confused I get. Like we’re just us but less than us, than what we were yesterday?” That hurts. Everywhere.

“We’re not less,” I say. “We’ll never be less.” I’m not sure if it’s the truth or if I’m just hoping.

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.

She says, “And we’re the kind of friends that don’t fuck each other.” I laugh. “Girl, that’s ninety-nine percent of my friendships.” I tilt my head. “The one percent was always just you.” She was the only friend I’ve ever fucked.

She crouches to pet Orion, her eyes still up on me. Everything about Luna effortlessly draws me into her stratosphere. Fuck, I’d take her on the rug right now if I could. The way she’s looking at me, I know she’d want me to.

“Nah, it’s gonna be very difficult to keep my hands off you, space babe.” She nods, like she gets it. “Same.”

Like is an understatement to what I feel for Luna, but I’ve already told her that I’m in love with her the night of our first kiss. She expressed love back, so I’m thinking maybe she’s just protecting the depth of her feelings.

Do I want to know more? Yeah, I want to know every last detail of her life. Of who she is. It’s a hunger. An urge, and she must be craving the same from me. We’re the same. But we’re different too. 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.

“I want to know more about you too,” I cement. “Whatever you want to give me, especially if it’s everything.” “Will you give me everything?” she asks. Yes, is the first gut reaction. I’ll give you my world. Except there are dark parts of my world that I’d rather she never really see. So I end up saying, “I’m gonna try.” “Same.”

Meals: Cheerios for brekky. Need some *cheer* in my morning. I am the king of the jungle. Gotta get that pep in my predatory step.

Water: don’t be a thirsty bitch (except when it comes to your girl). Is she mine? Chug H20 all day.

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?

Most of the girls are messy. Sulli’s husbands clean up behind her, and I’ve seen Thatcher do the same for Jane. Would it be bad if I did that for Luna? I blink away the thought, considering her mess isn’t that bad and doesn’t always strike me as something needing cleaned. Most of the time I just wanna live in it with her.

They do share a wife, and I suppose they share each other too. 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.

“You going to see Connor Cobalt like that?” Like a million bucks? I look classy. I’m wearing a black band tee and ripped jeans. I even put on a watch. “Papa Cobalt hates AC/DC or what?” I ask. Akara tells Banks, “I haven’t told him about the call yet.” “He looks fine.” Thatcher has arrived, dressed in his Sunday best: charcoal button-down, black slacks. It’s the fall. He should be popping out the flannels. “All your flannels in the wash?”

“Then what’s Farrow doing here?” I gesture to my best friend. “I’m not leaving you, man.” His gaze drills into me with this familiarity. Years of being there. Of never truly leaving. And it’s a comfort that I shouldn’t need. I know I can survive without it.

“I can do this myself,” I tell him. “I’m gonna do this myself.” I look between them. “Appreciation, really, but you all should kick back and have a happy Thursday. I’ll give you a detailed report on what went down. Cool?” “No,” Akara says with crinkled brows, like I’ve hopped in Luna’s spaceship and flown away. I wish. “It’s not cool. It’s actually uncool.”

“Akara—” “This isn’t up for debate. Connor called. He wants us there. We’re going. And just so you know, I would’ve fought to go if he said we couldn’t. You’re my man, Do...

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.” It strikes me hard. “A parent who cares,” he says. “Someone who makes you dinner at night. Who knows if you didn’t come home.”

This is my first time in his personal office. I know, it surprises me too, considering I used to be an honorary Cobalt. Self-proclaimed, but I figured I was meant for the lion’s den. Not whatever animal hidey-hole the Hales are living in.

My feelings have shifted so much, I have vertigo—dizzy at the realization that I couldn’t care less about being here. I just wanna be with her.

Lo lowers the tablet. “When the hell did his family tree get updated? And why is it on an infinite scroll?” “The PIs missed two of his grandfather’s brothers,” Connor says. “They’ve been fired.” Damn. “You fired my uncles?” I joke.

“You have a smoke?” I whisper, digging in my pocket. Empty. They’re empty except for my lighter. He’s digging in his. “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?”

“Who do you want out of the room?” Lo suddenly asks me. I flinch in surprise. “And you can’t say everyone,” he snaps.

“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. The fact is cold and uglier than my shoulders.

Lo adds, “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.

“So why hasn’t Rose castrated me yet?” “Her sister,” Connor says. “Lily told Rose not to confront you.” My brows jump. Luna’s mom is saving my testicles and future progeny? It’s a strange thought, considering I’ve never wanted kids, and now I’m thinking about Luna having babies. I run my fingers through my hair.

“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.

The only thing keeping me cool and calm is Luna. I picture her licking out a pudding cup and laughing. I picture her dancing to The Who with me. I picture her twirling a lightsaber and pretending to save Orion from invisible aliens. I picture her lying in bed next to me. Gazing up at stars projected on her ceiling. Memories aren’t all bad. Some comfort me. These ones also guide me. She’s why I’m here.

I don’t feel badly for my grandmom. I don’t even feel sorry that I didn’t stick around. Being selfish is the only piece of myself that’s kept me alive, and it might be one of the few traits I share with my dad.

“What?” he snaps, then leans forward. “You don’t believe me? Honestly, do I look like I’m using? You should be able to tell.” He motions down his body and across his face like he’s John fucking Cena with the wrestling catchphrase you can’t see me.

“You can let it go. Pretend you never heard it.” He lets out a laugh. “God, I wish. If only. But my daughter unfortunately likes you.” I smile. “Think she more-than-likes me.” Lo glares, but coming back from seeing my dad, his glare is a welcomed sight. There is no bullshit beneath, and I’m not wondering if he’s lying to me. “We’re not friends,” he reminds me. “I was just stating a fact, Xander’s dad.” “Does Luna know?” His eyes ping to me, then back to the road. He’s still glaring. “I’m pretty positive she knows she loves me.” His eyes lacerate me. I try not to laugh and piss him off more. “It was a joke.” “Your jokes aren’t funny.”

He shakes his head a few times. “You’re something else.” “Something hot.” I put it out there. He touches his chest. “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.

“For every step forward, Donnelly and I are taking a giant leap back into a dumpster fire,” I tell Ripley. “You know Gamora and Star-Lord had an easier romance. And they’re different species!” I fall further back against the couch cushion. “Wow,” Ripley says to me like I’m going through a whole lot. I let out a breath. “I appreciate the concern,” I say softly into a nod. “Truth be told, I’m no Avenger or Guardian of any Galaxy, but Donnelly could be one. He really could.” Ripley chews on a strawberry, staring intently at me. He’s a good listener, just like his dads. “He’s in leagues with the heroes of all earthly and galactic realms,” I profess strongly. Ripley gasps in astonishment. “Really?” “Really, really.”

I hate that there’s nothing I can do. Which feels eons worse. I want to help. I want to be a part of the schemes. I can scheme!

“He wouldn’t have bought tickets if he didn’t want me to join, right?” “Nope,” Ripley says. My gut drops. “You think he’ll take someone else?” “Nope.”

“I love strawberries, Awnie Loonie.” I eat a goldfish cracker. “What else do you love?” “Cars!” He makes a vroom noise. “Doggies.” He wipes his mouth with his hand. “Daddy. Papa. You.” He suddenly flings his soft arms around my waist, and my clenched heart untwists.

I’m almost on edge. I say almost because something about sharing oxygen with Donnelly always makes me floaty inside. Like I’m a few seconds from an exhilarating takeoff.

“I’m all ears, even the ones that haven’t fully grown in yet.” He starts to grin. “You’ve got ears on the back of your head?” “The tops of my feet. Better to hear you with from down below.” “Lemme talk to your foot. Gimme.” He motions to me, and I high-kick my bare foot at him. Donnelly clasps my ankle, and my smile is effervescent inside me, keeping me warm. “Hale?” He talks to my toes. “You hear me?” “Loud and crackly,”

“This is a big place,” I tell him. “We might not even hear them cry all that much.” He swings around. “They’re not guppies in a tank. They’ll be in communal spaces crying. It’s what babies do.”

“I dunno,” Donnelly tells Charlie, “babies might come out celestial. Could be a house of three little angels.” “Yep,” I nod. “This is heaven.” “Your heaven is my hell,” Charlie notes,

I turn to Donnelly. “What do you think?” “I think…” He’s watching Charlie, who’s starting to watch us. Uh-oh. I forgot how perceptive Charlie can be. Donnelly continues, “You’d be happiest wherever there’s a Wawa ‘cause it’s the best place on Earth.” Charlie pockets his phone. “Sounds more like you.” I say, “Maybe I’m happiest wherever Donnelly is.” Donnelly does a double-take towards me, his lips parting, but nothing escapes.

Donnelly continues, “He’s planning on working out at home with Thatcher and Banks, so I’m being shifted to Jane’s detail, and Thatch said she’s in wedding planner mode. She’s supposedly checking out a venue for a bride.” Why does he seem nervous? He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to come with me.” I blink. “To hang out on Jane’s detail?” “That’s not strange at all,” Charlie says with pinched brows. Donnelly ignores him. “I dunno what you’re up to today, but if you’re free, I could use the company.” He wants to be in my company, unearthly reader. He is seeking me out, even though we’re not supposed to be intimately together.

Maximoff rests a calming hand on his son’s back. “No one publicly thinks they’re together, Charlie. And Jane will be there.” Charlie’s jaw tenses. “Where’s the overprotective and self-righteously ragey Maximoff Hale?” Moffy scrunches his face. “I thought you hated that part of me.” “I do, but there are times where it’s necessary,” Charlie sneers between his teeth. “Don’t make me fill that role. Please.”

Charlie flings his suit jacket back over his shoulder. “And I’ll tell you what your brother is too afraid to say, Don’t fuck Donnelly.” “Whoa,” Farrow head-snaps to Charlie and glares. My pulse accelerates. Charlie doesn’t stop. “He’s contaminated. Disease-ridden—” “Charlie,” Farrow warns. Before Donnelly shifts his gaze away, I catch his anger and his hurt. He loves the Cobalts. “—you fuck him, you die,” Charlie tells me. “You understand that; I know you do.” Because Charlie has read most of my smut, including the ones with my favorite trope. “Now isn’t the time to fall for him.” Too late.

I lock eyes with Donnelly, a painful longing burrowing back in my lungs. Fuck him and die. I’d rather be living on the other side of this trope. Fuck him and survive. Why can’t that be my reality?