Unlucky Like Us (Like Us, #12)

by Krista Ritchie

I just walk over to Farrow and turn my back on the small audience. “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. I take a breath. “Triple Shield can go.”

“You look like you’re tweaking,” he retorts. “You know what, I take it back. Maybe he will fit right in with his family.” “Shut the fuck up,” Farrow snaps. “Tony,” Price reprimands. “Get out,” Connor says more authoritatively. He points at his door.

“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.

“I wasn’t planning on smoking in here,” I say quietly and slip a cigarette behind my ear. “I know Rose hates it.” I know Lo does too. I pocket the cigarettes. “They’re just for later.” I look between them. “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.

“To make this very clear,” Connor continues, “I also wouldn’t have stopped Rose if it weren’t for Lo. He said he put you through enough, and Rose didn’t need to do extra damage.” Lo wears another half-smile. “What can I say? I was feeling charita...

Connor never blinks. “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? Or do you need synonyms for pertinent?” “I know what it means,” I breathe. “I’m going to make things right.”

“Why don’t you like your Uncle Raff?” Lo questions, back to that. “I didn’t say he was special or anything.” “Call it a hunch.” Lo is trying to hold my gaze, and I’m still looking away.

ask, “Ready now?” I’m itching to go and rip this Band-Aid. “Yeah,” Lo says, digging out his car keys. “I’m driving you.” “You can’t drive him.” Connor rests his electronic tablet on the desk. “We’ve been over this, Lo.” They have? “Great, so you heard me last time when I said, I don’t care if I’m spotted. He’s my son’s bodyguard. It’s not that weird for me to drive him to South Philly.” “Lo—” “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.”

My mind is stirring up dust. “What’d you want—to chaperone me? Keep an eye on me? Look out for me?” I turn to him again. “Why drive me?” “All of the above, Paul.” He flashes a half-smile. I lean back, trying to accept that as an answer, even if it doesn’t feel like one. “Alright, Xander’s dad.” He makes a noise, sounding like a trapped laugh.

“Stop here, I can walk the rest.” I unbuckle my seatbelt. “No. I’m dropping you off.” I don’t listen. I open the door of the moving car. “Jesus Christ.” Lo slams on the brakes, slowing down immediately, but I’m already hopping out, my feet catching the pavement with ease. “See ya.” I shut the door. 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.

wonder if they can hear my heart hammering. 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 close the distance. And then he swings his head, and we make eye contact. He straightens his spine, and I let out a rough breath. Every step towards my dad feels weighted by quicksand. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. I’d do anything to be with her.

He peers beyond me. “Who dropped you off?” I’m not surprised it’s the first thing he asks. He might’ve even seen Lo as he drove past, so I can’t lie. “The dad of the kid I protect,” I say. “Loren Hale?” His brows shoot up.

I pull out my cigarettes and stick one between my lips. “Ay!” An older man behind the counter waves a hand at me. “No smokin’ in here.” I’m about to put them away when my dad yells, “Since when, Mike? I just saw two guys lighting up in here yesterday.” Mike spins to him, recognition sparking before confusion overtakes him. “Sean, you going to bat for this guy?” “That guy is my kid.” “Paul?” Mike swings his head to me. “I thought he died.” “Back from the grave,” my dad says without a beat.

“You told people I died?” “People assumed. You weren’t around. No one heard about you going to prison. Death seemed more likely.” He swigs from the soda. “Some don’t even realize you’re the Ass-Kicker, the same Donnelly who’s become somethin’ of a celebrity, protecting the rich and famous.”

“So there’s Paul, my son, and then there’s Donnelly, the celebrity. Who’s here today?” I take another drag to calm my nerves. “Who do you want here?” I ask him. “I don’t know this Donnelly. I just know the little shit who used to tie bedsheets to the banister and swing around like he was George of the Jungle.”

“You left.” “Why would I stay?” I breathe. “You and Mom were in prison.” “Your grandmom. She died and you were fuck-knows where.” “She didn’t even know I left. Once you and Scottie were sentenc...

“You’re not using?” I ask. Things are better now. How many times have I heard it? Hundreds? Thousands? Every day of my adolescent life? He sniffs hard, looks around. “Maybe once since I’ve been back, but it’s different this time. I wanna help your mom when she gets out. I’m staying clean.” He can’t look me in the eyes and say it.

“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. And they both promised they’d quit using.

“I was a virgin when you gave me meth, you know. Couldn’t exactly compare the two.” His face contorts, and he shakes his head a thousand times. “I never gave you meth.” I don’t want to do this with him. I’m looking at the exit. “Paul,” he forces. “I never gave you meth. What the fuck are you talking about?” His South Philly lilt is as thick as mine. He sounds like my dad. “It was Mom, alright. You know it was her.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I mutter. “I’ll talk to Bridget.” He names my mom, and he’s staring far away at the wall. “You didn’t know?” “I didn’t know!” he shouts, pissed off. “I thought you took it yourself.”

“You shouldn’t be talking to Colin,” he suddenly says. It jolts me like being doused with ice. I wonder if security flinched too. “Why not?” I ask him. “Colin is a little bitch.” He wipes his greasy fingers on a napkin. “And you shouldn’t have made that dumbass deal with my brother. I don’t know what you were thinking.” Cold pricks my spine. Lo knows nothing about me giving my paycheck to Scottie.

“I’m helping Farrow,” I tell him. “Farrow?” He gives me an unamused look. “The guy who was loaded and then married into billions. If my shithead brother wanted money, you should’ve let him get it from your friend. Instead, you’re letting him take how much from you? All of it?” He shakes his head with an eye-roll. “Stupid.” I glare. “If you cared that much about me, then why not tell Scottie to back off?” “I did tell him it’s dumb. But once he gets an idea in his head, he’s obsessive. He was gonna get the money from someone or keep his rights to that kid. There was no in-between. I just didn’t think you’d be the first one to cave.” I grind my teeth, avoiding his gaze. Lo knows now.

“You should’ve let Farrow pay Scottie.” “I got that,” I say tensely. He sighs and exhales deeper. “How’s my nephew doing anyway? Ripley, right?” I imagine Lo is freaking the fuck out right now. “He’s not your nephew,” I say. “He’s Farrow and Maximoff’s son.” “Whatever. You know what I mean.” “He’s fine. Cute.”

“Start somewhere. If you’re gonna shoot a load, you might as well get paid for it. And you have experience doing it.” I die inside. It’s like being sucker-punched, knowing that what he just said…Luna’s dad just heard. “Don’t get weird about it,” he says quietly. “No shame in the game.” I just nod, unable to speak.

“See you around, Paul.” It’s chilling hearing my name from his lips, but no more so than hearing the song he plays. The same one I always picked when an old lady gave me a quarter. “Winds of Change” by Scorpions. I waver for a second. I shouldn’t want to return for any other reason than to rat him out. I shouldn’t like him, and I’m afraid I’m gonna fall into a trap where I do.

“You gonna drive?” “You okay?” he asks sharply. “I’m alive, so yeah.”

He breaks the silence. “Thank you.” “Don’t thank—” “For Ripley,” he cuts me off, and I look over. His eyes are bloodshot, reddened like he’s restraining the most stinging emotion. “You didn’t want me to know.” It’s not a question.

“What happens if you stop paying that prick?” Lo asks me. “I don’t know. It’s why I haven’t stopped.” His jaw sharpens. “I’ll pay him in the meantime.” “No—” “You realize I make more money than Connor Cobalt?” He makes a face at me like I hit my head on the curb. “Whatever you’re giving Scottie is chump change to me. I’m paying. He’ll still think it’s coming from you, and he won’t ask for more.”

“I’m doing this for my grandson and for Moffy and Farrow. I’m not doing this for you.” It’s now that I relent. “Alright. Go ahead.”

After a quiet moment, he groans like he’s fighting himself. He cracks his neck and grimaces. “I’m going to ask.” “You don’t have to.” I try not to tense, knowing this has to be about sex. “You can let it go. Pretend you never heard it.” He lets out a laugh. “God, I wish. If only. But my daughter...

“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.”

“The ‘shooting the load for money’ thing that your dad said—does Luna know about that?” My ribs contract around my lungs. I scratch the back of my head. “I haven’t told her outright, no. But it was a long time ago. I don’t do that anymore.” “What exactly have you done? Were you alone or with someone who paid you?” “With someone who paid.”

“I’ve been tested, by the way.” My heart rate spikes. “No STDs. I’m negative.” If looks could kill, Lo is definitely trying to murder me. “Is this your way of telling me you’re thinking of having sex with my daughter? Because A. Did not want to know that because now I want to throw you out of my car, and B. She should be the most chaste person in your fucking head. You’re supposed to be waiting. And if it were up to me, you’d be waiting for eternity.” I already fucked your daughter.

“Noted,” I say lightly. Maybe too lightly. He shakes his head a few times. “You’re something else.” “Something hot.” I put it out there.

“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.

“Donnelly might’ve been caught getting in your car.” “By who?” Lo asks. “My dad?” I question. “No, by Colin. He was in the area. Akara saw him.” “Great,” Lo says with a heavy exhale. “Go ahead and say it, Connor. I told you so.”

Fuckkkk

“What kind of headline?” Lo asks. “Rumors about you hating Donnelly. It’s a feud the press will want to see, and it’ll drive Donnelly towards Sean and away from you.” “That’s fine,” Lo says tightly. “As long as there’s no mention of Luna.” “Of course not.

“Is this really a good idea?” I ask him. “I don’t know,” Lo says honestly. “But if we do nothing, it might be harder for Sean to trust you.” I take out my phone. “Is it okay if I call Luna and tell her? I don’t want her thinking it’s real.” Lo nods to me. “Make it quick.” “Alright.” I dial Luna and cup the phone against my ear. She answers on the first ring. “Hi…is everything okay?”

“Sorta. I’m in the car with your dad.” She pauses. “He didn’t throw you out of the car?” “Still a passenger. He actually picked

“But it’s fake? You’re still in the car with him?” “Yeah, he’s right here.” I hoist the phone towards her dad. “You wanna say hi?” Lo glances at the phone. “It’s for his own good.” “The world won’t ever let this go, Dad,” Luna says quietly. “They’ll always think you two hate each

“We’re taking this week by week. Day by day. You don’t need to stress about the future. No one, and I mean no one, can predict what’s going to happen a year, three years, a decade from now. Not even your genius aunt and uncle. Okay?” “Okay,” she says quietly, and I wanna exterminate all doubt in

“He’s probably just busy doing security things,” I mutter out loud, not to my fish or my puppy. This time, I’m speaking to a living breathing human being. A squishy, baby-cheeked Ripley Hale is beside me eating strawberries, swinging his little legs on the couch and watching superhero cartoons on the penthouse’s living room TV.

“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.

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.”

“What’s worse,” I say aloud, “is Donnelly might have zero chance. My dad, your grandpa, has years upon years of being beloved.” For standing devotedly at my mom’s side. For his sobriety. For raising four children—the oldest of which is treated like a national treasure. Donnelly is known for his thirst trap videos on social media, which…yeah, they’re hot.

I reread his DM. “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.” Definitive signs that I shouldn’t be taking advice from an almost-two-year-old,

“Is that your new favorite word?” I ask and tickle beneath his armpit. He giggles, then nods profusely. More baby giggles, until he settles down and munches into the fruit. “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 hug my baby nephew back. “I love you too.”

Ripley beams. “Again! 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 seems to be absorbing the image of me playing with the baby.