Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(59)

“Talk about something else,” Thatcher says, voice stern.

I’m guessing they’re censoring themselves around me. I’ve been with bodyguards off-duty plenty of times before—like the Hallow Friends Eve and even just on the tour bus—but they try not to dig for secrets and they dodge certain topics about my family.

Farrow splays his earpiece wire over his shoulder. “Which one of you fuckers scared the bartender off?”

“Bar and kitchen closed five minutes ago,” Akara says while texting and then he pockets his phone.

Quinn swishes a bottle of Jack Daniels. “Bought it before the bartender left.”

I’m still super-glued to the Maximoff would know comment. “Donnelly,” I say, all eyes on me. “You can ask me. It’s alright if it’s about my family.” I already know how the world perceives the Hales, Meadows and Cobalts, and security can’t view us worse than strangers who are fed tabloid lies.

Donnelly blows smoke into the air, and the bodyguards exchange cagey glances that I can’t fucking read. They must come to a verdict because he speaks and no one stops him. “Heard about Eliot and been discussing whether it’s real or rumor. Figured you’d know.”

I know about that incident thanks to a hundred texts at midnight, and Luna, Eliot, and Tom FaceTimed me together. “What’d you guys hear?”

Oscar cracks a peanut and pops it in his mouth. “I heard he got a week suspension.”

“For messing with some guy’s Porsche,” Quinn chimes in and pours whiskey in an empty glass.

Donnelly sticks his cigarette in his mouth and mumbles, “If someone fucked with my Porsche, I’d have him by the nuts.”

Farrow chews his gum with a growing smile. “You know we’ve left reality when Donnelly thinks he has a Porsche.”

Everyone laughs, including me, and the mood lightens, Omega starting to relax around me.

Donnelly nods to me. “Real or rumor?”

“Real,” I say. “You hear what he did to the Porsche?” Farrow knows. I already told him.

“Nah, no one’s said yet.”

I think about how this won’t ever reach the public. You’ll never hear about Eliot’s suspension thanks to the Cobalt’s lawyers, but I’m betting security will find out tomorrow morning.

And SFO is about to find out by me tonight.

“In red paint,” I tell them, “he wrote ‘the most unkindest cut of all’ on the windshield.” I shake my head a few times, conflicted. I wish I could defend my eighteen-year-old cousin, but he vandalized another guy’s car. Eliot is a Cobalt, innately passionate. I swear he can never do anything half-heartedly.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Quinn asks. “The most unkindest…what?”

“Should’ve gone to college, little bro.” Oscar throws back a whiskey shot.

Quinn scowls. “Maximoff didn’t go to college—”

“He’s a billionaire. He didn’t need to go to college.” Oscar outstretches his arm. “If you quit boxing, you should’ve gotten a degree, not followed me into securi—”

“Guys, be cool,” Akara interjects. This isn’t the first time the Oliveira brothers have argued on tour. At least they never get physical like Charlie and me.

Quinn clenches his jaw and screws the cap on the whiskey bottle.

“It’s a quote from Julius Caesar,” I explain. “You know Tom was with Eliot?”

Donnelly smirks. “My Cobalt children, slayin’ together.”

Thatcher shakes his head. “Let’s not advocate vandalism, especially among the teenagers.”

“Advocado-what?” Donnelly pretends to be dumb.

I laugh with some of them, and Farrow eyes me a bit, his smile stretching.

“How’d Tom get out of trouble?” Akara asks me.

“Eliot just took all the blame for them.” I pause, their heads turning to the entrance. Vigilant as a middle-aged woman peeks in the bar and pops out. I hear her tell a friend that it looks empty in there, and their footsteps fade away.

Not spotted. For once.

Their attention fixing on me again, I finish, “The whole thing was Eliot’s idea anyway.”

Oscar digs through the peanut shells. “Why’d they do it?”

I decide to be vague, the whole truth too personal. “The guy was messing with my sister.”

Luna clued Tom and Eliot in on the pregnancy scare, and they said the guy she slept with was spending his holiday break telling his friends that Luna Hale is a slut.

I wish I could’ve teleported to Philly.

So I could do something. Be there for her. I don’t know if she told our mom and dad yet. And I honestly can’t tell you what I would’ve done if I were the same age as Luna, in school at the same time—would I’ve reacted similar or worse than Eliot? I don’t know.

The bodyguards nod. Not pressing for more details. I bet they can sense when I’m being reserved.

Quinn slides a newly filled glass to Farrow, but Thatcher steals the drink midway across the table.

Farrow rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t going to drink it, Mom.” He slides off the stool and walks backwards to the empty bar. “What do you want, wolf scout?”

I think about how that’s stealing—fuck, he can totally tell I’m considering all the rules. His smile widens, and I swear “so pure” is on the edge of his tongue.