Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(76)

“Of course you don’t believe me.” Wind tosses his golden-brown hair. “She didn’t want you to worry, Moffy. Because that’s what you do.”

I bite down. “But you could’ve still told me.”

“Like you would’ve told me if that had been my siblings. If that had been Eliot or Tom or Ben or Audrey—like you would’ve shared anything with me?”

I gape. “I’ve fucking tried. For years, Charlie, I’ve tried. You never answer, you never reply. You hang up on me, so I stopped. You want me to start filling you in when they call me? I will, I fucking will.”

Charlie grinds his teeth, pain leeching his face.

What is it?

What did I do? I feel like I’m close to an answer that I’ve never seen. Never held. “Charlie—”

“I’m not your wingman or your sidekick. I don’t need you.”

I breathe heavily like we’re running for our lives in the same endless circle. “Then you don’t need me, but being a good brother, a good cousin, even, means protecting the people we love. And what you did could’ve killed her.”

He nods slowly. “Just say it, you coward.”

“You’re a shit cousin.”

Charlie charges me. I let him tackle me to the asphalt. I even let his fist bang into my jaw. Then I return the blow. We’re all anger and fists and unspoken pasts and pain.

I don’t see clear until hands wedge underneath my armpits and thrust me backwards. I spit a wad of blood onto the ice.

Charlie’s cheekbone swells, and Oscar seizes him around the waist. Restraining my cousin.

Regret gnaws at me. From behind me, Farrow wraps his bicep around my collarbone, the embrace protective and calming.

Oscar looks between Charlie and me. “You two get that out of your systems? The moment we step onto that bus, it’s a no-fighting zone.”

We’re quiet.

“Maximoff,” Farrow says, his even-keeled heartbeat thumps against my back. Soothing me, and I take these deep breaths that ache with regret.

“We’re good,” I mutter, but a for now hangs in the air. Because even with fists and fleeting hugs and half-hearted apologies—our discord never seems to end.



We return to the bus, and Charlie darts for the bathroom. Beckett springs up from the couch and follows. Door slams, and an ornament attached to the ceiling thuds to the floor.

Jane, Sulli, and Luna are on one couch beneath a giant fleece blanket. Watching Babes in Toyland on the screen. I meet Janie’s big blue eyes that say calm down. Be nice.

I’ll try not to be a hardass.

Akara’s voice escalates from the privacy of the second lounge. “No, you can’t talk your way out of this! There’s no defending it!” Donnelly, Quinn, and Thatcher must be in there, and I’m guessing they’re on the phone with J.P., Luna’s bodyguard who fucked up.

Farrow and Oscar glance at each other.

“I’m not going back there. I’ve had enough drama.” Oscar camps out on the driver’s seat and slides the door shut, blocking out the first lounge. Bus is still parked.

“You need ice?” Farrow asks me.

“No.” I crack a reddened knuckle, and we both sit on the available couch. So close together, my thigh presses against his thigh.

Luna gawks at my bloody lip. “I didn’t think you’d fight with him.”

“It’s fine.” I rake a hand through my thick hair. “What’s not cool is that you ditched your bodyguard. You know how unsafe that is? Paparazzi could’ve run you off the road, you could’ve been hurt—”

“I was safe,” she says quickly. “No paparazzi tailed me, and I traded my Kia for that used Jetta. I had a plan. A solid A-plus plan. And J.P. would’ve snitched on me to Mom and Dad. They both would’ve said no, and I wanted to be…here with all of you.”

She sniffs, eyes watering.

“Did you call Mom and Dad?” I ask and stand up.

She nods. “Dad wants you to call him.”

Alright.

I near and bend down to hug my sister. I squeeze tight, and she squeezes back tighter. “I’m glad you’re safe, Luna. I love you.”

Her tears wet my shoulder.

I kiss the top of her head, and when I back up, Jane gives Luna a side-hug. “We’re lucky to have you here. This bus was missing some Luna love.”

“Totally,” Sulli agrees and passes the cookie bag to Luna.

“Watch out,” I say, “those are disgusting.”

At that, Luna basically shoves the whole cookie in her mouth and mumbles, “Cool, pot cookies.”

“Wait, what?” My mouth falls.

Farrow rises.

Color drains in Jane’s cheeks. “Merde.”

Sulli’s green eyes grow to saucers. “Huh?”

Luna chews, crumbs fall out of her lips. “You guys don’t taste the weed?”

Farrow snatches the cookie bag as she goes to grab a second one. Thank you. He sniffs the cookie and then yells, “Donnelly!”

Back door cracks open, and Donnelly slips out, shutting it behind him. “What? Beckett?” He walks past the bunks.

“He’s fine,” Farrow snaps. “Did you bring pot cookies on the bus?”