Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
“It’s fine,” Maximoff says to Farrow. “Take care of our kids. I’ll just be a sec.” He’s unstrapping two backpacks from both his shoulders. They likely contain diapers and formula. Farrow takes one backpack. In the other hand, he’s gripping the baby carrier where their newborn is fast asleep.
“I’ll get that,” I reach for the second backpack to help, looking forward to an exit. Hopefully with Luna.
“You. Stay,” Lo says.
He’s speaking to me.
It’s not a hallucination or mirage.
“Why?” I glance around, trying to find the joke. Not even the couch has answers. Rug isn’t funny either.
“Because this is what happens when you’re the messenger.” He gives me a half-smile. “And I don’t believe in that old motto about them.”
Don’t shoot the messenger. Alright, yeah. He’s prepared to shoot me down, right out of the sky.
Been there before. Experienced that.
Something tells me he’s just keeping me on my toes. Not letting me get too comfortable in case he still needs to throw me outside like yesterday’s trash.
Mission accomplished. I feel sprightly. Ready to be hurled in any direction.
“Dad,” Luna says, more protectively but also uneasily. She glances from him to me. She has no memory of her dad seriously hating me. Like wishing the bubonic plague upon my firstborn sort of hate. Joke’s on him though because I’ve never wanted kids.
“We’re just talking,” Lo assures her.
“He loves talking to me,” I tell her with the cock of my head. I think she’s smiling at my accent on the word talk.
Lo wasn’t kidding when he said he’s not in the mood. He has no rebuttal for me. No sharp-tongued quip back. Feels weird that I miss it.
Farrow hesitates to leave Maximoff in the crossfire of the unknown, but he’s got his hands full. So he ushers Ripley into the kitchen. Luna takes Maximoff’s second backpack and follows Farrow out. When they’re gone, I just try to imagine Luna smiling.
It leaves me with a warm fuzzy feeling that’s a whole lot better than the pained look on Lo’s face.
“Does your mom know?” Lo asks his son the second the kitchen door shuts. They’re squared off in front of the crackling fireplace, and I stand behind the sofa, furniture separating me from them.
“Aunt Rose is telling her,” Maximoff says. Must be why Lily was at the Cobalt Estate early this morning. I stopped by the Hale House to help out since Lily is still on crutches. Only she wasn’t here.
I lean against the back of the couch. Not saying a word.
Lo stares at the wall, unblinking. His cheekbones are razorblades. “So what—I’m the last to know?”
“Uncle Ryke said he’d tell you—”
“He’d tell me…but only after he told my own son.” Lo raises his phone. “I haven’t gotten a call from my brother or from Connor. Wonder why.” I hear the hurt in his voice. “Which one told you first?”
“I was on a three-way call with them—”
“Jesus,” Lo winces.
“—they want to tell you face-to-face. Uncle Ryke said he’d be here soon, and I haven’t known for that long either. I just found out on the drive over here.” He motions at the foggy window. There is no Christmas tree around, no strand of garland over the fireplace mantel, no mistletoe hanging in the entryway, nothing to show we’re five days out from the holiday. Other than the lights I was stringing on the roof outside, the Hales haven’t had time for Christmas cheer.
My family stole that kind of joy from them the instant they assaulted Lily and kidnapped Luna, and if I could give back what they took, I would.
I’m trying.
I’ve been trying.
Lo stares off again. “They could’ve looped me in on that call. Christ, Rose could’ve told Lily and me together. Instead, I’m here.” He slaps a hand to his side. “I’m here, and I learned from a bodyguard.”
Wish he would’ve called me Luna’s boyfriend, but I guess I’m not that yet. Luna and I are in a “no labels” pool. Looks murky here.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Maximoff says empathetically. “Ryke was supposed to be the one to tell you.”
Lo cringes. “Christ, don’t apologize for my brother. I love him more than anything, but he should’ve never told you before telling me.”
“What does it really fucking matter?” Maximoff asks.
“Because you’re my son, and pardon me for wanting to know the heavy shit in this family before my kids do.”
Maximoff takes a tensed breath. “I’m not a child. I’m twenty-five—”
“I don’t care if you’ve reached five-hundred-and-fifty. I’m still twice your age, and I’m your father.”
“He didn’t want to tell you over the phone!” Maximoff shouts, then lets out a deeper breath, trying not to yell. “He cares about you. Everyone fucking cares, Dad, and after everything you’ve been through—everything you saw and heard with Mom and Luna—no, we didn’t want to tell you over the phone. We.” He points to his chest. “I was a part of that, so if you’re going to be pissed at Ryke, at Connor, at whoever else for caring about you, you can add me to the damn list too.”