“She’s nineteen. You’re not her keeper.” I skim more. “The pictures look real, but they’re grainy as hell.” Luna is definitely lip-locked with three different guys. They’re not that hot. “She could do better.” I look up and Maximoff stares hard at me like I’ve inhaled too many paint fumes.
He gestures to my chest. “That’s really what you’re gathering from all of this?”
No. “The media is slut-shaming your little sister and implying she’s a sex addict. Trust me, I hate that as much as you, but we can’t fight these fuckers. The magazines are already printed.”
Maximoff nods. “I don’t want her to deal with this alone if the headlines are bothering her, Farrow. She could be the one collecting the tabloids.” He pulls out his phone to text his sister since she went to Superheroes & Scones for lunch.
I’m usually not in my head that often, but I start remembering the conversation I had with Donnelly after the Scotland trip. I asked him about whether he hooked up with Luna, and he admitted to the entire thing.
“I wouldn’t hurt her,” Donnelly emphasized.
“Man, you don’t have to convince me.” I know how he is with one-night stands. I know how he is with women. He’d let a girl walk all over him before even contemplating walking all over her. “I just didn’t think you’d go there with Luna Hale.” Flirting, I understood.
Actually giving her head, I thought he’d push the brakes. For one, I’ve never seen him with a girl that young—not since he was that young. For another, he knows Maximoff would be pissed—and Maximoff is attached to me. Donnelly hasn’t really tested our friendship like this before.
I didn’t believe he would.
“It happened,” Donnelly said with a tight shrug. “It was just one time. She asked me.” He tried to gauge my reaction. “Are we good?” I could feel his worry.
“Yeah, we’re good.” They’re both adults, but I definitely felt bad for reassuring Maximoff that nothing would happen between them when something clearly did.
I thought I knew Donnelly better than that.
Maximoff had a talk with Luna once we were all back in Philly too. Apparently, she just kept reassuring him that the hook-up was a “one-time” thing.
In the garage, I close the tabloid and stick up for my friend. “Donnelly would treat her better than three mystery guys in a Manhattan club.”
Maximoff tucks his phone in his back pocket. “He’s twenty-seven. My dad will murder him, Farrow.”
I toss the magazine on the stack. “True.”
“And Luna prefers one-night stands. She might not even want to hook up with Donnelly again.”
“Yeah,” I say, but I feel for Donnelly. If he risked our friendship to be with Luna, there’s a good chance he really likes her.
Another five minutes tick by before we find sheetrock mud and joint compound, and we return to the kitchen. But we’re not alone anymore.
“Have you been making another collage for me and Farrow?” Maximoff asks his sixteen-year-old brother. He wastes no time being a hardass. Xander hasn’t even popped his head out of the freezer yet.
I set the materials from the garage on a barstool and rest my foot on the rung.
“What?” Xander has a hand on the freezer door, his amber eyes pinging from me to his older brother. “No, we aren’t.” He frowns. “Why did Luna and Kinney say they were going to?”
“No.” Maximoff ties the bagged loaf of bread that he left opened. “So you haven’t been collecting tabloids recently.”
Xander shakes his head. “I threw them all away in January.”
It’s April. If they’re not doing arts and crafts, then this is more serious.
Maximoff is now officially in full-on take-charge mode that I won’t stop or steamroll. He’s texting, and I can only guess that he’s asking Kinney if they’re her tabloids. She’s at school right now.
Xander grabs a Hot Pocket and shuts the freezer. “You punched the wall?” He’s staring at his older brother.
I smile into a bite of apple.
Maximoff looks thoroughly irritated. Job well done. “It was Farrow.”
“It was my elbow,” I clarify. “And an accident.”
“We were wrestling,” Maximoff explains further and motions to his brother’s frozen hockey puck. “We already have all this food out if you want a sandwich, Summers.”
“Thanks, but this is ten times better.” He pops the Hot Pocket in the microwave, punches the cook time, then leans against the counter and picks at his thumbnail. “So…can I ask you two something?”
I’m a little bit surprised he’s not just speaking to Maximoff.
Sure, I’ve been teaching Xander how to box and some basic MMA technique, but he hasn’t exactly sought me out for “advice” before.
Whatever’s on his mind could revolve around the wedding. That’d make more sense. Especially since we haven’t formally picked groomsmen and groomswomen yet. But most have a good idea they’re in the wedding party.
If Xander backs out of the ceremony, it’ll really hurt Maximoff. I’m hoping that’s not what this is about.