Headstrong Like Us (Like Us 6)

His pride for me just bathes my whole being. My eyes burn, and I blink back emotion. He motions me on with two fingers. “Keep going.”

“You.”

He leans back easily without tipping the chair. “I don’t have family who’d do this for me. And it’s a common thing, family members donating eggs: a sister helping a sister, a cousin helping a cousin. I like knowing there’s a lot of love in this process, as fucking cheesy as that sounds.”

I nod, because I like that too. And I think about something. “If she’s pregnant with our child, I wouldn’t want that to impede her life and her ability to have her own babies. But I’m famous—we’re famous.” I gesture to his chest. “And trust does play a factor in choosing surrogates and egg donors.”

Farrow nods.

“Would you take her up on the offer?” I ask him outright.

He nods more. “Yeah, I would.”

“Both?”

“Yeah, but like you, I also don’t want this to fuck with her life plans.” Farrow pries his earpiece out of his ear and splays the cord over his shoulder. “Basically, we have choices that are waiting around in the future.”

The door feels wide open to multiple options, and I think we’re both more comfortable not making a hard and fast decision right now.

5

FARROW KEENE

After trekking shin-deep in briar and being stung twice by yellow jackets, I’m thankful I’ve never been on the 24/7 detail of a Meadows. Though, it’d make more sense for me to be here as Sulli’s bodyguard while I’m also on-site as a doctor (in the case of a climbing emergency). Being her bodyguard means it’d free-up Banks to protect Maximoff.

But no, some other prick is watching my fiancé right now.

“Once you’re called in as a doctor, you’re only a doctor,” my father told me. He’s the one who created that needless fucking rule, barring me from multitasking.

He wishes the white coat is the only thing I wear, and he’s all too eager and quick to strip me of my radio and gun.

As soon as Sulli and her dad are on the ground, I sling my med bag on my shoulder, and I’m out. I can tell Ryke Meadows is peeved that I’m being a standoffish asshole. I could’ve at least hiked back to the parking lot with them, but the truth is, I don’t know who’s protecting Maximoff.

Akara has been rotating temps every couple of hours. And Maximoff is always too good at convincing just about everyone that he’s fine and capable of being his own bodyguard. Lucky for him, he has me.

And I’m not letting him go through shit alone.

I fit on a motorcycle helmet and climb on my Yamaha, the one I bought with Maximoff. The night of the fire, we parked the bike on the street.

I ride out to the Philly Aquatic Center.

Despite the stings and scratches, I enjoy hiking and the outdoors. But Maximoff loves that shit even more than me, so to not have him there just made me miss him for six-plus hours.

I manage to evade most paparazzi back in Philly, and once I park, I tuck my helmet under my arm and saunter casually into the aquatic center, chewing a piece of gum.

Fuck, the air is humid and sticky in here—but I’ll take it. Because the entire place smells like pool and orange peels. Chlorine and citrus.

It’s become my favorite scent.

Young kids dive for rings in the four-foot end. Whistle around his neck, Maximoff wades in water and helps a girl who struggles to dip under the surface.

I smile, and then my boots slow on the wet tile.

What the fuck? I pop a bubble in my mouth before biting down hard. The dishwater-blond bodyguard is standing next to a bin of water wings and pool floaties. He looks around my age, my height.

Not strange.

A wolf tattoo covers his right bicep, and he has a dermal piercing on his cheekbone and wears Doc Martens and a Metallica muscle shirt.

Also, not that strange.

But I’ve never met him. Definitely wasn’t the one to help train him, and in the amount of time I’ve been looking at this fucker, his eyeballs haven’t swept anything other than Maximoff.

He’s new.

He’s green.

I can’t tell if I’m being a territorial asshole and this dermal-pierced guy thinks he’s doing his job or if he’s actually checking out my fiancé.

I fit in my earpiece with my free hand and near the temp. Gossiping parents pretend to watch their kids from a row of bleachers, and as I cross in front of them, their attention plasters to me.

Some women slyly snap photos beneath their purses, and I don’t give a shit. Maximoff doesn’t care about money-shots or fan pics, so they’re not breaking the NDAs they signed.

I stop next to this dermal-pierced guy, and he hasn’t acknowledged my existence yet. My narrowed gaze shifts from him to Maximoff, who’s too busy with his actual job to notice the temp.