Headstrong Like Us (Like Us 6)

He hasn’t spoken since we left the villas. Even now, he’s all hard lines and steel-caged fortitude.

“I should’ve grabbed my backpack,” Maximoff says under his breath. “I was preparing for a media-related doomsday. Not this.” He gestures to the sea for the fourteenth time.

It’s only the second night in Anacapri, and neither of us expected the girls to pull a full-fledged teenager moment. Hushed, I tell him, “The good here: this is easier to deescalate than any media shit storm.”

He nods a few times, eyeing the earpiece splayed on my shoulder. Security is confirming cleared sectors of the town.

I add, “And they’re just teenagers being teenagers.”

“They’re also famous,” Maximoff says just as quietly. “They know better. My sister knows better. And I just keep thinking that the four of them, they’re not stupid. If they did sneak out, they would’ve come back before bed.” He shines his flashlight at the rocky cliffside.

He’s afraid they’re hurt.

One of them could’ve slipped and fallen.

It just seems unlikely to me. If one fell, the others would’ve ran back to the villas or called for help.

Doesn’t add up…unless they’re all hurt.

I unzip my med bag and check the amount of supplies. Maximoff preparing for worst-case scenarios can be helpful, and I need to make sure I have everything for this one.

I remember the car crash, and if I didn’t have a needle decompression kit at hand, Maximoff wouldn’t be here right now. What’s in this bag could be the difference between life and death.

The street suddenly illuminates, and we all glance over our shoulders. Thatcher drives a security vehicle on the one-way road, his brights on, and Jane is perched in the passenger seat. Tires crawl slowly, keeping our walking pace.

Beckett flashes light towards the town. “They’re probably at a bar and too nervous to order anything.”

Charlie checks his phone. “I bet they’re sitting in a booth doing nothing.”

Oscar scans the dark water. “We can only hope—motherfucker.” He winces and pries out his earpiece, along with Banks, Akara, and O’Malley.

Earpiece speakers crack on my shoulder as the SFE lead screams, “KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED! I WANT EVERY HEAD ON A FUCKING SWIVEL, YOU HEAR ME?!”

“He’s lost his motherfucking mind,” Oscar exhales.

O’Malley looks everywhere but at us, embarrassed. Yeah, that’s his lead having a meltdown on comms.

I’m elated that he’s not my superior. Not thrilled that he busted out my earpiece. I zip my med bag, supply count cemented in my head.

Banks has his hands on Sulli’s thighs, securing her on his shoulders. “Sinclair knows his ass is on the line for this fuck-up.”

“Yep,” Akara says and looks up at his client. “You alright, Sul?”

“Um…yeah.” She whips the handheld searchlight. “I don’t see a fucking thing.”

Boots crunch sticks, dirt, and loose gravel as we walk. We call out their names, but the sound of crashing waves drowns our voices.

Oscar fits his earpiece back in, and I focus in on the silver hoop in his nose. I pierced him after my bachelor party, and I’m still surprised he’s keeping the thing in.

He narrows his eyes at the road. “We’re approaching the Blue Grotto.” He names one of the most famous spots in Capri, a natural cavern with neon-blue water. Rowboats paddle through the mouth of the cave, and we have that activity set on the wedding itinerary this week.

I wrack my brain and picture the map that I glanced at. “Swim coves are before the Blue Grotto.” I snap my finger, trying to remember more. “It’s a beach, I think.”

“It’s not really a beach.” Akara fits on his baseball cap.

“My sister and I went swimming before breakfast,” Sulli informs us while Banks sets her on her feet. She nudges him with her elbow. “Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

Maximoff looks confused. “Wait, so what is it?”

“There’s no sand,” Sulli explains. “It’s a rocky cove with ladders to drop into the water.”

Akara adjusts his earpiece. “If we keep left past the parking lot and bus stop, there are a few restaurants around the swimming coves.”

Thatcher hangs an arm out of the car window. “They could either be at the coves or the restaurants.”

Maximoff runs a hand through his hair. “My sister wouldn’t go swimming at night.”

“Mine fucking would,” Sulli says, worry cinching her brows.

“So would Vada,” Maximoff realizes, voice tight.

Jane leans over Thatcher to speak to us. “My sister would join them in solidarity.”

“Everyone, we’re staying together,” Akara declares. “We’ll go cove by cove, then hit the restaurants.”

No one argues.

Once the parking lot and bus stop come into view, Thatcher and Jane roll into a spot and switch off the ignition. Car doors shutting, they join us quickly, and our walk becomes a sprint.

Stairs descend to flat rock, and we spread out on the sleek surface. I see remnants of sunbathers: tanning lotion, old sunblock, a crumpled soda. Looks like an aluminum can of Fizz Life.