Headstrong Like Us (Like Us 6)

“Fuck.” I hear Sulli, her voice an echo. “I was going to offer to do it, but I’m out.”

Why?

I glance at Oscar nearby. He’s watching them on the cliff, and I can’t. “Oliveira?”

“Sulli just looked over the ledge,” he tells me. “It must be too steep to repel or climb.”

Shit.

Shit.

I move faster, taking out scissors. “Audrey, I’m going to cut your shirt—”

“Is that truly necessary?” Audrey whispers to me. “I love this shirt.”

Jane gives me a knowing smile. It’s Oscar’s shirt—and Audrey has had a crush on him since forever. Oliveira pretends he didn’t hear, but he definitely did.

I’ll give him shit for it later. Right now, I’m preoccupied.

I wait to rip her shirt. “It’s either that, or you’re going to have to take it off.”

Her face turns beet-red, eyes flitting to her brothers. “The first option.”

My brows rise. “That’s what I thought.” I snip part of the fabric.

“Maximoff is unwinding the rope,” Oscar narrates.

No.

Someone has to tell him this is a bad idea.

“The repel is dangerous,” Akara says, his voice carrying. There we go. “We can just remotely wipe the phones, so no one can access them in case they get in the wrong hands.”

“Please no!” Audrey overhears. The two girls on the cliff and the two on the rock terrace all shout their disapproval of wiping the phones. How they have personal shit on the cells. Memories that they didn’t back up into the cloud for security reasons. And if their phones survived the drop, they want them back.

I finish cutting a portion of the shirt. “Audrey, stay still.”

“Moffy can just rappel!” Kinney shouts.

“Yeah, Moffy can do it!” Vada exclaims. “He has the rope. He’s done this a million times.”

“Please, Moffy!” Audrey calls out.

My blood is ice. Numb. I’m fucking numb, and I need to be beside him.

“Or I can do it,” Winona rebuts. “Worst case scenario, I slip and break an arm.”

“No, squirt,” Sulli retorts loudly. “You’re not breaking anything.”

“I’ve climbed harder rock than this.”

Maximoff chimes in, “You’re barely clothed, Nona. You’re not climbing in only a shirt.”

“Give me your pants—”

“No. I’m going to do it.”

I’m going to do it.

Those words sucker-punch me. But I’m not willing to half-ass any job, especially medicine. I just wish I could be fully here and fully there right now. Carefully, I wipe the bloodied abrasion on Audrey’s skin. She winces.

“You’re doing splendidly, Audrey,” Jane consoles.

“Really good,” Thatcher nods.

Audrey blushes at his encouragement.

Beckett appraises her back. “It’s not that deep.”

“You’ll live,” Charlie says. “But we can still throw you a funeral to celebrate the death of your common sense.”

Audrey gasps.

“Charlie,” Jane snaps.

I finish bandaging her tender skin. “You’re all set, Audrey.” Fast as lightning, I snap off my gloves and pack up my med bag.

No one else needs me here. So I move ahead of them. Not hesitating or lingering, I sprint up the narrow steps that lead to the lookout point. This high, wind whirls in harsher gusts.

And at the top, Maximoff is tying the paracord rope on a low guard rail. I drop my med bag beside him, and his head swerves to me.

“You forget to read the sign?” I nod to the red circular sign nearby. “It says no climbing.”

He tightens a fancy knot that I’ve never even fucking heard of. “You’re the one who always says rules are supposed to be broken. Boundaries are like cautionary tales. Go ahead.”

I roll my eyes. “I said that in reference to being with you.” He was my do-not-enter boundary, my cautionary tale that I wanted to pursue with caution but still go on ahead. “This is a literal do not enter sign.”

“You’re really going to tell me you’ve never walked through those too?” Maximoff questions.

He has a point, and I peer over the cliff.

On a rock ledge, over twenty-feet below, lies cracked cellphones and piles of clothing. My muscles tense, just picturing Maximoff descending this cliffside. Everyone believes he can do anything, all without breaking a sweat, and I believe in him and know he’s capable of a lot.

He’s capable of doing this, but I also care about him enough to protect his body from harm. When it’s too much, too far.

Maximoff finishes the knot and slowly rises to his feet. Our eyes latch, and it’s like being slowly asphyxiated.

Wind whips around us, and for a brief moment, it feels like it’s just him and me. No one else on this cliff.

“Farrow,” he whispers, hard uneasiness in his voice. “I keep thinking about our son.”

I swallow a rock. “What about him?”

He blinks a few times. “I want to be the best brother, the best cousin, but I think risking my life over a bunch of cellphones makes me a bad father…a bad husband.” His face contorts, his head almost hanging—he rarely hangs his head.

“Maximoff—”

“Do you think I can do this?”

Okay, he never asks me that. He’s too stubborn. We’re too competitive. Too much of a lot of shit that makes us reckless fools. But he’s asking me now, and primal affection twists my gut. I just care a lot about him.