Wild Like Us (Like Us 8)

That’s all she is to me.

I tell him, “I was actually talking to the guy with the MD.”

Oscar munches on a chip. “Redford, you better check Kitsuwon for the fourth-degree burn.”

Farrow rolls his eyes but continues inspecting Akara’s shoulder. “You all out of original material, Oliveira?”

That’s all she is to me. I frown more.

I look everywhere but at him.

“I’m saving all the good jokes for my husband,” Oscar says, tossing a potato chip in his mouth. Jack Highland-Oliveira should be here soon to film me free-soloing.

I’m supposed to be climbing. Right. Breathing in another deep breath, I focus on my goal.

I can still accomplish what I set out to do. The weather is good. Winter conditions haven’t arrived yet, and I didn’t break a bone.

Fucking silver linings—I love them a waffle-lot. I miss my sister. The sudden thought pangs my heart.

“It’s not infected,” Farrow tells me.

That’s good.

I take another breath.

Moffy says to me, “You could’ve called me last night too. I would’ve hiked up to you.”

“I know,” I say quietly. “But it was late and too dark.”

Farrow is studying the bite marks around Akara’s elbow. “I’m more concerned about torn muscle.”

“I have full range of movement,” Akara says, but his gaze hasn’t left me. I feel it.

“Okay, but as your doctor, I’m recommending a physical exam instead of just taking your word on it. Also, you really need stitches. So take a seat on the table, Kitsuwon.”

Akara climbs onto the picnic table next to Moffy. While Farrow rests a foot on the bench seat, he digs through his trauma bag.

“Papa!” Ripley calls out and drops his sippy-cup as he extends his arms towards Farrow.

Thatcher frowns. “Isn’t Moffy Papa and Farrow Dada?”

Farrow grimaces. “Please don’t ever say dada again.”

Thatcher almost rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

I bend down and pick up the sippy-cup before Arkham slobbers all over it. Moffy and Farrow are kind of tense, and I know Thatcher isn’t wrong about their parent nicknames.

“Maybe he’s confusing you two?” Jane offers a rationale. “He’s only eight-months.”

“Papa!” Ripley is pulling out of Moffy’s arms to reach Farrow.

“That’s your dad, little guy,” Maximoff says as he stands up with his son. He brings Ripley over to Farrow.

Farrow kisses his son’s head, then points to Moffy. “That’s your papa.”

Ripley smiles up at Moffy. “Dada!” He hugs his tiny arms around his papa—well actually I guess Moffy is his dada.

We all laugh.

“Look who’s a little maverick,” Oscar grins. “Confirmed, that’s for sure Farrow’s son.”

I miss the look Farrow gives Oscar because I hand baby Ripley his green sippy-cup. Not just any normal sippy-cup. Gray mountains decorate the sides, and a carabineer is on the handle.

The sippy-cup used to be mine when I was a kid. And I gifted this one to Ripley as an adoption present.

Moffy smiles at me.

I smile back. Seeing Maximoff and Farrow bring Ripley everywhere, on all the trips, all their daily activities and adventures, reminds me so much of how my parents raised me. I was always there with them. Constantly. Limitlessly. Until I guess I grew old enough to go on my own.

Ripley babbles to me, as though to say thank you.

“You’re very welcome, little dude.”

That’s all she is to me.

I wish I would stop replaying that fucked up thing. Akara reminds Farrow to look at my cut and Banks’ wounds, and so Farrow checks us before returning to Akara.

No stitches for us.

“You two should be good with new bandages,” Farrow says, putting on a new pair of black gloves. “If any of the wounds start itching or swelling, come get me immediately. Not the next day.”

“Sounds good,” I say, dropping the hem of my shirt.

Banks nods.

“Nice ink,” Oscar says to Akara, motioning to the snake tattoo along his upper chest, shoulder, and bicep. None of his wounds cut through the ink. All survived the cougar attack. Oscar quips, “What else have I missed?” He isn’t in Philly as often as the other bodyguards. Maybe his compliment is just to get on Akara’s good side after pissing him off.

“A lot,” Akara says easily and catches my eyes that ask, are we okay?

I just nod. I fucking want to be.

Feelings are fucked up. Like I know he couldn’t have meant what he said. Right? But just hearing them is messing with me.

Everyone is staring at me again, and I suddenly realize they think I’m infatuated with Akara and he’s decreed I’m not into her in that way.

Great.

Awesome.

I take out my phone. “I’m going to call my sister.” I walk away. Akara can’t follow because he’s about to be sutured.

Smell of campfire and burnt logs in the air, I hike down a sloped path towards the bathrooms. I hear Moffy about to follow, but Jane tells him, “Let me, old chap. I think this one is for the girls.”

My lip aches to rise as Jane catches up to me.