Alphas Like Us (Like Us 3)

Real people and lives—and my brother’s life.

I don’t want either of us to move Xander around a board like a rook on H-6.

Charlie’s golden-brown hair blows in the wind. “I’m not seeing many volunteers here to accompany you on this excursion,” he says. “So we do this my way.”

I shake my head. It can never be easy with us. “This is bigger than the bullshit between you and me.”

Charlie looks annoyed. “You think I’m here for some petty reason, but maybe consider that I’m the only one by your side because I actually understand.” He steals my Ray Bans off my head and slips them on his eyes.

Those last three words cave my chest. I actually understand.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Charlie shifts his crutches beneath his armpits. “Nothing.” He glances at the Cobalt Estate, pink tulip trees lining a driveway that leads up to a regal fountain and ornate mansion. It’s nothing like my childhood house that I just passed, which is stone and brick with a fir tree in the front yard.

“It’s not nothing,” I say, failing at softening my tone. I’m trying. I’m trying. I know I need to try harder for him. “Charlie, I want to understand.”

He’s quiet.

“I’m fucking sorry. Please.”

He hooks my Ray Bans on the collar of his button-down, the leg of his slacks cut to make room for his cast. Charlie looks tormented, his features fracturing in emotion that I can’t pick apart.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Charlie…” Something happened.

He pinches his eyes, then he puts his weight back on his crutches. And I remember that any act of “heroism” on my part causes him pain and frustration.

And it’s plunging a knife into my gut.

I drop my hand, and we don’t continue our trek yet.

Charlie stays still. “I’ve thought about telling you before now…” He struggles to make a decision, staring up at the sky. “My brother needs more than me to care about him, and you’re the logical choice because you’ll care excessively to the point of stupidity.”

I ignore that last insult. “Which brother?”

Charlie takes his weight off his crutches again. “My twin brother.” This is serious. “Every night Beckett is on stage, he strives for perfection in ballet. It’s an impossible goal, and he’s worn his body down to the point of pain. A couple years ago, he found a fix.”

A lump makes its ascent in my throat.

“Cocaine,” Charlie says plainly, clearly.

I didn’t know. I doubt many people in our families do. “Charlie,” I breathe, so much tunneling through me. Concern for Beckett, for Charlie, and wanting to console them both, but I don’t know how in this instance. I don’t know what they need.

So I wait and listen.

“He’s a beautiful dancer,” Charlie says, clearing his throat, almost choked. “One of the best in the world, and it won’t take words from me or anyone else to convince him to stop. Not even you.”

It slices me open for a second.

He winces. “And now that you know this, there’s a sick part of me that loves that you’ll be hurting with me.” His chin almost quakes, and he drops his head, dragging his gaze across the cement.

Then he ambles forward.

“Charlie, wait.” I’ll hurt with him if that’s what he needs. I’ll share in his pain. I’ll do anything for him…I know that’s partly the problem. Heroism.

He stops. Looks up at me.

“We’re doing this together?” I ask. “Don’t leave me behind.”

Charlie takes a breath and nods. “I understand watching your siblings make a mistake and not having the ability to shake them. And all you can do is search for a solution. Any solution.”

Everything clicks. “The auction,” I realize.

He slips the sunglasses back on and pulls at his hair. “I convinced Beckett to do the auction because I knew he’d have to take leave from ballet again. He missed Swan Lake, and he won’t return until rehearsals for Cinderella begin. He’s clean for now.”

That’s good. “Who knows?” I wonder.

“Me, Oscar, and Donnelly,” Charlie says. “Now you, and I’m assuming Jane and Farrow won’t be far behind. But don’t let it go further than them.”

“I won’t.” I’m surprised that Charlie’s bodyguard knew. If I remember correctly, Farrow told me that Oscar didn’t know anything. Since Farrow never lies to me, I’m assuming that Oscar lied to Farrow.

Charlie supports himself on his crutches. “So now can we do this my way?”

I fight every instinct in me that says to hold on to the figurative wheel, but I nod once and relinquish control.

We ring the doorbell on the stone stoop of a stucco mansion, a welcome mat beneath our feet. Hanging ferns flank the wide front door, and Charlie leans most of his weight on one crutch.

We wait.

A few tense seconds pass before the wooden door swings open. I prepared to meet Easton’s mom or dad or maybe even a sibling—it seemed more plausible—but the face staring back at me can’t be older than sixteen.

First impressions: messy chocolate hair, long aquiline nose, pale sheet-white skin and pinpointed hazel eyes. A navy blue Dalton Academy honor society shirt hangs on his lanky frame. Definitely not built like a jock, and for some reason, I thought he’d be buffer. Older.

He just seems young to me. Really young.

I don’t know what it is with me and kids around my sibling’s age, but it fucking gets to me. Like there’s a part of me that just wants to protect this boy. And I don’t know him—but I do know he’s a wrench in my brother’s life and I know Xander is partly to blame—but I also see a human being in front of me.

I never forget that. I can’t.

“Are you Easton Mulligan?” I ask, ready to solve this crisis with Charlie.

“Yeah…” he says slowly and looks from me to my cousin. “And you’re Maximoff Hale and Charlie Cobalt.” He hangs onto his door. “Um…so Xander didn’t say anything about you two coming over.” He hones in on Charlie’s cast.

Even with a broken leg and bent on a crutch, Charlie evokes supreme confidence. His take-no-shit demeanor intimidates the kid so much that he tries to look at me for comfort.

I’m not that soft either, but I think I’m empathetic enough that his uncertain eyes linger on me.

“We’ll make this quick,” Charlie tells him. “We’re here because you’re getting pills from Xander Hale.”

Easton frowns. “How do you—”

I raise my phone, already on the text that I screen-shotted from Ben’s phone. “You’ve been bragging about it.”

“Shit…” Easton curses again. His widened eyes flit between us.

“Here’s what’ll happen,” Charlie says, sharpness to his voice. He hands me the crutch that he’s not using.

Don’t ask me what he’s up to. I don’t know. I’m on edge, holding my breath.

Charlie slips out a piece of paper and passes it to Easton. “This is a phone number to a doctor in Philadelphia. He’ll prescribe whatever you want. Just give him a call, let him know who you are, and you can get your pills legally.”

What the fuck.

Easton frowns and reads the paper. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this for me?”

“Because you’re going to stop taking Xander’s pills,” Charlie says.

Easton shakes his head. “I’m not—I mean, I am, but…” He looks to me. “You do know that Xander gets refills about a month before he’s even out. For me.”

I don’t move or flinch or react. I didn’t know.

The boy glances back into his house, then comes forward and shuts the door behind him. Fully on the front porch. He speaks more to me than to Charlie. “My parents aren’t as nice as yours…I tell my mom I’m not doing well, and she tells me it’s summer allergies.” He shakes his head. “Dude, I would never take pills Xander needed. That’d be…that’s fucked up.”

Th

is…is not what I expected. I try to grasp onto the truth. Uncover it. Xander was helping this kid? I don’t understand, and it’s still not okay that my brother was giving someone his meds. Even if he had extra. A pressure mounts on my chest, something screaming at me: I don’t know what’s right. Fuck. I don’t know what’s right.

I crawl onward. “Why were you bragging about it then?”

His face crushes. “I…because Colton Ford found out I was getting into LARPing with your brother. He kept calling me a…”

“A pussy?” I’m guessing.

“Yeah…” He nods.

I had that word slung in my face in high school too many times.

“Your friend is an idiot,” Charlie says bluntly.

Agreed.

Easton shifts his weight. “I panicked and I said that stupid thing, and then the next day, I told Xander and apologized. He knows.” His brows knit. “And shouldn’t you know this? He would’ve told you…” Realization floods his face. “Wait, he doesn’t know you’re here?”

Charlie and I stay silent, not giving information to a stranger.

In the quiet, Easton folds the paper like a treasure. Unable to look Charlie in the eyes, he tells him, “Thanks for this.”