Alphas Like Us (Like Us 3)

But all of SFO are on that yacht, and it’s one short boat ride on the rib to board it.

Farrow hasn’t gone over there once. It’s different now that he’s a concierge doctor and not at Philly General all day. He’s confronted face-to-face with his old life on security a hundred times more.

And he has no radio for that quick hotline into SFO, and he’ll tell you that he didn’t lose anything that really mattered because he has me.

But in reality, he’s lost that part of his life, and I’m not sure he’ll ever get it back.

It hurts thinking about it, and luckily, his ringing phone breaks apart my thoughts.

“You going to answer that?” I ask.

He keeps his forearm on his knee and flips his phone in his hand a few times. “He’s most likely just inviting me to security’s boat.” He makes a choice though and presses speaker. Answering the call.

Music blasts in the background. “Redford!” Oscar yells. “Get your ass over here! Bring the Boyfriend!”

The Boyfriend. I’ve heard Oscar call me that a billion times, and I’m not gonna lie, it still fucking gets to me. In a good way. I’m someone’s boyfriend.

Maybe, in time, that title can be something more. The ring box is in my yacht cabin, but I don’t want to propose on my birthday.

I’m still waiting for the moment.

“You’re on speaker, and I’m relaxing, Oliveira,” Farrow says. “You’re killing my mood.”

Oscar laughs. “Come on. Donnelly and Kitsuwon miss your face, and my little bro is acting like he lost his favorite Golden Retriever.”

“Eh, no,” Farrow says like that’s that.

Maybe he doesn’t want to confront what he lost by being on security’s boat. “You guys can come over here,” I tell Oscar. “Bring SFO.”

Farrow tilts his head at me, but a smile plays at the corners of his mouth.

“The parents awake?” Oscar asks. “Most of us have been drinking. We’re off-duty tonight, but five-sixths of us care about making bad impressions.”

“Who’s the one-sixth?” Jane asks curiously, knuckles to her chin as she leans closer to the cell.

“Donnelly,” Farrow tells her.

“They’re not on the main deck,” I tell Oscar. “They’re probably not even going to be out here for the rest of the night.”

“Good enough for all of us,” Oscar says. “See you in fifteen.”

I stand off the couch, swinging my right arm in another stretch.

Farrow tosses aside his phone and watches me.

My feet are close to the pool. “You know I’m better than you at back-flipping,” I banter.

He pops a bubble in his mouth. “Marginally.”

“Colossally,” I rebut.

He’s about to respond, but the sliding glass doors push open. My little brother storms barefoot onto the main deck in sweatpants and an old New Mutants tee.

I solidify.

Some of Xander’s favorite vacations are on the yacht. No pressure to leave the boat, no strangers hounding him, and for the most part, he’s been in good spirits.

The way he approaches me with a darkening scowl—I’m aware that something is vitally wrong.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Janie setting down her coffee and standing off the ottoman. Farrow also rises to his feet.

I turn towards my brother. “You okay, Summers?”

“You tell me,” Xander snaps loudly, his phone gripped in a fist, knuckles whitened.

The chatty girl squad in the hot tub suddenly falls silent. On another set of couches, Eliot, Luna, and Tom are smoking—and their heads turn. Charlie, Beckett, and Sullivan look up from their game of Catan at an outdoor table. And Ben Cobalt stops reading his book on nature conservatories, only two lounge chairs away.

You tell me.

I shake my head once, confused. It’s not like Xander to draw attention to himself, but I’m witnessing so much hurt twisting up his face. And I step forward. “Xander?”

His chest rises and falls heavily. “So you didn’t knock on Easton Mulligan’s door and accuse him of taking my meds?”

Christ. “Xander—”

“Fuck you,” he says. And that rips me open, but he can’t see. Tears gather in his reddened eyes while I build barriers between me and my emotions.

I want to protect him, but I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve needed to protect him from something I did. From my choice, his mistake.

Our mistakes—I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.

“You’re my brother,” Xander says like that word means life itself. He pushes the longer strands of his hair back, and I step one more foot closer.

He grew another inch this summer. We’re the same height now, but I look at him and I just see my fragile little brother. And this is not what I wanted for him.

This is not how I saw things going.

I don’t have a chance to speak yet; he’s still getting it out.

“How could you even…?” His chin quakes. “…why wouldn’t you…” His face is beet-red, and Jane nears us like she’s about to put her arms around him.

Xander points his phone at her, the one in his death-grip. “Don’t.”

She skids to a stop. A couple feet from me.

“I don’t need you two doing that thing you do,” he says in short breaths, “where you act like you’re the big siblings who want to protect us.”

“What you did was wrong,” I say, my throat swollen. “And I am trying to protect you. I can’t change that.”

“I know what I did was wrong!” Xander screams and chokes on his words. “And I hate myself for it. And what are you even trying to protect me from?” He inhales sharply. “Myself? You can’t protect me from myself. It’s up here.” He points to his head. “It’s in here.” He jabs his cell to his chest. “It’s bigger than you or me. And you should have just…” His voice cracks. “…you should have come to me first. Not a kid down the street. Fucking…” He puts his hands on his head and glares at the night sky.

“I’m so sorry, Summers,” I say, my hand outstretched to him. He’s fighting tears that threaten to fall, and it hurts to watch. Hurts to speak, but I control everything for him. He doesn’t need me to scream and sob. “I should have confronted you. I should’ve, but it’s a heavy accusation. And I was fucking afraid. If you were supplying kids with drugs—”

“I stopped,” Xander says, pained. “That’s over.” But he suddenly frowns, head hanging in a weighted thought. “You’re going to tell Dad.” It’s not a question.

“No,” I

say. “You said it’s over. I believe you.”

“But what if I don’t believe you,” he says and walks backwards towards the saloon. He grinds down on his teeth and rubs his forearm to his watery eye.

I try to follow.

“No. I can’t—I don’t want to be around you,” he cries. He’s crying.

I nod stiffly. “Alright.” I almost sway back, and Farrow nears me—and I shake my head at him. If he touches me, I will burst open and probably scream or cry or both. He’s the only one that can make me come undone, and I’m not unraveling in front of all the teenagers.

Luna jogs across the deck to reach Xander. Her light brown hair whipping behind her, and she’s still doing the plain outfit thing, no thanks to her asshole boyfriend. But Luna didn’t invite Andrew on the trip. You should know that our dad hates him just as much as me, and he hasn’t even met Andrew yet. Or seen how pushy and undercutting he is.

I met him once and I almost punched him after he told my sister, “You’re so much prettier when you don’t swing your arms when you walk.” Even though she doesn’t see him as much, Luna said that I wasn’t allowed to hang with them anymore. So there’s that fallout. I’m just doing great with my siblings lately.

Perfect big brother.

The best, let me tell you.

I watch Luna hug Xander, and his body shudders against her gangly frame. And then Kinney climbs out of the hot tub in a black one-piece swimsuit. My youngest sister joins Luna and Xander, and they all leave into the main saloon. Glass doors sliding closed behind them.

I blink. Those are my three siblings.

All the Hales.

And I’m left here. I hurt him. I hurt him. I crack my taut neck, pressure on my chest.

“Maximoff,” Farrow breathes.

I turn to face my boyfriend, chatter starting back up around the main deck. “You told me this would happen,” I whisper, rubbing my knuckles. I see how he wants to take my hand in his hand. I see how he wants to bring me to his chest. It hurts even more to not draw closer, to not let him touch me, but I also can’t—not here.

He inhales. “I said it was a bad idea. I didn’t say this would happen.”