“A knife.”
Farrow rolls his eyes.
“Spin around, Moretti,” Oscar says.
Thatcher hesitates, but then he spins, elastic bands framing his bare ass. Sulli and Jane cheer, and the guys golf-clap. Except for Farrow, who couldn’t care less.
My cousins start marking their scores, and Thatcher takes the driver’s seat, letting Akara return to the lounge.
I rest my elbows on my knees, hunched.
“What are you feeling?” Farrow asks me.
“Lightly spinning,” I tell Farrow. “It’s not that bad right now…” I lose track of my thought as Charlie appears. He drops down from his bunk and determinedly beelines for the driver.
I can overhear him through the music and chatter. “Stop the bus at the next exit,” he tells Thatcher. “You need to park at the Dairy Queen.”
What? I call out to Charlie, “It’s Christmas Eve. Dairy Queen isn’t open.”
Charlie ignores me.
I bottle whatever weird feeling sits in my stomach and head. My shoulders more squared. Alert.
Thatcher turns the wheel, the bus coasting along the exit ramp. “Is there a reason?” he asks Charlie.
“You’ll see in a second,” Charlie says, more concerned than usual. His arms crossed over his chest. He even stays at the front of the bus.
Beckett shuts off the music and stops video-recording. Everyone is quiet.
Oscar pushes to the front and speaks hushed to Charlie, who barely responds. Chatter escalates again, and I give Janie a look. “I wish he’d share something with us.”
“We don’t know what it is yet,” she whispers.
Farrow wraps an arm around my waist. I want to lean my weight into him, but my joints feel unoiled and immovable.
I’m on guard.
Maybe Charlie can feel my glare drilling into him. Because he swings his head over his shoulder and says, “Patience isn’t a strong suit of yours.”
“Then tell me why we’re going to Dairy Queen,” I retort.
Charlie messes his already messy hair. “You always have to be in everyone’s business. Just relax. Take a back seat for once in your life.” Spite drips off those words.
“I don’t want to drive your fucking car, Charlie. I just want to know where the destination is.”
“I thought we were going to Dairy Queen,” Donnelly says to break the tension.
It doesn’t work.
Nothing ever works when it comes to Charlie and me. The bus rolls to a stop, and an unlit Dairy Queen appears outside the window. Parking lot empty except for a green beat-up Jetta that I don’t recognize.
As soon as the bus idles, a knock pounds the door.
I stiffen.
Who the hell did Charlie invite on the bus?
Thatcher unbuckles, and he’s the first to head down the stairs and unlock the door. I hear him apologize about his underwear, and he warns the person about the contest.
It’s a girl.
I just know it’s a girl.
I stand. Farrow stands.
My pulse thumps a mile-a-minute. Footsteps sound on the steps, and then…my little sister pops into view. Light brown hair tied in a loose top bun.
Luna hooks her fingers in the straps of a neon green backpack. Looking between all of us, cheeks rosy from the cold, she says, “Hey. Hi. Heidi. Ho. Howdy.” And waves like this is nothing.
Dear World, how did she get here? Why is she here? How did Charlie know? Did she call him? Why didn’t she call me? Do our parents have any idea where she is? Sincerely, a concerned brother.
Farrow beats everyone. “Where the fuck is J.P.?” Her 24/7 bodyguard.
Akara already has a phone to his ear.
I kneel on the couch and careen my head to try and peer out the window. No one else is in the parking lot.
“Oh…” Luna glances at Charlie. “You didn’t tell them yet?”
“I thought you should,” he says, hands in his black slacks.
“What the hell is going on?” I almost growl.
“So yeah.” Luna rocks on the balls of her feet, but keeps eye contact with me. “I kind of ditched J.P.”
I see red. Tunnel-vision on Charlie. The one person who fucking knew. I storm ahead and grab Charlie by the sleeve of his sweater. “Outside. Now.”
26
MAXIMOFF HALE
Ice on the asphalt crunches underneath our soles. We near the curb of the Dairy Queen entrance, and wind whips around us as furiously as I feel.
Farrow and Oscar hover close. The only other two people outside with us. Probably to ensure Charlie and I don’t kill each other.
“She called me!” Charlie yells. “You’re mad at the wrong person!”
“I don’t think I am!” I scream, cold stinging my throat. “You’re the one who could’ve told me. Told us. Told a fucking bodyguard—anyone on Omega should’ve known she’d be here without her own bodyguard.” I shake my head, rage throttling my bones. Screaming at me to drive closer. To shake him.
To make him see.
See how my sister could’ve been hurt. Could’ve been kidnapped, raped or murdered on her journey across the fucking country. Alone.
“You knew she was driving here, and you didn’t tell anyone!” I yell. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouts back, edging closer. Closer, only five feet apart. “I’m the one who kept tabs on her!” He points a finger at his chest. “I’m the one who gave her directions here! I’m the one who made sure she didn’t get lost or drive off the side of the fucking road!”
“Great,” I sneer. “Fucking fantastic, Charlie. If your brothers reached out to me, I would’ve never let them travel without a bodyguard. So thanks for helping out my sister, thanks a lot.”
Charlie looks like he wants to rip off my head.
I want to poke out his eyes with a goddamn serrated knife. I am out for blood. I feel like he knowingly hurt my sister. He’s smarter than anyone I’ve ever known, so why the hell would he risk her life like this? “You have beef with me, fine, but don’t drag my sister into this—”
“I didn’t,” Charlie snaps, and I back off for a single second. Because he looks twenty, his actual age, and his eyes flit in hurt.
That accusation hurt him.
“She called me,” he repeats. “There isn’t an ulterior motive. I’m not sorry that you can’t stand the fact that she didn’t call you. That for the first time in forever, you weren’t the chosen one. Get the fuck over it.”
“Fuck you,” I snap. “This isn’t a pissing contest. It’s about my sister’s safety—”
“She told me not to tell you. How about that?” Charlie retorts.
I’m already shaking my head.
“Of course you don’t believe me.” Wind tosses his golden-brown hair. “She didn’t want you to worry, Moffy. Because that’s what you do.”
I bite down. “But you could’ve still told me.”
“Like y
ou would’ve told me if that had been my siblings. If that had been Eliot or Tom or Ben or Audrey—like you would’ve shared anything with me?”
I gape. “I’ve fucking tried. For years, Charlie, I’ve tried. You never answer, you never reply. You hang up on me, so I stopped. You want me to start filling you in when they call me? I will, I fucking will.”
Charlie grinds his teeth, pain leeching his face.
What is it?
What did I do? I feel like I’m close to an answer that I’ve never seen. Never held. “Charlie—”
“I’m not your wingman or your sidekick. I don’t need you.”
I breathe heavily like we’re running for our lives in the same endless circle. “Then you don’t need me, but being a good brother, a good cousin, even, means protecting the people we love. And what you did could’ve killed her.”
He nods slowly. “Just say it, you coward.”
“You’re a shit cousin.”
Charlie charges me. I let him tackle me to the asphalt. I even let his fist bang into my jaw. Then I return the blow. We’re all anger and fists and unspoken pasts and pain.
I don’t see clear until hands wedge underneath my armpits and thrust me backwards. I spit a wad of blood onto the ice.
Charlie’s cheekbone swells, and Oscar seizes him around the waist. Restraining my cousin.
Regret gnaws at me. From behind me, Farrow wraps his bicep around my collarbone, the embrace protective and calming.
Oscar looks between Charlie and me. “You two get that out of your systems? The moment we step onto that bus, it’s a no-fighting zone.”
We’re quiet.
“Maximoff,” Farrow says, his even-keeled heartbeat thumps against my back. Soothing me, and I take these deep breaths that ache with regret.
“We’re good,” I mutter, but a for now hangs in the air. Because even with fists and fleeting hugs and half-hearted apologies—our discord never seems to end.
We return to the bus, and Charlie darts for the bathroom. Beckett springs up from the couch and follows. Door slams, and an ornament attached to the ceiling thuds to the floor.
Jane, Sulli, and Luna are on one couch beneath a giant fleece blanket. Watching Babes in Toyland on the screen. I meet Janie’s big blue eyes that say calm down. Be nice.
I’ll try not to be a hardass.
Akara’s voice escalates from the privacy of the second lounge. “No, you can’t talk your way out of this! There’s no defending it!” Donnelly, Quinn, and Thatcher must be in there, and I’m guessing they’re on the phone with J.P., Luna’s bodyguard who fucked up.