Farrow and Oscar glance at each other.
“I’m not going back there. I’ve had enough drama.” Oscar camps out on the driver’s seat and slides the door shut, blocking out the first lounge. Bus is still parked.
“You need ice?” Farrow asks me.
“No.” I crack a reddened knuckle, and we both sit on the available couch. So close together, my thigh presses against his thigh.
Luna gawks at my bloody lip. “I didn’t think you’d fight with him.”
“It’s fine.” I rake a hand through my thick hair. “What’s not cool is that you ditched your bodyguard. You know how unsafe that is? Paparazzi could’ve run you off the road, you could’ve been hurt—”
“I was safe,” she says quickly. “No paparazzi tailed me, and I traded my Kia for that used Jetta. I had a plan. A solid A-plus plan. And J.P. would’ve snitched on me to Mom and Dad. They both would’ve said no, and I wanted to be…here with all of you.”
She sniffs, eyes watering.
“Did you call Mom and Dad?” I ask and stand up.
She nods. “Dad wants you to call him.”
Alright.
I near and bend down to hug my sister. I squeeze tight, and she squeezes back tighter. “I’m glad you’re safe, Luna. I love you.”
Her tears wet my shoulder.
I kiss the top of her head, and when I back up, Jane gives Luna a side-hug. “We’re lucky to have you here. This bus was missing some Luna love.”
“Totally,” Sulli agrees and passes the cookie bag to Luna.
“Watch out,” I say, “those are disgusting.”
At that, Luna basically shoves the whole cookie in her mouth and mumbles, “Cool, pot cookies.”
“Wait, what?” My mouth falls.
Farrow rises.
Color drains in Jane’s cheeks. “Merde.”
Sulli’s green eyes grow to saucers. “Huh?”
Luna chews, crumbs fall out of her lips. “You guys don’t taste the weed?”
Farrow snatches the cookie bag as she goes to grab a second one. Thank you. He sniffs the cookie and then yells, “Donnelly!”
Back door cracks open, and Donnelly slips out, shutting it behind him. “What? Beckett?” He walks past the bunks.
“He’s fine,” Farrow snaps. “Did you bring pot cookies on the bus?”
Donnelly relaxes. “Yeah, some girl was selling them at that last rest stop. They’re good, right?”
Mystery solved. I’m high.
Fucking A.
Jane leans forward to look at Donnelly. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“You didn’t know?” Donnelly frowns. “They’re not mild. They taste like—”
“Okay, these three,” Farrow says and points to me, Jane, and Sulli, “have never smoked weed. Let alone eaten edibles. They don’t know what that shit tastes like.”
Sulli can’t pick up her dropped jaw. “I thought it was organic.”
Donnelly looks around for his client. “Beckett would’ve tasted the weed.”
Wow. So I just learned my younger cousin has smoked pot before.
And so has my little sister.
Awesome…facts. I rub my dry, scratchy eyes. But sarcasm aside, I’m glad I know.
“He didn’t eat any,” Jane tells Donnelly.
Sulli has her fingers to her lips. Her deep contemplation face at play. “When will we feel…the effects?” she asks.
“I dunno.” Donnelly shrugs and leaves for the back like nothing happened.
“Probably soon,” Farrow answers, and he’s staring right at me. Assessing. Kind of smiling. He’s always smiling, come on. Am I going to be paranoid? Will I just fall asleep? My stomach keeps tossing. Maybe I’ll puke and be done with this—or I won’t feel anything. I’m immune to pot.
The pot killer.
That didn’t sound right. I laugh. Oh Christ…why am I laughing? I hone in on Farrow, and he has a hand to his mouth.
“What?” I lower his hand that hides full-blown amusement.
“You’re so pure.”
I let out a dry laugh. “You’re so funny.”
He runs his tongue over his lip piercing. “I wasn’t that funny.”
I blink and blink. “Thank you for reminding me that you’re a kill-joy.”
“I only kill your joy, wolf scout. I leave everyone else’s alone.”
“Thank you twice over, then,” I say, sarcastic, and I nod a few times. He nods as well, his smile growing and I’m trying damn hard not to smile back—my phone rings. Interrupting whatever that was. Flirting? Head-nod flirting isn’t a thing.
I’m not trying to make it one either. It’s weird.
I’m weird.
Caller ID: DAD.
Alright, I’m high for the first time. And I can without a doubt say that I’m not prepared for anything right now. I haven’t had a long conversation with my dad since the lake house. I can’t even tell you how we left things.
It was like we placed a semi-colon or an ellipsis on the end of a sentence. To be continued. Without an idea of when or where.
Answer the call, a voice whispers somewhere.
I know I’m really high because I listen to that fucking weird-ass voice. And I accept the call.
27
FARROW KEENE
Maximoff is so out of it, he lets me clasp his hand and lead him to the second lounge. I’d smile, but I still can’t believe he answered that call.
He holds his phone to his ear, listening to his dad talk. Not saying anything yet in reply.
I swing open the door. Finding Akara and Thatcher in a heated discussion about J.P., and I say, “Get the fuck out. Maximoff has to take a call, and both your clients are high in the first lounge.”
They all bolt into the hall.
Alone, I shut the door, and Maximoff sinks down on a couch, clothes littered everywhere from when the rest of Omega and I undressed. I lower the volume of the musical Christmas lights, and he presses speakerphone.
“…she’s having a hard time here, and I’ve thought about flying out to you a million goddamn times,” his dad says, “but if your mom and I drag Luna home, she could just leave again. Next time, it could be somewhere worse…and at least she ran to you.”
I sit calmly next to Maximoff, but hearing his dad talk reminds me of the years I spent beside Lo and Lily. And each time he turned to me, talked to me.
Trusted me.
At a café breakfast while we waited for Lily in the bathroom, Lo told me, “I woke up this morning, and I went, goddamn, I’m an adult. It still blows my mind that I lived this long, and Lil and I somehow managed to gift the world those four dorks.” He stared lovingly at his teenage children, a few tables away.
Kinney, Xander, Luna, and Maximoff loudly discussed who was better: Batman or Iron Man.
“Parenting never gets easier,” he said to me. “Not when you love them, and you need to be hard on them, but you’re afraid to break them. And you think you’re doing everything right as a parent because you know what’s wrong, but still, it’s inevitable. We’ll fail. We always do, but if I learned anything in my fucked-up life, it’s that picking ourselves up is what matters. And Lily and I—her and me—we can survive anything. And if we can, they can.” He nodded, then looked to me. “Words of wisdom from an unwise man. Take it or leave it.”
I told him, “It’s better than anything my old man has ever said.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “No offense, I’d believe you more if you weren’t fighting with him.”
I smiled. “True.” But I tried to find a memory where my father looked at me the way that Loren Hale looked at his kids.
Medicine was supposed to bring me closer to family, but I’d never felt the strength of one until I joined security. Shit, I could feel how deep and connected Lily and Lo were to their kids. It doesn’t surprise me how empathetic Maximoff is when he has parents like that.
On the tour bus, Maximoff digests his dad’s words slowly. “So…” he says. “
You want Luna to stay?”
“Do I want her to stay? Hell no,” Lo tells him. “But when she talked to me and your mom, she said she felt internally ‘trapped’—like she couldn’t breathe, and she just needed to get out.”
Fame is a motherfucker. Stifling. And Luna is flighty, restless. With that combination, I’m not that shocked she’d try to leave Philly if the opportunity appeared. And it did with this tour.
I unwrap a piece of gum, and Maximoff lies back on the couch, his legs outstretched over my lap. Phone on his chest. He fixates on the blinking lights.
I wave a hand in front of his face. Come on, wolf scout.
“Huh?” He rubs his eyes.
“Can we FaceTime?” Lo asks, concern in his voice.
“I’m alright.” He licks his lips. “So let me get this straight. Luna is staying here?” He tries to sit up, but he just falls back down.
I restrain a laugh and pop gum in my mouth. He flips me off.
“We’re hoping a short experience away from home will make her feel better,” Lo explains. “One month on the bus, then we’re flying her back to finish homeschooling. And she’s agreed to see a therapist again.” He pauses. “You can say no, Moffy. It’s a lot to handle, and if you’re too stressed—”