Lovers Like Us (Like Us 2)

“Statistically proven,” Beckett says, “zero percent of the time.”

Maximoff starts smiling, even covered in blood.

I barely glance at Donnelly. “Looks like your client is smarter than you.”

Donnelly pats Beckett’s back. “Learned from the best. Me.” Such a buddy-guard.

Oscar squeezes through the hallway. “That’s a negative thing, Donnelly.” He skids to a halt by the door and winces at Maximoff. “Ouch.”

Quinn peeks his head in. “God, I know how that feels.” He points at the scar along his crooked nose. “Two years ago, right hook in the ring.”

“What’s that scar from?” Sulli wedges in and points at the tiny scar below his eye, and she tosses the ice baggie wrapped in a towel to Beckett. He catches it.

I’d really love for this unnecessary audience to evacuate the bathroom and hallway and stop distracting Maximoff. Who at this point has completely rotated his head away from them, and he stares at the wall.

“Skin split from another boxing match,” Quinn says. “I KO’d the other guy.”

Oscar and Donnelly start clapping in jest, and normally, I would’ve joined the mock applause, but I need these fuckers out of the bathroom.

“Okay.” I chew my gum. “I can’t do my best work with you bastards shadowing the light.” I’m not about to say, hey guys, Maximoff has trouble being vulnerable in front of people, so please kindly exit. No. I gesture to the Omega bodyguards. “Get the fuck out.”

As Donnelly leaves, he blows me a middle-finger kiss, and Oscar makes some remark about me being territorial. Quinn asks if I need anything, and Oscar sticks his head back in, just to mouth, my brother loves you. He bats his lashes.

I pop my gum and just tell Quinn, “Ibuprofen for Maximoff.”

Once they disperse, Beckett stays in the bathroom with Sulli in the doorway.

I train my focus on Maximoff. “I need to touch your nose and feel for a fracture.”

His joints lock up.

I’m not going to hurt you. I express that through my eyes, and then he nods. I lightly skim my thumb down the swollen bridge before pinching a little.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, the only sign of pain. “I’m fine,” he tries to assure me.

I concentrate on a centimeter of bone, adding almost no force as I run my finger back and forth. Shit. I drop my hand when I’m 100% certain.

“He’s prone to nosebleeds,” Beckett tells me. “This happened years back at that yacht party, and the bone didn’t break.”

Maximoff holds my gaze strongly, both of us remembering that moment. I was there. I stood on the yacht deck and saw him fight Charlie on the dock below.

He was nineteen.

I was twenty-four, on the very, very cusp of a career change from medicine to security. Even back then, I found myself investing my interest in Maximoff Hale.

I wanted to intervene on his behalf. Fuck, I would’ve loved to pull him out of that fight. But a silent Hale-Cobalt-Meadows declaration always hangs in the air: do not interject in familial arguments.

Even me, the maverick on the security team, hasn’t bent that rule out of shape, but to come to his aid, I’ve wanted to.

Many times.

Maximoff breaks eye contact and fixes a narrowed look on his cousin. “Thanks, Beckett,” he says dryly.

“I didn’t bring it up to be an asshole,” Beckett clarifies. “Farrow should know your medical history.”

Maximoff growls in frustration and tries to roll his head backwards.

I tighten my grip on his jaw, keeping him bent forward. “Don’t move.”

“Just tell me the diagnosis,” Maximoff says, still pinching his nose. “I need facial reconstructive surgery, right? A brain transplant tomorrow? Probably a full-body cast and a coffin fitting?”

I smile while chewing my gum. This guy, man. “You can keep going.”

He glowers. “I’m done.”

“That’s too bad,” I say seriously and slide off the counter, my chest brushing up against his chest. I keep hold of his jaw. “I love watching a Harvard Dropout self-diagnose a nosebleed as a full-body injury.”

He’d flip me off if he could.

My hand descends, and I rub the back of his neck. My other fingers hover by his wrist. “Bleeding looks like it’s slowed.” I draw his hand down so he stops pinching his nose. No blood dripping. That’s good.

“And?” he asks.

“No surgery, no X-rays. You only need ice and pain meds. It’s just a small break.” I’ve seen several minor nose fractures in the ER like his. I take the ice from Beckett. “Keep the ice across the bridge of your nose and be gentle. It’ll help with swelling.”

His shoulders loosen, relaxed at the news. I know what concerns him—and it’s not pain—it’s calling the concierge doctor, scheduling a surgery date, and derailing the meet-and-greet tour where fans, crew, and everyone on the bus are counting on him.

Maximoff splays the ice baggie across the bone, and I wash my hands in the sink.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Sulli says again. “If you want to bail on the ultra marathon, I totally get it.”

Maximoff speaks for three full minutes, assuring Sulli that he can easily still run. The race isn’t soon either, and regardless, they won’t have that much time to train on tour.

Beckett sips his beer and watches me wipe my hands on a towel. Blue and yellow braided “friendship” bracelets are tied loose on his wrists. Identical to the ones on Sulli’s ankles.

He has a question for me. I can tell. “Ask,” I say and toss the towel on the counter.

“Is Maximoff your first relationship?”

“No.”

Maximoff extends his hand. “Beckett, let’s not go here, alright?”

Beckett turns on him. “Have you asked Farrow why his other relationships ended? Did he break up with them or was it the other way around? How many guys has he been in love with—”

“Man,” I cut him off, “no offense, but I’m not in a relationship with you. If Maximoff wants these answers, I’ll tell him, but I’m not holding a public forum.”

Beckett skims the length of me for the fifth time now. “Why not? You have something to hide?”

“Stop, Beck,” Maximoff warns.

Sulli wavers uneasily, disliking confrontation.

“I’m just looking out for you, Moffy,” Beckett says while zeroing in on me. As though I’m prey, but it’d take more than this kid’s skepticism to arch my back and reach for a figurative gun.

I lift my brows and chew my gum casually. He stares harder. My nonchalance is grating on him.

“I appreciate the concern,” Maximoff says, “but I’m highly capable of dealing with my relationship on my own.” His voice is firm and unyielding. All alpha.

My smile stretches, roped in for a second, but as I turn, I realize quickly that Beckett mistakes my reaction for arrogance. Like I’m toting a win over his head and smirking, Maximoff took my side, not yours.

Not the

case.

Not the truth.

“I don’t play under the table,” Beckett says to me, “so I’m putting this out in the open.” He mimics me, raising his brows. “I don’t trust you—”

“You don’t trust me because you don’t know me—”

“Whatever the case,” Beckett says.

And I spot Akara in my peripheral, lingering. He whispers to Sulli, and she nods before slipping out.

Beckett continues, “If you betray my cousin, all seven Cobalts will destroy you far worse than you could ever hurt him.”

“Fair enough,” I say, more so acknowledging Akara who motions me out of the bathroom. As I leave into the first lounge, Maximoff shuts the door and starts talking privately with Beckett.

Most of SFO are spread out on the gray couches, eavesdropping. Oscar stands and whispers to me, “They haven’t dealt with siblings or cousins in serious relationships. You’re the first.”

“I realize that.” I comb a hand through my bleached hair. “You know Kinney Hale would’ve stabbed you in the eye for calling her ex-girlfriend not serious.”

Oscar motions from his chest to mine. “You and I know puppy love isn’t serious. What is she, nine?”

“Thirteen.” I run my hand over my jawline. “She’ll ‘revoke’ your membership to that Rainbow Brigade shit if you’re not careful.”

Oscar almost laughs, and he reties a rolled bandana around his forehead. “It’s not real until she makes pins.”

“Tell her that.” I glance at Akara who finishes chatting with someone on a bunk. He motions me further down the hall and into the second lounge.

Before I follow, Oscar lowers his voice another octave. “Seriously though, I know Maximoff is one of the hottest celebrities, and I can imagine what the sex is like—”

“No you can’t,” I say easily.

His mouth parts. “Now I’m gonna need details.”

I let out a short laugh and glance at Akara, who’s waiting. “Oscar—”

“You have to ask yourself,” he whispers, “if dealing with these families on a personal level, not professional, is really worth it. Because I know you, you’ll get in the trenches and fight until you die. But now’s the time to step out while you still can.”

I chew my gum slowly and shake my head. “I’d never commit, fuck a guy, then break up. And I’m not about to crush him because I’m scared of his family when I’m not even a little bit afraid.”