Wild Like Us (Like Us 8)

“You took a shower with her?” Maximoff asks suddenly.

“No,” I say. “I took one after her.” At least I’m not lying. He might only be twenty-four, but this third-degree feels like he’s her fifty-year-old father grilling my ass.

So I step out of their faces, and we all head for the same place. The rental cars where Oscar, Charlie, and Akara still talk.

On our trek, Farrow plucks a leaf out of Maximoff’s hair. He shows his husband. “You were saying?”

“I saw that,” Maximoff replies, trying to suppress a smile.

Farrow keeps smiling until Maximoff breaks his composure. Keeping pace, Farrow cups the back of Maximoff’s head, bringing him closer as they walk. Slipping each other affectionate smiles.

They have that storybook love.

What I used to call sentimental, sappy romance when I was a kid.

Attainable for only few. Like my Cinderella brother.

Maybe I thought of love as a storybook because it seemed unreal. Something I never had. Something I couldn’t grasp because I’d trip before reaching the door.

And the love I saw as a child was destroyed by a toxic divorce. One that ripped through my family like shrapnel. Sometimes I still feel the ache inside me, metal lodged underneath my skin.

Storybook love.

Now that I’m older, I know it’s just another word for soul mate. What the lucky few will find in their lifetime.

At least my brother found his.

I look up at the star-blanketed sky. Wondering if I should ask a higher being or my other brother if I’m meant for more.

My other brother.

I almost roll my eyes at myself. Love and hate tumbles through me in a nauseous mixture. Skylar is a sore subject, even in my fucking head.

“You okay, Banks?” Akara asks as we come up.

I must look how I feel. Christ, his concern puts a pit in my gut. For more than one reason. If I even mentioned the name Skylar, Akara wouldn’t know who the hell I’m talking about.

No one except Jane would.

The death of my older brother is long-forgotten. So buried that it never even leaked online when Thatcher got more famous.

Memories might fade, but his memory is still there. Wreaking havoc on me.

I love that Jane knows about him because I never had to vocalize the story. Never had to drudge up the history. Thatcher did all the work, and I reaped all the benefits.

Having someone else know is a weight off my chest. Some days it’s even a comfort.

Right now—staring at Akara—the second pit in my stomach is heavier.

I kissed Sulli.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” I cross my arms, scanning the parking lot.

I kissed Sulli. Fuck, I want to tell him.

Meeting this impact now and not later sounds way fucking better.

I kissed Sulli.

I uncross my arms. “You about ready?” I motion with my head to the motel room.

Akara nods, clasps Oscar’s hand in a goodbye.

“Wait, before you go,” Maximoff says to us. “We have a ton of extra food you should take for the car ride. We overbought.”

“Moffy overbought,” Jane corrects, approaching with Thatcher by her side.

“Overprepared,” Farrow chimes in, then explains to Akara. “We have about two hundred cups of applesauce. Ripley won’t finish all of it, and we need to make room.”

“We’ll take it,” Akara says. “Saves us from stopping constantly. We’ll make better time on the road.”

In the next few minutes, they wrap up to leave. Maximoff hands me a heavy grocery bag of applesauce cups and snack-sized packs of Teddy Grahams.

I hug my twin brother. “See you on the other side.”

Thatcher hugs tighter. “Stay on comms.”

“Is that my brother speaking or my lead?”

“Both.”

“Right on, right on,” I smile. It’s okay, Thatcher. I speak the words through my gaze. He’ll understand. He always does.

Thatcher nods stiffly.

I’ll be okay.

I have to believe I’m headed towards something good and beautiful. I’m headed towards her, aren’t I?

Soon, their cars are kicking up dirt and gravel. Leaving me alone with Akara. It’d be easier to tell him about the kiss right now. Not have a second where I’m keeping anything from him. But I understand why Sulli needs to do it, too. It’s the same reason I have to. We care too much about Akara. Simple as that.

We’re headed back to her now. So the truth will be out there sooner rather than later.

Trekking through the parking lot, I ask Akara, “How’d Jane, Maximoff, and Charlie come into the motel room earlier? They didn’t have a key.”

His mind seems to be somewhere else. And for the umpteenth fucking time, I wish I were in Akara Kitsuwon’s head.

13

AKARA KITSUWON

“I gave them my key,” I answer Banks, a little distantly. “They wanted to surprise Sulli.”

He shifts the grocery bag of Ripley’s extra applesauce and Teddy Grahams to his other hand. “They surprised me,” Banks says. “I nearly shit myself.” His tone is light-hearted.

I want to smile, but as we walk back to our motel room, I can’t stop picturing Sulli.