Wild Like Us

by Krista Ritchie

  So I fought harder to be better.

  For an entire year and a half, I was the bodyguard to Tom Cobalt, and then I was transferred to the position—the one that told the rest of security, I’m good enough to be here.

  For the security team, that’s always a Meadows detail.

  For me, that was always going to be Sulli’s. The girl that was bound for the Olympics. The one with enough drive and passion to light the world on fire.

  She’s what I wanted.

  She’s what I got.

  But I’ve known that I can’t have her forever, it’s just that I didn’t think my time would be cut short this soon. Connor told me, “As long as your gym and your security firm keep growing, you’re going to have to make a decision one day. And that day is coming soon, Akara. Be a full-time bodyguard or be a businessman. There’s a great chance you won’t be able to do both.”

  I’ve always wanted to be in business.

  To build my empire with what my dad left me when he died. The more my companies grow, the more I’m honoring him.

  But some part of me is resisting the giant leap towards business. When the opportunity came knocking to franchise my gym, I rejected it. Too much work. Too big of a project away from security.

  I didn’t want to leave Sulli then.

  And now—it’s not any easier. I’ve loved every moment being her bodyguard, and a gnawing, bittersweet feeling overcomes me when I consider walking away from her. It’s the end of a huge chapter of my life.

  It’s the end of a fucking era with her, and how am I supposed to say goodbye?

  So I thought having Banks gradually fill in for me would ease the transition, but it’s not easing a damn thing. It still feels like pouring salt on an open wound.

  Back at the Jeep, I tear off the gas receipt. And instinctively, I look back at the store for Sulli. She’s laughing while he motions her forward. And then she stuffs the rest of the donut in Banks’ mouth, smiling. He’s near-laughter and trying not to choke.

  Banks likes her.

  It’s not the first time I’ve seen it. Not the first time I’ve thought about it. Shit, I’ve thought a lot about the idea of Banks & Sulli together.

  Romantically.

  My jaw tenses at that word. But at least my glare isn’t drilling fifty holes in the cement parking lot. Fuck. If Banks were any other guy—if I didn’t know him so well—I’d be running into the gas station and twirling her towards me. To protect her from the bastards of the world.

  She’s like a sister. I rest against Booger. Yeah, she’s like a sister.

  But Banks is the kind of guy I’d pair with my sister in a heartbeat. He’s considerate, honorable, selfless—he treats women like they’re gods among mortal men. He’d worship her.

  I’d run to the ends of the earth for her.

  I shake the thought away. Why the hell does that matter? Banks isn’t Will Rochester. He’s not a shitstain or a prick like her ex-boyfriend. If she likes him, she should be with him.

  But even trying to picture their first date deadbolts my brain. I go blank and self-eject.

  I’m not jealous.

  My chest sinks. I can’t be jealous…

  More likely, I’ve never been a real third wheel with Sulli. Even with Will, she chose to hang around me over him. She’d constantly turn to me.

  Talk to me.

  Play with me—teasingly, friendly.

  Being a third wheel—this is just new to me. Something I’m not used to. It’s making me feel weird shit. That has to be it.

  Banks leads Sulli out of the store, a plastic bag in his hand and in hers. I nod to Sul, “What’s the damage?”

  She bypasses me with a short, fleeting look. “Donuts, Ho Hos, and gummy worms.” And then she climbs into the backseat.

  Banks makes a face at me while he swigs a Ziff sports drink. Washing down the donut Sulli crammed in his mouth.

  Am I bitter?

  Something rises to the back of my throat.

  While I screw on the gas cap, Banks hands me another Ziff out of his bag. “Unless you want to spend another hundred miles with Sulli the Iceberg, you’re gonna want to go unfuck that.”

  “I’m already there.” I down a strong gulp of Ziff, heading to the window of the backseat. Every time Thatcher and Banks say unfuck, I picture a dick exiting a pussy.

  So that’s what I’m picturing.

  My dick. Exiting her pussy.

  I blink and blink to get that shit out of my head. Strolling up to the window, I rap my fist on the glass.

  Sulli rolls it down, and I rest my arm on the sill, eyeing the bag of snacks she just bought. All sweets. Her dietary habits lie solely at the top of the food pyramid. With her hand halfway in the gummy bag, she says, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I smile, trying to ease back in her good graces.

  She bites a gummy. “What do you want, Kits?”

  “Just to talk, say hey.”

  I can’t help but see a faint look of disappointment cross her face. Like I’m not giving her enough, but I can’t be…we can’t be…

  A breath catches in my lungs, and I exhale and nod to the gummy worm she’s eating. “What flavor is that?”

  “Cherry.”

  I picture her on a bed. For a split-second. I picture Sulli on a fucking bed. Legs spread. Her cherry—it’s just my brain. Means nothing.

  “Taste good?” I wonder.

  She shrugs. “The green ones are better.” She tears one with her teeth. Sulli is tender-hearted, but with a single, serrated slice, she will cut out anyone from her life that hurts her. She cut out her ex-boyfriend without second thought.

  She cut out Beckett, her best friend.

  But she hasn’t cut me yet.

  “Green ones taste like lime?” I wonder.

  “Yep.”

  I lean more into the window. Teasingly, I smile, “Where’s my gummy worm?”

  She rips off another piece with her teeth. “Between your legs.”

  Banks laughs hard, climbing in the driver’s seat.

  I shoot him a middle finger.

  Sulli twirls the gummy. “Only totally hot babes know what that worm tastes like.”

  “Where’s the lie?” I tease, then I slyly and quickly reach for the gummy worms through the window, stealing the bag.

  Sulli smiles, “Kits!” She tears the bag out of my grip. Gummy worms go flying, but I grab a few out of the air.

  “Thanks for these.” I slide into the passenger’s seat.

  “Asshole!” she shouts, kicking the back of my seat.

  I turn around, staring at her while I eat a green gummy worm. “Mmmhh.”

  She tries hard not to smile. “Fuck you.”

  I mime grabbing the fuck you out of the air and swallowing it.

  Her humor fades pretty fast. Too fast, and I watch as she concentrates on the scenery out the window over our interaction.

  Well, that lasted point-five seconds.

  Great.

  I face forward while Banks pulls out of the gas station. “I’ll drive next stop,” I tell him.

  He nods. “Who called earlier?”

  I lean back, more tensed.

  Being the boss, I don’t share everything with everyone in security. I could easily shut out Donnelly, Oscar, and Farrow (the Yale boys) and say, it’s nothing you should worry about. They’d understand. But the Moretti brothers are different. I’ve always confided in them.

  And I’ve known Banks since I was twenty.

  He was twenty-two, fresh out of the military, brand new to security, and I just clicked with Banks and Thatcher. At the time, not many guys were around our age on the team. We hung out off-duty. Relied on each other.

  Thatcher Moretti became my best friend. We were both eventually leads. Our problems were the same, and we understood each other. Banks…Banks was the friend who added needed levity to the shit that Thatcher and I faced.

  Most days would’ve been total hell without him.

  So I won’t lie
to Banks. We’re on the same side. Always.

  “Your dad called,” I tell him.

  Banks grips the steering wheel tighter with one hand.

  Sulli stiffens in the backseat.

  And just like that, I’ve siphoned off all the remnants of a good mood. I’m used to that. I pull switches often. One minute we’re all fun and games. The next, it’s serious.

  “Yeah?” Banks frowns. “He bail on you already?”

  “No. He’s just coming in a few days late.”

  Banks blinks hard a few times, gaze hot on the road. “Don’t set your hopes and dreams on that, Akara. All that man is good for is disappointment.” His eyes flit to me, softening.

  He’s worried for me, I realize. He’s worried his dad will be a no-show and fuck me over in the process.

  I’m worried for him.

  That his dad will show up and prove something worse to his son. Money drove him here. Not love for his family, his sons.

  Sulli scoots up between our seats. “Is your dad really that bad?” She drops a bag of powered donuts in the drink console for us.

  I open it.

  “Yeah.” Banks glances at her, then the road. “The last thing he ever said to me before he left was, You’re the dispensable one.” He shrugs like it’s nothing but I know it’s everything. “I’m the second-born twin. The dispensable one.” He grits down on his teeth. “He can go fuck himself.”

  7

  AKARA KITSUWON

  Sulli yawns into her bicep as she reverses out of the third campsite we’ve marked on the map. We called ahead to two, and they were full by the time we showed up. First come, first serve is not on our side tonight.

  “I fucking hate when you have to have reservations to campsites,” Sulli grumbles. “Camping is half-spontaneity, and there’s nothing wild and free about a fucking reservation.” She flips off the At Capacity sign on the bulletin board before peeling the Jeep away.

  “Jesus, Mary,” Banks startles awake with the sharp turn. He was lying down in the backseat, my baseball hat over his eyes, and he grabs hold of my headrest, pulling himself up. “What the fuck was that?”

  “Not Jesus or Mary,” I say with a smile.

  “Thank God.” He sits up more, rubbing his tired eyes. “I don’t expect to see them until I’m six-feet under.” He glances out the back windshield. Where our tires kick up dirt against the bulletin board. “Campsite all full again?”

  “Yep,” Sulli yawns.

  “Pull over,” I tell her from the passenger seat. “I’ll drive.”

  “You just drove, Kits. It’s my turn.” She readjusts her grip on the wheel. While Banks has been sleeping, we’ve talked…not a lot.

  It’s been just great.

  Really, really great.

  Outside of mentioning campsites, the last we spoke was through the McDonalds drive-thru, and I told her Oreo McFlurries tasted like concrete paste.

  She said nothing until she dropped the McFlurry on her lap. And then she muttered, “Cumbuckets,” and gave me a look, “Can concrete paste, do that?” Her whole lap was wet with ice cream. Teal running shorts drenched. I handed her a roll of paper towels and helped wipe up the stream of ice cream that trickled down her leg.

  She tensed.

  I pulled back a little bit, wadding up the paper towel.

  She used to always let me help her, but now—now it’s weird. Is it because she’s older? Because she’s dating—or she’s willing to date? I wish I knew. Things are stranger than I can even comprehend. Heat smothered me, and I just nodded to her.

  Sulli mumbled a thanks and scrubbed the rest of the ice cream off with harsher, frustrated force.

  “I can drive,” Banks offers.

  “No,” Sulli and I say in unison, but I add, “You’ve clocked in the most hours behind the wheel.”

  “I’m better at staying awake longer,” Banks reminds me.

  He’s not wrong. Sulli and I have chaotic sleep schedules. She rises at odd hours. We always nap a shit ton, but I’ve caught Banks popping Tylenol like they’re Skittles today. When I asked him about it, he said, “Just a headache. It’s nothing.”

  He needs rest too. Beyond being my friend, he’s one of my men. I’m not driving his health into the ground by leeching his sleep.

  “Sul, take the next exit,” I say, like an order.

  She switches lanes. “Do you see another campsite?”

  “I saw a sign for a motel.” And it might be the last one for a while. “We’re getting some sleep. All of us.”

  “And that’s an order,” Banks jokes light-heartedly.

  I smile, but my face slowly morphs in a grimace when we arrive at the motel in nowhere Wisconsin.

  “What a shithole,” Sulli mutters, parking beside a beat-up truck.

  The neon vacancy sign is half-busted. Only the V and C’s are glowing. The single-level motel looks grimy and rundown: paint chipped, overflowing trash bins, and a few broken windows on rooms 3 and 5. Safety hazards, definitely, but with me and Banks on her detail, she’ll be protected all ways around. No matter where we crash for the night.

  “As long as it has running water, should be fine with me,” Banks says as we all unmount from the Jeep.

  I pop the trunk. “You need some help raising your standards, Banks.”

  “At least my standards are higher than Donnelly’s.” He pulls his rucksack out of the back. “I wouldn’t have slept in the Lost & Found room.”

  “The what?” Sulli asks, slipping her Patagonia backpack on her shoulders. The one her dad gave her before we left the REI.

  “The Lost & Found room,” Banks says. “It used to be a guest bedroom in security’s Hell’s Kitchen apartment. Stunk like stale beer and piss.”

  I explain, “Bodyguards would crash there when they were in New York for the night.”

  Sulli looks surprised. “And Donnelly wanted to sleep there?”

  “I heard he was willing to,” Banks says. “I would’ve just crashed with my family before sleeping there.” He goes quiet, his gaze dropped.

  I understand the somber shift. So does Sulli.

  Donnelly doesn’t have a home to run to. Not like the Moretti brothers, who have an army of uncles in South Philly at their disposal. These days, I don’t have a home anymore either.

  It’s gone.

  It’s not gone, Nine.

  With my mom living back in New York, sometimes it feels that way. Shoving those thoughts aside, I grab my red duffel.

  Sulli fits on her Philly baseball cap, even in the dead night. “I know my sister couldn’t come because high school started back up, but you think I should’ve invited my cousins to Montana? Like Moffy or Jane or Luna?”

  I’m about to answer, but when I turn, I realize she’s asking Banks.

  My stomach sinks.

  He lifts a shoulder. “You want them here?”

  She stares off at the flickering vacancy sign. “The FanCon tour was one of the coolest adventures I’ve ever fucking had—when we were all together. But Beckett was there too and Charlie…” Her frown deepens. “I guess I just miss how close we all got. Anyway, if I asked them, I think they’d just say sorry, we can’t.”

  I chime in, “I doubt that, Sul.”

  Sulli rests her hands on her head. “You would say that, Kits, but nothing stays the same with friendships. Everyone is growing up and growing apart.” Her words sound pained. “No one has time to travel to Yellowstone to watch their cousin free-solo some cliffs.” Wind picks up the dirt on top of the graveled parking lot. “And I get it. I get that everyone has their own thing going on. Luna is taking more online college courses. Moffy has a fucking baby. And Jane is getting married. Married.” She laughs like it seems unreal. “To your brother.” She points at Banks. “And it feels like just yesterday we were all kids, piling into a canoe at the lake house. Trying not to tip it over.” Sulli exhales strongly, then stares at the ground, adjusting her backpack strap. “Maybe it’s good they’re not here. Flying higher fro
m the nest, right? I need to do this on my own—with you two, obviously.”

  Banks and I nod, trying more or less to be impartial. But with her cousins come their bodyguards. Omega. My men. Of course we’d like them here, but Sullivan is right.

  It’s better it’s just the three of us.

  I don’t need SFO to rib me about my relationship with Sulli right now. Not when it’s being electrocuted every ten minutes.

  “So what now?” Sulli asks me and Banks.

  Hey, she included me. Love those good signs.

  I pass them. “I’m going to check to see if they have a room available.” I walk backwards and say, “Grab what you need. Cover her ass, Banks.”

  “On it,” he says.

  As I walk away, I hear Sulli ask him, “Who’s going to be in charge of your ass tonight…?” Her voice tapers off as my shoes crunch gravel.

  I walk faster.

  And faster.

  Not wanting to hear Banks’ reply for some reason.

  I blink back invasive thoughts.

  Cherries.

  A bed.

  Her body.

  I blink.

  Sulli.

  Thighs spread.

  Virginity.

  I blink and blink. Gusts of wind whip my black hair.

  Sheets.

  Her long brunette hair.

  Greenest green eyes.

  Legs that never end.

  I blink.

  Her arched back.

  Shallow breath.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  My stomach tosses in guilt. I shouldn’t see her that way. Not even if she asked me to take her virginity. Not even if the world was burning down.

  She’s like my little sister. Ryke said it himself!

  He told me that. He has constantly said:

  “That’s your fucking sister, you know? Protect her.”

  “You’re a big brother to her.”

  “Thanks for being her big brother.”

  For years that’s what I heard from her dad.

  It’d be so screwed up if we did something…

  I run a hand through my hair, kick away those thoughts, and survey the area. For a random motel stop, a surprising number of cars are parked here.