“I’ll call,” I tell him.
Maximoff brings me into a hug. “I love you, Sul.”
I hug back. “I love you too, Mof.”
I hate how much this feels like a goodbye.
And the bachelorette party isn’t even over yet. By tomorrow, everyone will be on a flight home. Even my little sister will be gone.
When we push the door, I scan the poolroom. A normal Jacuzzi sits off to the far end where Winona, Vada, Kinney, and Audrey are having an intense discussion.
I eye them in confusion as I wander to the mud bath: an in-ground pit of gray mud as big as the Jacuzzi. Luna is already chin-deep while Jane keeps her arms clean and sips on a goblet of light-colored beer.
While Thatcher is at the brewery three-floors below us, he’s been sending up tasting-sizes of beer he thinks Jane would like.
It makes me wonder what Akara and Banks are up to at the bachelor party. If they’re getting super wasted now that they’re off-duty or if they’re just relaxing. I wish I could be a million places at once. With them and also right here. So I never miss a thing.
“What’s up with the girls?” I ask Luna and Jane as I shed my towel.
Jane peeks over her shoulder. “High school drama, I believe.”
“Glad to be rid of that,” Luna adds.
A familiar pang hits me again. Moments when I realize I didn’t have a normal teenage experience. No walking down high school hallways and trying to beat the bell in the morning. I chose a different path, and I have no regrets, but a part of me will always dislike missing out on something. An adventure untaken. But to succeed in swimming, homeschool was the better option for me. I couldn’t walk both roads.
I plop my feet into the mud.
Moffy sits on the ledge, his ankles submerged, but I lower onto the Jacuzzi seat inside the mud bath near Jane. Gray sludge rises up to my chest as I wiggle my way into the thick, warm goop. Mud cocoons around my body like a comforting hug. Almost like I’m being held together.
I breathe in strongly.
And I cringe at the rotten-egg sulfur scent. Fuck that stinks. Even the spa’s lavender candles and incense can’t drown out the stench.
“Okay, I’m gonna do it,” Luna suddenly declares, hoisting herself onto the ledge.
Jane perks up. “Right now?” She looks excited for Luna.
Moffy looks on edge. “You need help constructing the text?”
Am I the only one really fucking confused here? I look between the three of them. How out of the loop am I?
Luna wipes mud off her hands with a towel. “Uh-huh, I’m sure. I have a text ready with the pic.”
What picture?
As she grabs her phone, I ask, “What’s going on?”
Luna looks over at me. “You know my galaxy tattoo, the one I keep hiding from my dad?”
“Yeah,” I say, remembering Luna showing me the intricate thin-line tattoo that snakes up the side of her ass and down part of her leg. Right now, mud hides her inked skin.
“I can’t keep it a secret anymore,” Luna says. “Celebrity Crush posted something on their Twitter account about how I didn’t show my legs all summer, and I don’t want my dad to jump to conclusions like I’m…” She exhales sadly.
Jane tells me, “Like she’s hurting herself.”
I nod, more understanding. It sucks that the media is forcing her hand in this. But I think it’s good that Luna is coming clean, even if Uncle Lo is going to flip. Honestly, I’m impressed at how long Luna has been able to shelter a visible secret. It’s literally written on her body.
The cougar attack is written on mine, but it’s not something I want to keep quiet when I go home.
“So you’re telling your dad now?” I ask Luna.
“Yep.” She unlocks her phone screen. “I’m mostly just worried about the fallout with Donnelly. I don’t want him to get in trouble for a tattoo that I asked for.”
Moffy chimes in, “Donnelly said he was cool with you telling Dad.”
My jaw drops a fraction. “When?” How did I miss that too?
“Earlier this morning,” Luna explains, “I talked with Moffy, Farrow, and Donnelly about telling my dad today, while we’re all here. I think it’ll give my dad some time and space to process.”
Jane lifts her beer goblet. “Cheers to courage.”
I want to smile, but little ole me is sitting here with a huge ass secret. And it’d be nice to have advice from Moffy and Jane like Luna has been getting lately.
Luna taps her finger to the goblet in cheers, then taps her phone. “Sent.” She looks more nervous as reality sinks in. “I did the right thing? Dad had to know?”
Jane holds her gaze. “Better from you than from the media.”
Moffy nods. “It was time.”
I try to give Luna an encouraging smile. “You got this, Luna.”
Jane’s phone buzzes the same time as Luna’s. While Jane smiles at her screen, Luna is frowning at hers.
“Shit,” Luna curses. “He’s asking me who did it?”
“You should tell Dad the truth,” Moffy says.
Luna inhales, then types out a message. I scoot closer to Jane as I catch the bride-to-be swooning at her phone.
She smiles over at me, then flashes me her screen. “Thatcher’s mom stopped by to check on Lady Macbeth and the others. Thatcher texted me the pics she sent him.”
Her cats.
Thatcher messaged Jane a photo of their fur babies rolling on the carpet like cat burritos, and they’re making silly faces. I laugh. “Are they strung out on catnip?”
“On love, apparently,” Jane says, unable to stop smiling. “They adore Gloria. Thatcher said his mom grew up feeding strays and bringing them inside.”
Gloria. That’s also Banks’ mom. Obviously, but I find myself hanging onto Jane’s words for different reasons now. I want to know more about Banks and the woman who raised him.
Is she cool? Does he have a good relationship with her or is it more strained like the one with his dad? Things…I don’t exactly know that deeply, but I really, really fucking want to.
There is a path where I never do.
Where I never get closer to Banks, and that sits inside me like a ball of misery and desolation. Like some post-apocalyptic scenario that I didn’t choose.
I’d never choose that.
But I may.
I try not to wince even thinking it, and I concentrate on Jane.
She shows me another cat photo. “Ophelia is licking her lips after a tuna treat.”
Adorable, but my eyes immediately jump to the text message sitting above the photo.
I’m going to push inside your wet pussy, honey. – Thatcher
Suddenly it’s a million degrees and my eyes have popped out of my fucking head. Do I alert Jane and make the situation awkward? Or do I ignore the fact that I just read a dirty text from her future husband, one that is super direct and assertive?
“Uh…” I stammer.
Jane frowns, then follows my gaze. “Merde.” She’s beet-red and clicks out of the text thread.
Maybe I should go to college and take up Acting 101 to save other people from myself. “I didn’t see anything,” I lie.
She smiles, but her face is as red as mine. I mean, we’re all pretty open and talk about sex, but it’s not like I’ve ever heard Thatcher tell Jane that he wants to stick it in.
“That is a big fat lie, Sullivan Meadows,” Jane notes sweetly. “But I appreciate you lying on my behalf.”
“What’d you see?” Moffy asks me.
I look to Jane, wondering if she wants this unleashed.
“A sext,” Jane answers.
“You sext?” Luna smiles but glances nervously at her own phone. Waiting for her dad’s reply. Uncle Lo might just be drawing out his reaction to put his daughter on edge.
“Sometimes.” Jane studies the way Luna stares at her phone. “Did your dad respond?”
“Just now, he did. He said, we’ll talk more when y
ou’re home. Glad you’re okay, and remind me—what’s Akara’s number again? He’s going to call Akara.” Her head whips to Moffy. “This is bad, right? If he’s calling Akara, then he’s going to get Donnelly fired.”
“Kits won’t fire him,” I cut in. “He wouldn’t.”
Moffy nods. “And Farrow will vouch for Donnelly.”
“Plus,” Jane adds, “Uncle Loren already has Akara’s number. So he’s most likely trying to make you sweat it out.”
Luna’s shoulders loosen. Relaxing more, she dips back into the thick mud.
All this talk of Donnelly reminds me of something. “I heard that Donnelly hasn’t brought anyone back to his apartment in a while,” I tell my cousins. “No hookups or dates. Akara and Banks said it was strange for him.”
The air thickens more than the mud.
What the fuck? You’d think I dropped a heavy-duty explosive, when I thought I was just giving a tiny morsel of bodyguard gossip that I could share with family. No one says anything. Jane is looking to Moffy, who looks to Luna.
“What’s going on?”
Now Jane is looking to Luna.
Luna draws a muddy star on the stone ledge, but her amber eyes ping between all three of us before landing on me. “I wanted to tell you for a long time—I really did, but I couldn’t. The more people keep finding out, the harder it is to keep.”
My frown deepens, heart starting to race. “About what?” Drugs. I can’t help but jump to secret drug usage because of Beckett.
“A year ago,” Luna begins, letting her light-brown hair get matted with mud, “Donnelly and I hooked up—just oral. On me.”
My brain explodes. Holy fuck.
She continues fast, “If my dad ever finds out, it could be ten times worse than whatever his reaction is to Donnelly tattooing me, so I’ve been trying to keep this under wraps. Different people just keep finding out on accident, but I’ve hated that you don’t know.”
That actually makes me feel better. But when she lists out who knows—Jane, Maximoff, Thatcher, Farrow, Oscar, and Jack—my stomach somersaults knowing just how on the outs I’ve been. I guess Charlie and Beckett aren’t aware either, but I always thought Luna and I were closer after rooming together.
With how poorly I lie, maybe Luna felt like she couldn’t trust me. I guess I can’t fault that reasoning. I wouldn’t want to accidentally cause her or Donnelly pain if he were to get fired.
“You can’t tell anyone, please,” Luna pleads. “Not even Akara.” She barely pauses. “Donnelly is way older than me, so murder might actually be on my dad’s agenda if he finds out.”
Yeah, I can’t see that going well considering Uncle Lo was really hard on my parents for their age-gap when they were dating. But maybe time heals all, and he’s changed.
Luna has these soft, pleading doe eyes.
I want to do right by her. By my friends. To have good friends means that I need to be a good friend too.
Secret-keeping isn’t usually my strong suit, but I’m going to try to gain more experience on that front. “I won’t fucking tell, I promise.” I shift closer to Luna in the mud. Like moving in liquid cement, it takes effort, but I slip between Luna and Jane, and Luna and I curl pinkies in a bigger promise.
My mind is gathering more logic. So if Donnelly and Luna hooked up once, and Donnelly is strangely not seeing anyone, does that mean…
Oh.
Fuck.
Luna and Donnelly.
They’re…dating?
Moffy already looks concerned. Big brother mode is on.
I come out and ask Luna, “Are you and Donnelly in a secret relationship or something?”
Jane rests her chin on her fist. “Exactly what I was going to ask.” So Jane and Moffy have no clue about this. They only knew about the hookup from a year ago, and with that info, plus the rumor I just told them, they theorized a secret relationship like me.
Luna shakes her head profusely. “Nonono.”
“We’d understand if you are, and you can trust us,” Jane says, setting down her phone and goblet on the ledge. “We’ve all been there. Except Sulli, of course.”
Fuck my life.
I have been there. I am currently right fucking there. Although we haven’t exactly settled on labels. Probably because I haven’t been able to choose who’ll go from short-term dating to long-term boyfriend. Not to mention, they might just choose each other in the end.
I pick up a handful of mud. Avoiding direct eye contact with everyone. Thankfully they’re all so focused on Luna, they don’t notice my bad acting.
“There’s no secret relationship happening,” Luna tells us. Her gaze stays on her older brother for a longer beat. “I’ve been honest with you. I wouldn’t lie when I told you it was a one-time thing.”
I’m the real liar.
The bad liar.
Right here.
Me.
The wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“I believe you, Luna,” Moffy says strongly. “It’s just a weird coincidence, and those happen all the damn time, trust me. I’ve been through misunderstandings and doubts.”
The HaleCocest rumor. I cringe remembering how the media thought Moffy and Jane were hooking up. So fucking gross. It was even worse when some of our family didn’t know what was real either. A lot of security facts were stacked against Moffy.
Luna eases, then frowns, thinking harder. “Donnelly and I don’t really talk much outside of group events and some of the tattooing sessions we’ve had. I don’t know anything about his dating life.” Her frown deepens. “I’m just as confused as all of you.”
I say unhelpfully, “Maybe he got an STD and he’s waiting for things to fucking clear up.”
Jane’s eyes go wide. “Is that what Akara said?”
“What? No!” Oh fuck, I am so bad at this. I don’t want to start a rumor about someone having an STD. “It was just a guess. A bad guess. Wipe it away from your memories.”
“It’s gone,” Jane says with a breezy flick of her hand.
Luna’s lips have downturned. “You really think no one would sleep with him if he had an STD?”
“Luna,” Jane says. “The memory is wiped.”
“Oh right.” Luna scoops up handfuls of mud and plops them on her head. “Memory erased.” She looks like Carrie from the movie, only instead of blood, she’s drenched in mud.
“Bachelorette game time,” Moffy decrees.
Fuck yes! Time to win. I pick myself out of the hot mud bath. Sitting on the ledge, ready for total domination.
Jane cups her beer goblet again. “Wait, while we’re on the topic of bodyguard relationships, have you given any more thought to Banks?” She’s volleying the conversation back to me.
“Banks?” Luna frowns.
“He likes Sulli,” Jane says.
Luna draws a newly wet mud mustache on her face over her dried mud mask. “I thought Akara likes Sulli.”
The wind shifts in my sails like I’m being spun sideways. Am I still breathing?
“Akara said he just sees her as a friend,” Jane notes.
“Huh,” Luna tilts her head. “But Banks likes her?’
“Oui.”
This can’t be happening.
If I utter a single word, I’ll be caught in my lie. My lips have cemented together, and I try to be all cool. All casual. I remember how easy it was for Akara to skate through his lie like it was nothing, and hurt blossoms in my chest.
It shouldn’t be easy to lie about this. To lie about them.
Because I lo…I care about them both. Fucking immensely.
Luckily Moffy pries the conversation off Banks and Akara and refocuses it onto the bride-to-be. Moffy doesn’t know it, but he’s definitely helping me be better at secret-keeping. Thank God for the man of honor.
40
BANKS MORETTI
As the best man, it’s my job to make sure my brother is having a good time at his own bachelor party. But Thatcher Alessio Moretti is making that tas
k harder than I thought he would. I’d have better luck flying my ass to the moon.
He hasn’t touched his beer and we’re at a fuckin’ brewery.
At least he keeps sending ice-cold lagers to his fiancée.
“Thatcher,” I lean into his ear, clamping a hand on his strict shoulder. “You can drink more than the baby sips you’ve been taking. We’ve got temps and SFE here.” I hate to give that much credit to Epsilon, but if it’ll ease my brother’s stress then I’ll be spitting those words all day.
Montana Moose Foot Brewery is on the ground floor of this enormous lodge. Complete with barrel-drum tabletops, leather barstools, and mounted bison heads. Bougie, but also something my brother and I would’ve walked into if we had the cash and the people didn’t side-eye us to hell.
I’d love to give myself kudos for the venue, but Jane and Thatcher basically chose it themselves with an assist from Maximoff.
We bought out the brewery for a “private party” for the whole day, and right now, various cliques pack the bar area, leather sofas, and tabletops. From my cousins at the bar—Morettis, Piscitellis, and Ramellas—to the Cobalt brothers at an entire sofa section, and to Omega at the high-top tables.
It’s like high school all over again.
My brother and I currently occupy a tabletop dead-center of the brewery. Right now, it’s the worst damn place for Thatcher to be. He has a perfect view of all the guests, which is causing him to act more like a bodyguard than a man about to be married.
Thatcher stares at the beer, a dark porter on draft, that I shove at his chest. “Her teenage brothers are here, Banks. If anything happens to them—”
“It won’t,” I cut him off.
His eyes peel to the sofa area. Eliot and Tom Cobalt are in some deep whisper-conversation. Nothing good is going to come from that, but I’m not advertising my pessimistic thoughts right now. I’m a fucking rainbow of joy for my brother today. He deserves the hype man, not a Debbie Downer.
But Christ, it’s hard when I’m playing babysitter to Cobalt brothers and I’m a goalie playing defense as I try to keep Tony Ramella from approaching my brother. Lord knows Tony will throw out some dumb comment that’ll tank my brother’s mood.
Wild Like Us Page 32