“Awesome job,” I say with a hug and tap of the helmet. “You did great out there.”
“Except I screwed that turn.”
“You’ll get it next time,” Willow encourages with a loving smile.
And then our kid grips the helmet with two gloved hands. Taking it off and shaking out a loose sandy-brown braid.
Our daughter smiles a gap-toothed smile like she won the race, even when she lost. “I did better than last year, faster start out the gate.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Willow says, passing her a water bottle.
“Thanks, Mom.” She takes a swig. “So I can go to Arcadia Galactica tomorrow, right?”
I lift my brows. “You’re still grounded, Vada.”
“Aw, come on.” Her voice is light, knowing she shouldn’t get a reprieve for biking after dark. A rule she constantly breaks. We still live in the city, in the same Philly loft.
Vada is brave like her mom. And she’s also nonconfrontational, in a way like me. I rest easy knowing she walks away from fights.
“Next week,” Willow reminds her, “you can always go then, unless you get grounded aga—”
“I won’t,” she says quickly, walking her bike back to the tent with us. “I’m having Pac-Man withdrawals like so bad.” Her aquamarine eyes flit to me. “Literally, Dad.”
I hate that game. She knows I hate that game, and honestly, I can’t believe my kid loves playing for hours upon hours. Vada pulverized Willow’s high score when she was four, and not because her mom is bad. Willow is fucking good at that one.
While we keep walking, Vada talks and smiles over the pics that her mom captured.
They both laugh.
And my chest rises in a light breath. In happiness.
Vada Lauren Abbey was born from love, and we named her Vada after the character in the movie My Girl. Lauren after the guy who changed our lives.
As soon as we enter the tent, Vada is rushed by family, by her cousins, three of which are girls around her age—and also her best friends. They pour ice water over her head. Laughing. Congratulating.
I extend my arm back around Willow, sharing a gentle smile with my wife. Summers are my favorite part of the year, always full of family.
And with this family, these people who protect and love without question, sixth place can feel like first.
Video Game Reviews
Present Day
Sorin-X 5
Overview: 9.5 IGN.com, 5/5 Trusted Reviews, 94% Metacritic
Developer: Abbey Game Studios
Publisher: Cobalt Electronics
Creator: Garrison Abbey
Director: Garrison Abbey
Designer: Garrison Abbey
Programmer: Garrison Abbey
Writer(s): Garrison Abbey, Jasmine Lang
Artist(s): Belinda Howell, Jackson Howell
Composer: Anya Rhodes
Series: Sorin-X
SALES: Sorin-X 5 sold 1.6 million copies within 24-hours of release and sold through its 15 million first-run shipment order to retailers.
AWARDS: Sorin-X 5 received high critical praise and gaming awards from publications, including awards from GamesHighlight and Game eVolution. It also won the Game of the Year for innovative gameplay and story, and the Sorin-X series continues to dominate the gaming landscape. Working under a small team with an emphasis on originality and character-connection, the creator has been lauded since the first iteration of the game fourteen years ago. Garrison Abbey is considered one of the greatest video game creators in modern history.
Thank you!
Thank you so much for reading Wherever You Are! We hope you enjoyed the conclusion to Garrison & Willow’s romance.
Continue flipping for a bonus chapter with grown-up Maximoff Hale, now twenty-two, talking to his Uncle Garrison about Vada, bodyguards, and more!
If you’re still craving to stick inside this universe with the Hales, Meadows, Cobalts, and Abbeys — you can rewind time and find out how the Calloway sisters became famous in the Addicted series. It’s complete and ready to binge-read!
Start with Addicted to You (Lily & Lo’s story): Two addicts (a female sex addict & an alcoholic) pretend to be in a relationship to hide their addictions from their families.
Turn the page for a bonus scene in twenty-two-year-old Maximoff Hale’s POV!
THE ABBEY LOFT
2 Weeks Before Damaged Like Us
MAXIMOFF HALE
Age 22
I RIDE UP a graffiti-painted elevator inside an industrial factory, which was converted into premium lofts.
And my uncle’s loft is here.
He’s one of the few people in our family that lives outside of a gated neighborhood. His level of fame hasn’t amassed like my parents, but I still see Garrison Abbey pop up on a magazine or two. His name isn’t immediately recognizable to the average person.
So chances are, you don’t know about him. Not unless you’ve dug into our Instagram photos and clicked on the tags.
His wife is my dad’s sister, but in all honesty, our family history is so complicated that it fills multiple paragraphs on Wikipedia.
The elevator slows to a stop at the fifteenth floor. I left Declan in the lobby level. My bodyguard isn’t my bodyguard for long, and that’s a weird thing for me.
Losing him.
Only two more weeks and someone else will be a huge part of my life.
But I’m trying not to worry about that.
I have other things to do.
Elevator doors slide open to reveal a distressed metal door. I use my keys and unlock, stepping inside—
“Watch the bike!” Garrison shouts at me from across the loft.
Sure enough, I almost trip over a bright orange dirt bike. My knee ends up knocking over the helmet that’d been hanging on the handlebar. I bend down and pick it up. Carefully hooking it back.
“Sorry about that,” my uncle tells me. He’s standing at the kitchen island with a screwdriver and a laptop, the entire casing open. “I’m doing this thing where I’ve stopped picking up Vada’s crap.”
I smile and squeeze past his bike by the door. His thirteen-year-old daughter is best friends with my little sister Kinney. “How’s that working out for you?” I ask.
“Her shit is now everywhere.” He grabs a pair of plyers and removes a chip from the computer. “So…not well.”
His brown hair is buzzed, and wayfarer sunglasses are hooked on the crew-neck of his black shirt. At thirty-nine, he’s the youngest of my uncles, and I have memories of him living with my parents when I was just a little kid.
Good memories.
We’d wake up early and I’d watch him play Mortal Kombat on Sega Genesis.
Add in the fact that his job is literally creating and developing video games, and he’s probably the coolest person in my family.
Right behind my mom and dad.
I near the kitchen island. His artsy loft has huge windows that landscape a wall, and the entire floorplan is open. The bookshelves are my favorite part of Uncle Garrison and Aunt Willow’s loft. Each one is filled to the brim with comics and old retro video games, preserved behind glass doors.
“Hand me that flathead,” Garrison tells me.
As I reach the island, I find the green flathead screwdriver among his tools.
He takes it from my hand with a thanks. “So I looked at your proposal for the updated security hardware,” he tells me, still focusing on the computer.
Yesterday, I sent him an email about my plan for a Christmas gift to everyone. Hopefully something that can be completed by this year.
I want to update security on all our tech.
Phones. Computers. The whole works. I haven’t always felt safe texting people, and I know I’m not the only one. And I want that safety for my family, for my cousins and siblings. Our tech hasn’t been updated in a few years.
And now that Jane and I moved into the city, I know she’d like to sext her Asshole With Benefits without fear of b
eing hacked or leaked.
Garrison has an extensive background in coding, and so he usually runs point with our tech team.
My proposal was pretty simple, but the timeline may be too short. “I can still tweak some things if it’s asking for too much by Christmas,” I tell him.
“No, you’re good,” Garrison replies casually. “I can have it rolled out by then.” Before I can thank him, he nods his chin to a box on the kitchen table. “Got that yesterday if you want to take some.”
I already know what’s in it before I even cross the room. A couple years ago, Garrison was photographed at one of Vada’s races. He was biting the end of his sunglasses and cheering.
The headline: Sexy Dad Cheers on Dirt Biking Daughter. It went viral and ever since, he’s been sent free sunglasses from a ton of companies. All hoping he’ll wear them in public.
My assumptions are confirmed after I flip open the flaps to the box. Three rows of designer sunglasses stare back at me.
I take out a pair of bronze aviators. “How’s the new game coming?” I ask him.
Garrison glances at me with cinched brows. “That’s seriously what you want to talk about, Moffy?” He screws the backing onto the laptop.
“Let me guess.” I lean my ass against the edge of the kitchen table. It’s gray marble shaped in an octagon. “My dad said I was freaking out.”
I’m calm.
But I’ve been thinking. A lot. Drifting off, wondering and contemplating this colossal change in my life. I feel in flux.
Like my head isn’t on my body, and I’m wondering if this new bodyguard will make me feel like I’m spinning out of control at a million miles an hour in an unnamed galaxy.
Or whether he’ll just be like Declan.
A silent companion that I forget is even there.
And then I think.
I think that sometimes I’m not even sure I know what I want. And that terrifies me too.
“Your dad said,” Garrison starts. “And I quote, ‘Maximoff is acting like someone stole his childhood Batmobile bed.’”
I laugh.
It was a fucking awesome bed. But if my dad were here, I would have to respectfully disagree with him. I’m not acting like a petulant child. I just want details about the new bodyguard.
That’s it.
“He would say that,” I reply and slide the sunglasses over my eyes. The room bathes in a warm orange hue. “But I’m surprised he didn’t convulse when he uttered the word Batmobile.”
“He did admit to puking in his mouth,” Garrison says.
My eyes flit to the tattoo on Garrison’s neck. It’s of the Bat-Signal—something that I’ve been thinking about inking on me but I know better.
I ask, “You still thinking about getting it covered?”
Garrison looks up from his laptop, trying to figure out what I mean.
I tap my neck where his tattoo is and say, “The battoo.” That’s what my mom calls it.
“50/50,” he tells me. “On one hand, it reminds me that I can be a real shithead—which is a good thing sometimes. On the other, it reminds me that I’m a shithead.” Garrison shrugs. “Life lesson, Mof, don’t get revenge ink.”
He’s not really into Batman that much. Aunt Willow is the comic book reader in the Abbey family, but she doesn’t even read DC comics.
Garrison’s tattoo stemmed from a bad night fueled by anger. A few years ago, he started smoking again—he’d quit years back—and my dad was all over him about it.
I think my dad sent Garrison a picture of a burnt, charred lung almost every day. The way Garrison tells the story is that the photos were a joke at first, but when my dad didn’t let up, something snapped and it just got to Garrison. So he went out to the tattoo parlor, and in retaliation, he inked something he knew would piss off my dad.
The next day, he regretted it and stopped smoking.
“Upside,” I tell him. “My dad is still alive, so maybe there’s a chance I could get a Batman tattoo and he’d survive.”
Garrison looks at me like I’m insane. “I’m not his kid,” he reminds me. “And your dad doesn’t just hate DC tattoos. He hates all tattoos. He’s a petty asshole.” Garrison smiles. “But we love him.”
We do.
I return the aviators to the box and pick up a pair of white wayfarers. “So do you know anything about my new bodyguard?” I ask him, slipping the sunglasses on. “No one will tell me anything about him…or her.” I realize I don’t even know that simple detail. Jesus.
“Probably because the transfer isn’t set yet,” Garrison says. “There’s still a couple weeks.” He types on the laptop keyboard and then glances at the clock.
“I can go—”
“No don’t,” Garrison says quickly. “Willow and Vada won’t be home for another hour. I’m supposed to be cooking dinner, but I’m thinking about just ordering pizza.” He types on the keys again. “And you’re one of the few people I like.”
He’s selective about who he hangs with. Kind of like my dad.
They have a lot in common.
“Vada’s at her eighth grade orientation, right?” I ask him and near the island again and slide on a barstool. My little sister has orientation today, too, and Kinney texted me her schedule and asked if I’ve had the teachers. When I told her Mrs. Korrie is tough, she replied with coffin emojis.
Garrison cringes at the word eighth grade. “You know when she was born, I almost thought she’d stay little forever.” He stares off and shakes his head. “She’s thirteen. Fuck.” He rubs his eye and then nods to me. “I’d like to just freeze time so she doesn’t go to high school.” His eyes meet mine, and I remember being a little kid and seeing this sadness in those eyes.
A sadness that I couldn’t quite understand back then, but I felt it pour over me like a cold bath that steals your breath.
He seemed lost, but God, I loved him. I loved every second that he spent with me, and I thought he was one of the coolest people in every single universe. Like an older brother I didn’t have.
And I didn’t need him to smile at me. I just liked that he wanted me around him, and later, I found out that he just liked that I was dying to be near him.
Right now, staring in his eyes, I don’t see that sadness from years past. But I see him recalling some part of it, and he tells me, “I know you didn’t have a bad time in high school, but it was shit for me. Worse for your aunt. Teenagers generally suck.”
I slip off the wayfarers. “She has the girl squad.”
Garrison rolls his eyes at the mention of them. “Yeah, love the girl squad, except for the fact that they’re acting like this year is their last year together on planet Earth.” Since Winona and Vada are in a grade higher, they’ll be going to high school before Kinney and Audrey. It’s a big deal for the four of them.
I’ve witnessed a lot of group hugs and death emojis. My sister is usually the one delivering the latter.
My phone buzzes.
Janie. Texting me back. I asked her to grill her brothers and parents for information. See if they know anything about my new bodyguard.
Sorry, old chap. They’re all too tight-lipped. Or they don’t know anything. – Jane
I reply: its hard too believe your dad doesn’t know anything
My grammar is all fucked up, but I don’t really care. I just send.
True. But then he’s been sworn to secrecy. – Jane
I glance up at Garrison. His fingers fly over the keyboard and it makes noises. “You really don’t know who my new bodyguard is?”
He doesn’t look up.
“If you think I’m covering for someone, I’m not,” he replies. “I’d snitch on Connor and Ryke in a heartbeat.”
“My dad?” I ask.
He wavers for a second, and then his eyes meet mine. “To you, maybe.”
It’s not a yes or no.
But I’m certain that I’ll still leave here knowing nothing.
Two more weeks without details.
&n
bsp; Christ.
Ready to see how this story continues? You can find out how Maximoff Hale’s bodyguard comes into his life. Oh…and this maverick, know-it-all bodyguard just so happens to be Maximoff’s childhood crush! Read their epic love story in Damaged Like Us.
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DAMAGED LIKE US
Don’t date your bodyguard.
It was the one rule he had to break.
M/M Romance
Also by Krista & Becca
ADDICTED SERIES
Addicted to You
Ricochet
Addicted for Now
Thrive
Addicted After All
The Addicted Series Box Set
BAD REPUTATION DUET
Whatever It Takes
Wherever You Are
CALLOWAY SISTERS SERIES
Kiss the Sky
Hothouse Flower
Fuel the Fire
Long Way Down
Some Kind of Perfect
LIKE US SERIES
Damaged Like Us
Lovers Like Us
Alphas Like Us
Tangled Like Us
Sinful Like Us
Headstrong Like Us
Charming Like Us
Wild Like Us
Wherever You Are (Bad Reputation Duet Book 2) Page 35