Fearless Like Us

by Krista Ritchie

  Winona always looks fucking cool, but ever since Yellowstone, I’ve been feeling more and more like her older sister. Like I should’ve always felt.

  I am six years fucking older. The fear in her eyes when she heard I could’ve died out west has stayed with me. Maybe it’s stayed with her too. I’ve never been the reckless one, but I’m ripping through caution tape, even when it comes to love. Dating Will Rochester was safe.

  Dating a bodyguard is a danger zone.

  Dating two bodyguards is lethal.

  “Hey, squirt,” I try to smile, but Nona’s confusion and hurt nearly chokes the whole kitchen.

  “Does everyone know but me?” she frowns. “Sulli?”

  “Can we talk outside?”

  “Yeah, now.”

  As soon as I leave Banks and Akara’s side, I tell them, “Don’t leave without saying goodbye. Please. Just wait for me. I’ll be a sec.” I realize I’m leaving them alone in the pits of fucking hell with my dad—what I didn’t want to do—but my mom is here.

  She double thumbs-ups me. Ready to reel in Dad from potentially reenacting what happened at the quarry.

  Okay.

  Alright.

  I can go talk with Winona. So I leave, and as soon as I reach my sister, she grabs my hand and a couple headlamps. We race outside in the cold, moonlit dark together.

  I fit my headlamp on.

  She switches hers, and strobes of light give us greater clarity of our surroundings: the treehouse, the glass-walled gym, the woods that travel deep into our parents’ property. And greater clarity of each other. Her uncertain eyes that I hope to clear.

  Winona catches the rope to an old tire swing that our dad constructed at the crest of the woods. We both fit our legs through the hole of the tire.

  Sitting across from my sister, she asks, “How? When? Where?”

  “It happened in Montana.” I explain what I’ve already rehashed to my cousins, and it should be easier the umpteenth time around—but I’m still holding my breath all the fucking way through.

  Our feet brush the earth beneath us, and we rotate the tire in a circle, twisting the rope above us while we talk. “You fell in love with both of them?” Nona tries to process. “I…how?”

  “How?”

  She nudges my foot with hers. “Sulli, I…I can’t even unguard my heart for one dude. I say one personal thing to the wrong asshole and next thing I know, he can post everything I spilled in confidence. Not to mention, sex. Like, do I really want a guy to blab to his friends whether or not I shave my labia, and then, that’ll end up on the internet.”

  I think about The Royal Leaks, and her fears aren’t so fucking unfounded. Privacy is something Winona and I value, something our parents safeguarded growing up, and we weren’t taught to brace the full impact of the world as much as the Hales and Cobalts.

  In some ways, our parents gave us a real gift, a semblance of normality, and in others, we know what it’s like to have some privacy, so it’s more terrifying to lose it.

  “I trust them,” I tell Nona. “You’ll find someone you trust too; I know it, squirt.”

  Our breath smokes the air in our silence.

  We spin slowly, our feet still grounding us. Winona asks, “How do you know one isn’t lust and the other is love?”

  How do I describe a fucking feeling? I dip my head, the headlight illuminating my boots. Before I can form the words, Winona says, “I know you love Akara. You two were always so playful together like Mom and Dad. He’d be an idiot not to love you.”

  He does love me.

  But I follow where she’s going. “So you think Banks is the lust?” It hurts even thinking. I grip harder onto the rough rope.

  She adjusts her hands on the rope too. “How do you know it’s not just a physical connection?”

  The words tumble out of me. “Because when I picture losing Banks, I feel like I’m suffocating, Nona. I love him, and I need him as much as I’ve ever fucking needed Kits.”

  Banks reached a part of me that was dying to be held, and I know Winona thinks it’s a sexual part—but it’s not.

  He uplifts my womanhood, my independence, my strength, my soul, and Akara uplifts my drive, my playfulness, my fervor, my spirit.

  I love them both for different reasons because they’re different beautiful people, but I need and love them all the fucking same.

  My spirit and my soul.

  Her face downturns. “Does this mean you like Akara less than you did—”

  “No,” I say strongly.

  “But you’re sharing him with someone else. How can you love two guys totally, completely, the same way?”

  I shake my head, the light going left and right over her delicate features. “Nothing is cut in half, Nona. The love I have for them isn’t split apart and shared. They both have all of me, and I have all of them.” My eyes burn, hoping she understands, please. “We’d feel less if we went from three to two. We all have more together. So we’re staying fucking together.” With another breath, I tell her, “They want to be in a poly relationship over a monogamous one, like I do. They have a friendship that extends far fucking beyond me.”

  Winona lifts up her feet. I’m the only one keeping us grounded.

  “Say something, Nona,” I breathe.

  Her lip lifts. “I’m trying to get it. I’m going to get it a lot better than some people, and you need more allies. You’re my sister; I’ll always have your back in our wolf pack.” She leans forward to press our foreheads together. “What you’re doing is ballsy AF, and if anyone messes with you, they have to go through me.”

  “Hey, I’m the big sister. That’s my line.”

  She smiles. “I love you a waffle-lot, Sulli-Bear.”

  “I love you a waffle-lot more, Nona-Frog.”

  And with the biggest breath all night, I lift up my legs. We start to spin wildly as the rope untwists, the light of our headlamps whipping in circles as our bodies rotate and rotate and rotate.

  Winona smiles. We laugh, and she says, “You have a heart-on for them.”

  “An affection-erection,” I grin.

  We lean back and howl up at the moon, and I should know not to delight in moments this too-good-to-be-true. Because all of a sudden, we hear the crunch of leaves.

  Our feet drop, stabilizing us.

  We go quiet.

  My pulse thumps, and I consider calling out for Akara and Banks. It could just be an animal. Definitely not a cougar. A bobcat is more likely.

  I strain my ears and hear…snickering. Human snickering.

  Winona looks enraged. “Those douchebros.” She springs from the tire swing and chases after figures in the dark.

  “NONA!” I yell, jumping off the tire. Hot on her trail.

  I’m older.

  Faster.

  And what I’ve learned in point-two seconds is that I’m still not as rash and heedless as my little sister, who’d chase after creepy fucking laughter in the woods.

  “Nona, stop!”

  “They’re the neighborhood douchebros, Sulli!” Twigs catch our hair as we run deeper and deeper. “They live two streets over, and they’ve been tormenting my babes at school! COME OUT, YOU COWARDS!”

  “Nona! Fuck.” We roll to a sudden stop as our headlamps illuminate three teenagers. They wear navy-blue Dalton swim team sweatshirts, and it fucking sucks to know there are assholes on Dalton Academy’s swim team. What Moffy must’ve gone through, since I bailed on the normal high school experience.

  They grin.

  From behind my sister, I wrap my arms around Nona, keeping her from lunging at them. “Let’s go, Nona.”

  “Yeah, go, Nona.” The tallest mimics me in a high-pitched voice.

  “Fuck you,” I spit out.

  “Look, she’s bleeding out of her cooch.” They cackle loudly, and I glance down, the blood visible from the front now.

  Fucking awesome.

  “Grow up,” Winona growls. “Some women have menstrual cycles. We bleed. W
hat do you do? Jack off and cry over a paper cut?”

  The tall one snorts. “That’s all you’ve got, Winona?”

  I cut in, “You can’t be here. This is private fucking property—”

  “What are you gonna do about it?” They all laugh. “Punch us? You wanna hit me, Winona? Come on, right here.” He taps his face aggressively.

  Nona seethes, her hands clenched in fists.

  I tear her backwards.

  Her voice rises. “You’re so lucky my sister is here and has more sense than me.”

  “No, you’re lucky, bitch.”

  The threat in his voice sends a chill down my spine.

  Winona loses her bravado, a sickening look on her face. One that I feel, and no way am I ever letting teenagers assault my sister.

  “Don’t fuck with my sister,” I growl, “and don’t think about putting a hand on her or any of her friends.”

  They laugh, and the tall one says, “You think you can hurt us?”

  I want to say, yes. I can take on three fucking teenagers. I’m that strong, but they won’t take me seriously like they would Moffy.

  “I have a button on my headlamp. One push and our bodyguards are called. Two pushes and the fucking cops come. I’ve already pushed it once.”

  “You’re lying.”

  They can’t see my shitty poker face in the moonlight. “I’m glad you think so. Your fucking confidence is a win for me. My bodyguards will be here in five seconds. They have our location.”

  The three douchebros swap a wary look. “Fine,” the tall one says. “You really are lucky this time, Nona.” They start into a jog and then sprint away. Disappearing through the woods, and I tug Winona in the direction of our parents’ house.

  She’s stupefied, slow to follow until I pull harder. And then we’re running again.

  When we break into the grassy yard, we hurry towards the house. “You have to tell Mom and Dad.”

  “They’ve never been that sick, Sulli.”

  “Have they ever crept in our backyard before?” I glance backwards, glad they didn’t try to follow us. Winona goes to school with them, so their names will be easy to hand to security.

  “This is the first time that I know of, I swear.”

  My heart is still beating out of my chest. “Do you think they overheard us on the tire swing?” We were discussing my relationship with two bodyguards.

  Winona looks distraught. “I don’t know…Sulli, I’m so fucking sorry. If they heard anything, it’s all my fault—”

  “No, you didn’t know they were there.”

  She rips off her headlamp, upset. We both always spend a lot of our energy ensuring we don’t leak each other’s private lives to the public. That starts with not blabbing to enemies, especially shitheads down the street.

  We near the cottage.

  I left my boyfriends alone with my parents. The sudden thought practically catapults me back through the door.

  21

  AKARA KITSUWON

  Banks isn’t wrong. I have more in common with Ryke Meadows. But not just because we both had money in our pockets from birth.

  Ryke fell in love with the “off-limits” girl. A girl who was too young when he first met her. A girl who became his friend. A girl he chased to the ends of the earth. To protect her. Because he loved her. Because even if he never held the title or career, he was her bodyguard.

  So while Sulli is outside with her sister, Banks and I face our girlfriend’s parents with unspoken truths stretched taut in the kitchen.

  “We can all sit down. Talk a wee little bit?” Daisy suggests with a playful smile, but her Golden Retriever partially distracts her as Goldilocks paws at the backdoor. “Goldi, you were just outside.” She kneels beside the young dog, scratching behind her ears.

  None of us make a move to sit.

  Kitchen stools, the counter, and discomfort separate us from Ryke. His glare mostly stays on Banks, and my muscles constrict the longer he avoids me.

  I’m right here.

  My chest tightens. “Why can’t you even look at me?” I ask him.

  His nose flares, and as expected, his narrowed eyes never graze me. He mumbles something hot.

  “What was that?”

  He looks up, hurt in his eyes. “I’m fucking disappointed in you.”

  It stings, and I shift my weight. “You should understand,” I say heatedly, “better than anyone how this could happen.”

  He glances back at the door where Goldi whimpers, then to me, he says, “You’ll be twenty-eight in December…I was three years younger than you when I sat down with Daisy’s father and he interrogated me. And I never thought I’d be on the other side, but here I fucking am.”

  “You can interrogate me,” I urge. “Ask me what needs to be asked.” My chest rises and falls heavily. Come on, Ryke.

  “I can’t…” Ryke’s eyes redden and he looks away. “I’ve already put you through too fucking much, Akara.” He’s referring to the shouting match at the quarry.

  “You think what you’re doing to me now is any better?” I slip my phone in my back pocket, my whole attention on him. “I want to make things right for Sulli. She loves you, and…you know, I have no family in Philly. I only have the family I’ve made. My men and Sulli and your family have all been my family, and I’m sorry if you thought I’d never cross a line, if you thought I wouldn’t—but I did.”

  Ryke scratches the back of his neck. “Look, I’m fucking abrasive, and I’m not sure how to say things that won’t hurt you.”

  I put a hand to my chest. “I don’t care if you curse me left and right. I don’t care if this ends up worse than it started because at least I know I did something to make it better.” Solutions.

  I’m hanging onto this one.

  I know what it’s like to try to brush rifts and awkward situations under the rug. I did that when Sulli made her confession in the funhouse.

  All it did was postpone the inevitable. Me. Waking the fuck up.

  Ryke nods, and Daisy smiles over at him. He finds something inside himself to hold my gaze. “You’ve been around the fucking world with my family.”

  “Yeah.” Around the world. I’ve touched almost every continent. I’ve been to Thailand several times with the Meadows, only one time with my mom, and I never had the chance to go with my dad.

  I regret that the most.

  He never asked. Never booked a trip.

  Never really wanted to go. All his family was in New York.

  It’s okay, Nine.

  Is it?

  Ryke drops his hand from his neck. “I still see you like a son, Akara, and I did consider you a brother to my daughter.”

  Did.

  Past tense.

  He continues, “I know you’ve been Sulli’s companion, her best friend, when she needed one.” He pauses, struggling with speaking this deep for this long out loud. “Just like my father-in-law never expected I’d fall in love with his daughter, I did, and you’re right, I do understand how this could fucking happen between you two. It just does. It just did.”

  I inhale, feeling understood for a brief second. “Then why the disappointment?”

  “You’re a trained bodyguard. Besides the fucking fact that she pays you for those services—”

  “She doesn’t pay me,” I cut in. “Not anymore.”

  His hardened face seems to soften. He soaks this in. What I’m doing to make this right for me, for her, for everyone.

  He nods, but some raging thought causes Ryke to shake his head, his face contorting. “You have to know what you and him are about to put Sulli up against. It’s your job to know.”

  The media circus.

  The headlines.

  The loss of privacy.

  “Of course we know,” I say strongly.

  His scowl darkens. “And you don’t fucking care?”

  “I love Sulli—”

  “If you loved her at all, you wouldn’t do this to her.”

  His words
ring in the pit of my ears.

  “Ryke.” Daisy stands. “Sulli loves them, and you’re telling them to give up.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” He exhales a ragged breath. “Two bodyguards dating a Meadows girl…there’s never been a more salacious truth. Out of decades, that takes the fucking cake. You guys say you love my daughter, that you want to protect her? Then one of you stays, the other needs to fucking go.” He points at the door. “She can’t have both of you.”

  “Ryke,” Daisy says from her core.

  He looks physically pained.

  Silence ekes.

  I scrutinize the backdoor for a beat. Secured, I remind myself. The gated neighborhood has 24/7 security posted at the entrance, so I didn’t need to follow Sulli out into the dark.

  She’s been a while.

  Banks is watching the door too.

  Ryke smears a hand down his mouth. “Daisy and I spent how many fucking years protecting Sulli from what tried to rip the two of us apart, and you’re about to throw her to the fucking wolves.”

  Banks chimes in, “She is a wolf, sir. She’s not a little girl.”

  Ryke’s jaw tics. “We didn’t fucking prepare her for this. And maybe it’s my fucking fault, but I expected more from you.” He’s looking at me. “I thought you’d protect her, not obliterate her.”

  She’s not obliterated.

  He’s scared she might be. He’s scared what the media will do to the girl who’s largely been sheltered.

  His fear is a toxin, and I’m worried about inhaling the fumes.

  The door suddenly whips open.

  “Dad?” Sulli storms inside, and I zero in on the leaves and twigs caught in her hair. In Winona’s hair, her sister slipping in behind.

  “Sulli? What happened?” I catch her hand as she bounds over, not out of breath, but her eyes are saucers. “Sulli.”

  Shit.

  Shoot.

  Banks and Ryke push urgently towards the backdoor, and I’m about to follow.

  “They’re gone,” Sulli says in a sharp breath, yanking me back to her side. “They took off, Kits.”

  I cup her face, seeing the dread pour through. What’d they do?