Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouts back, edging closer. Closer, only five feet apart. “I’m the one who kept tabs on her!” He points a finger at his chest. “I’m the one who gave her directions here! I’m the one who made sure she didn’t get lost or drive off the side of the fucking road!”
“Great,” I sneer. “Fucking fantastic, Charlie. If your brothers reached out to me, I would’ve never let them travel without a bodyguard. So thanks for helping out my sister, thanks a lot.”
Charlie looks like he wants to rip off my head.
I want to poke out his eyes with a goddamn serrated knife. I am out for blood. I feel like he knowingly hurt my sister. He’s smarter than anyone I’ve ever known, so why the hell would he risk her life like this? “You have beef with me, fine, but don’t drag my sister into this—”
“I didn’t,” Charlie snaps, and I back off for a single second. Because he looks twenty, his actual age, and his eyes flit in hurt.
That accusation hurt him.
“She called me,” he repeats. “There isn’t an ulterior motive. I’m not sorry that you can’t stand the fact that she didn’t call you. That for the first time in forever, you weren’t the chosen one. Get the fuck over it.”
“Fuck you,” I snap. “This isn’t a pissing contest. It’s about my sister’s safety—”
“She told me not to tell you. How about that?” Charlie retorts.
I’m already shaking my head.
“Of course you don’t believe me.” Wind tosses his golden-brown hair. “She didn’t want you to worry, Moffy. Because that’s what you do.”
I bite down. “But you could’ve still told me.”
“Like you would’ve told me if that had been my siblings. If that had been Eliot or Tom or Ben or Audrey—like you would’ve shared anything with me?”
I gape. “I’ve fucking tried. For years, Charlie, I’ve tried. You never answer, you never reply. You hang up on me, so I stopped. You want me to start filling you in when they call me? I will, I fucking will.”
Charlie grinds his teeth, pain leeching his face.
What is it?
What did I do? I feel like I’m close to an answer that I’ve never seen. Never held. “Charlie—”
“I’m not your wingman or your sidekick. I don’t need you.”
I breathe heavily like we’re running for our lives in the same endless circle. “Then you don’t need me, but being a good brother, a good cousin, even, means protecting the people we love. And what you did could’ve killed her.”
He nods slowly. “Just say it, you coward.”
“You’re a shit cousin.”
Charlie charges me. I let him tackle me to the asphalt. I even let his fist bang into my jaw. Then I return the blow. We’re all anger and fists and unspoken pasts and pain.
I don’t see clear until hands wedge underneath my armpits and thrust me backwards. I spit a wad of blood onto the ice.
Charlie’s cheekbone swells, and Oscar seizes him around the waist. Restraining my cousin.
Regret gnaws at me. From behind me, Farrow wraps his bicep around my collarbone, the embrace protective and calming.
Oscar looks between Charlie and me. “You two get that out of your systems? The moment we step onto that bus, it’s a no-fighting zone.”
We’re quiet.
“Maximoff,” Farrow says, his even-keeled heartbeat thumps against my back. Soothing me, and I take these deep breaths that ache with regret.
“We’re good,” I mutter, but a for now hangs in the air. Because even with fists and fleeting hugs and half-hearted apologies—our discord never seems to end.
We return to the bus, and Charlie darts for the bathroom. Beckett springs up from the couch and follows. Door slams, and an ornament attached to the ceiling thuds to the floor.
Jane, Sulli, and Luna are on one couch beneath a giant fleece blanket. Watching Babes in Toyland on the screen. I meet Janie’s big blue eyes that say calm down. Be nice.
I’ll try not to be a hardass.
Akara’s voice escalates from the privacy of the second lounge. “No, you can’t talk your way out of this! There’s no defending it!” Donnelly, Quinn, and Thatcher must be in there, and I’m guessing they’re on the phone with J.P., Luna’s bodyguard who fucked up.
Farrow and Oscar glance at each other.
“I’m not going back there. I’ve had enough drama.” Oscar camps out on the driver’s seat and slides the door shut, blocking out the first lounge. Bus is still parked.
“You need ice?” Farrow asks me.
“No.” I crack a reddened knuckle, and we both sit on the available couch. So close together, my thigh presses against his thigh.
Luna gawks at my bloody lip. “I didn’t think you’d fight with him.”
“It’s fine.” I rake a hand through my thick hair. “What’s not cool is that you ditched your bodyguard. You know how unsafe that is? Paparazzi could’ve run you off the road, you could’ve been hurt—”