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)
I was wrong about him, but I can’t budge off one point. “He’s still the same pretentious asshole that quit on you,” I tell him. “Nothing’s changed.”
Maximoff thinks for a second and then shakes his head. “He’s not the one who harassed me. So something’s changed.”
His words catapult me back to a memory, the one with his dad at a café. Where he watched his children and spoke honestly.
“Parenting never gets easier. Not when you love them, and you need to be hard on them, but you’re afraid to break them. And you think you’re doing everything right as a parent because you know what’s wrong, but still, it’s inevitable. We’ll fail. We always do.”
Back then, Lo had no reason to share that with me. He hadn’t made any mistakes with his children yet, as far as I was aware. But my father had made one with me.
And Lo knew I was fighting with him. I wonder if all that time he was speaking to me about my father. Reminding me that he loves me. He’s never been abusive or malicious. He’s just doing what he feels is right, even if it’s wrong.
I shouldn’t villainize him or think he’s willing to fuck me over. Hell, I believed he was capable of murdering Maximoff.
I shake my head repeatedly, and I almost laugh.
“What?” Maximoff asks.
“Words of wisdom from an unwise man,” I tell him. “Your dad.”
Maximoff smiles. “He’s pretty wise for all the hell he’s been through.”
I smile just seeing his. “You’re not too bad yourself, Harvard Dropout.”
He gives me a look. “Christ, call the fucking Coast Guard. Farrow Keene just complimented my intelligence.”
I suck in a breath. “Well now I’m questioning everything because there’s no reason to call the Coast Guard, wolf scout. We’re on land.”
Maximoff feigns confusion. “You sure I haven’t drowned you yet?”
I laugh, and our eyes dance over each other as I whisper, “Trust me, I’m very much alive with you.”
47
MAXIMOFF HALE
The silver lining to losing my job and cancelling the tour early comes in lavender floral bouquets, tuxes, a hundred closest friends, family, and a garden gazebo today.
Spring flowers bloom, and I sit in the front row next to my siblings. Beneath the gazebo, my mom looks effervescent in a lilac dress, beaming at my dad, who wears a black-on-red tux. Both radiate with pure, blissful happiness.
I was at their wedding. Just a little kid, and unlike Farrow, my memories have faded and fogged over time. But this, right here, I immortalize.
My mom and dad renew their vows in front of all of us, and sure, press and cameramen are here too. But the world seems to still.
I swear to everything in this fucking universe—you can actually feel their love. It’s in the air and the silence between their words.
The first thing I think is…I love them.
The second thing pauses me cold.
I want that.
It aches in me. To be able to stand up and declare my love in front of millions of people.
Proudly.
I turn my head and spot the line of security. All dressed in well-fitted, expensive suits. No ties. I find Farrow no problem.
Standing between Akara and Oscar, he cups his hands in front of him, his black hair swept-back. His winged neck tattoo and inked swords on his throat visible from his button-down. His earpiece fit in, the cord runs to the mic on his collar.
And in a split-fucking-second, he catches me staring. I have trouble looking away. I glance at my parents, then back to him, to my parents, then him.
His lips gradually stretch into a smile. So slow it looks like an epic shot in a movie.
I’m gone.
Completely fucking in love with him.
After the short ceremony ends, the garden is transformed into a sparkling after-party. Light bulbs are strung across oak posts, and wooden circular tables landscape the greenest grass. A taco bar and five different kinds of cake line the overflowing food table, but I’m not near the tacos or even sitting.
I’m on the makeshift dance floor, facing a DJ stand, and every single one of my cousins and siblings surrounds me.
Press isn’t invited, but a few drones have flown across the starry night sky.
We jump to house music, the bass pumping, and Jane clutches her little sister’s hand. Audrey’s red hair flies as they bounce together. And I spot my little brother.
Xander stands still in the pit. I jump to him, and he cringes like this sucks. I’m not fucking deterred. I clutch his shoulders and shake them to the rhythm.
All my sisters and my brother can dance goddamn well. Jesus, I’ve seen him break-dance in our living room a thousand times before.
His smile wants to peek. I lift his arms and clap his hands, then I let go and clap mine.
Xander continues with the beat, more heartily.
I mess his brown hair and shout so he can hear, “Looking good, Summers!”