Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Beckett frowns. “I’d like to know now.” He’s staring straight at Donnelly. “Why do you keep looking over at Luna like that?”
“Like what?” I whip my head between them, but they’re in a staring contest, neither one blinking.
“What’s going on?” Beckett asks again, his voice strained. “Does this have to do with her?” He’s pointing at me. Eliot and Tom seem perplexed and a tinge concerned.
“No,” I lie.
Why do I keep lying?! Someone save me from my lying, liar self. And yet, I can’t expel the truth here, now, with Beckett.
“Donnelly tell them,” I say. “It’s just security stuff.”
He’s still locked on to Beckett as he says, “It’s always been about her. At least for me, it has been.”
My heart suddenly swells, his honesty singing inside of me. Is this really happening?
Beckett looks equally stunned. “Luna?”
I wonder why it’s so hard for him to believe.
“Luna,” Donnelly confirms, and now my heart pitter-patters like he’s hugging me. “I asked her dad if I could date her. He said not until it’s safe with my family, so that’s what I’m doing. I’m trying to make it safe to be with her.”
“Holy shit,” Tom mutters.
“‘O me, the gods,’” Eliot recites a phrase from Shakespeare, one he usually says when he’s shocked. But like me, he’s trained on Beckett’s reaction.
Their older brother is expressionless. His emotions are caged down, unreadable. His yellow-green eyes shift from me to Donnelly, back to me. The air thickens.
“Beckett,” Donnelly says.
“What do you want me to say?” Beckett winces, hurt starting to cross his angelic features. “That I thought, in a momentary lapse of judgment or weakness, that you were doing this for me? That you would concoct some dumb, wild fake press story with my father and uncle to keep me safe from your family? Because I did. Because I thought you still cared about me and our friendship the way I care about…you know what, never mind.” He shuts down again and goes over to a chair, grabbing his T-shirt and jacket splayed over it.
Just like that, the knife returns to my heart. It seems like too many people in my life are vying to be Donnelly’s number one thought, his number one concern, and I understand the yearning.
He has this rare ability to make you feel like the greatest, most powerful version of yourself. Being around him amplifies all the pieces I love: the weird, unashamed, daring, happiest side of me.
Being without him is just lonely.
“Beckett,” I call out.
His stride is quick to the door, and Donnelly looks conflicted on what to say. Tom and Eliot also hesitate to run after their brother or remain beside me.
“Beckett!” I shout.
Not again. I have flashbacks of Xander storming out of my room.
He says nothing, almost in a trance.
“Shit, you broke Beckett,” Tom whispers.
“Beckett,” Eliot says in concern. “Brother.”
Beckett opens the door. “See you guys in New York.” And he leaves.
I thought I wanted to one-up Beckett, but now that my jealousy is satiated, I just feel awful seeing him hurt.
“I broke him?” I ask Tom. I didn’t know Beckett could break. I pace and bite my thumbnail.
“Donnelly broke him,” Tom corrects.
Donnelly opens a pack of cigarettes.
“I broke Xander,” I say, haunted.
“Xander knows?” Eliot says with a slow-growing smile, feasting on the chaos. “You’ve been holding out on us.”
Yes, I have. “Is it making you feel better?” He’s no longer raging over his theatre troupe. I hope some good can come out of the messiness of my life.
“Somewhat, but I never forget a slight.” He steps into his slacks.
“Hey, stop, Luna with No Middle Name.” Tom sees me pacing. He grabs my arm with his non-injured wrist, halting me so I don’t tunnel into anxiety. “Beckett will be fine. Let’s just focus on you.”
Donnelly comes closer. Slowly, nearly affectionately, he slips a cigarette behind my ear, his fingers lingering against the strands of my hair, tucking them back. My breath hitches, and the moment is a millisecond. But I grip on to it as he plucks another cigarette for himself.
Eliot is observing. “Seeing you do that to Luna now with this new context changes everything.” His lips rise. “You know what the most shocking part is?”
“That you didn’t see it sooner?” I guess.
“No, deception is strong with you. It’s that you asked for permission first.” His gaze veers over to Donnelly. “From her father. Why?”
“Shits and giggles,” Donnelly says, fitting the cigarette between his lips.
“I’d only be shitting myself confronting Uncle Loren with that,” Tom notes.
“I’d just be giggling,” Eliot says.
“No, he’s so protective over Luna,” Tom argues. “Dude, I’m surprised he didn’t immediately nuke your career in security and everything else you love. Wait—are we sure that tabloid is actually fake?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Donnelly says, deciding not to light his cigarette. He slips it behind his ear. Every time he glances over at me, my heart somersaults. “Lo knows I can’t have my family thinking I’m in love with her.”