Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
I’m about to make a quick exit, but as soon as I chuck the dog leashes in a wicker basket, Lo says, “You better not go.”
I’ve wanted him to tell me that.
More than he’ll ever know.
You better not go. But he’s not pleading with me to stay because he’s grown a liking to me—I have answers and he looks like he could butcher me for them.
Lo adds, “Not before you tell me what’s going on. Why’d you say that? Sorry for your loss? Who were you talking about?”
“Maybe someone else should tell you…” I crane my neck over my shoulder, expecting Maximoff or Farrow to enter by now.
No one does.
It’s just me. Alone. With Luna’s dad.
“Why?” He’s more pissed. “You and me. Trust.” He motions from his chest to my chest, as if the trust meter between us is teetering towards empty again.
“I’m just not the one who should tell you, I don’t think.”
His face screws up in several emotions. “You said sorry for your loss. You said he meant something to me. You know what I’m thinking? If it’s that goddamn bad, then my phone would be blowing up. Ryke would be calling me. He would’ve already told me himself.”
“I have no clue why your brother hasn’t called you yet,” I say. “Maybe he’s taking a bubble bath.”
Lo shoots me a look like I’m not helping.
I thought it was a funny image. I scratch the back of my head, turning to go.
“Did someone die?” Lo finally asks.
Slowly, I twist back.
I see on his face he doesn’t fully believe it, but he’s breathing harder like he might.
I stay quiet, a noiseless confirmation.
His shoulders arch, cheekbones sharpen. “Who?” Fear flickers in his eyes. He reaches in his pocket for his phone.
“Greg Calloway,” I tell him. “Your father-in-law.”
Patriarch of the Calloway sisters. Creator of Fizzle: the behemoth soda company that rivals Coca-Cola and Pepsi. Husband to the Crow. Grandfather to Luna.
Greg was old. I’m guessing it’d be expected at some point, but he’d been healthy for his age. It came suddenly.
“How?” Lo asks.
“Heart attack in his sleep.”
“No, how did you find out?” His breathing heavies again.
If I answer this, am I throwing Luna’s older brother under the bus? I take too long to respond.
Lo looks murderous. “I swear to God, Paul, if you don’t tell me, you are going to rise up my shit list—and I’ve just bumped you down.”
“So you do like me—”
“Paul.”
Maybe not by much.
No one said this was a secret. If it turns out it is one, I can ask for forgiveness later.
“Maximoff. He told me,” I reveal, just as the front door opens and in walks Maximoff Hale.
3
PAUL DONNELLY
I can barely meet Maximoff’s eyes.
Farrow with their two babies and Luna aren’t far behind him. They shut out the cold winter, entering the warm living room where the wood-burning fireplace is lit. Flames crackle and spark, and I’m thinking I should skulk away from this family matter. Find a dark corner or something. It doesn’t really involve me.
“Who told you about Greg?” Lo asks his son.
Maximoff hasn’t even unzipped his Patagonia jacket yet. He casts a brief glance at me, tension thickening.
“You didn’t know?” Luna asks her dad.
“No, I didn’t know.” He’s staring down Maximoff now.
Luna sends me a wide-eyed look that says, oh no. She’s on edge. Maybe for me. Maybe for her brother. Maybe even for her dad.
I want to tell her there’s no hole too deep that I can’t climb out of. That I’d do whatever it took to help her out too. That despite all the bad luck we’ve encountered and every misstep I’ve ever made, I know we’ll still come out on top. Hope is the main thing keeping my head above water. I’m more terrified of ever losing it.
“Dad,” Maximoff says slowly.
“How do you know, and I don’t?” Lo asks.
“Grandpoppy Lo.” Ripley cuts into the strained air. “Do you have-have a…” The little boy stares up at Farrow for the word.
“Popsicle,” Farrow says. “He’s been talking about them all the way here.” To Luna, he explains, “Lily always gives him one.”
It’s a past that Luna can’t remember. She seems appreciative of being kept in the loop.
Lo squats and makes a funny face at Ripley. “You want a popsicle? In the cold?”
Ripley nods his head vigorously. “Please?”
“Okay, Iceman.” He stands. “We’ll get you a popsicle. Only because you’re my favorite grandson, but shhh.” He puts a finger to his lips. “That’s a secret between you and me.”
Ripley nods, taking the secret-keeping business seriously. It’s cute and all, and maybe Baby Ripley has softened Lo’s sharp edges.
But Lo doesn’t lead the little boy into the kitchen. Instead, he tells Farrow, “Popsicles are in the freezer. I need to talk to your husband.”
“He’s not at fault, Lo,” Farrow says, defending Maximoff.
“And I’m not blaming him,” Lo retorts. “I’m just trying to figure out what the hell happened.”