Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
“Fuck him,” Banks says with bite.
Thatcher’s nose flares. “Don’t.”
“I love him, but Mary Mother of God, I hate him like a thousand pounds in his direction, and my dumb ass has to live with his death on my thigh.”
My stomach flips.
Roman numerals. A date.
The day Skylar died.
His words drop heavy. Like a small implosion. Banks looks everywhere but at us, and Thatcher drills a pained expression on the wall. I can feel how infrequent they discuss Skylar, and my big mouth might lead all three of us in a sinkhole, but I just speak.
“It could be worse.” I offer my beer to Banks.
He takes the glass, his brows knitting. “How?”
“You could’ve tattooed it on your ass.”
Thatcher laughs first, the sudden noise deep but light.
Banks smiles into laughter too, and I brighten and realize how somewhere deep down, I knew Thatcher would find humor in this exchange. He’s become less of a mystery, and I’m so incredibly fond of the man next to me.
Or rather…the man I’m sitting on.
I blow out a breath, my heart beating wildly.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head.
I’m in love.
Don’t be frightened, Jane.
I’m trying.
Thatcher nods to his brother. “See that, you had some common sense at fourteen.”
“Yeah. But still less than you,” Banks says, lips upturned. Happy that Thatcher is smarter, but Thatcher already shakes his head like his brother is brighter and better. Their pride in each other and for each other is as deep as the Bering Sea.
Banks swallows a mouthful of beer, then passes the glass back to me. “What else should we worry about?”
He means the twin swap.
“Piercings?”
“None,” they say in unison.
Thatcher let out a frustrated breath.
“That question was for me,” Banks says to him. “She already knows you have no piercings.”
He scowls. “Statazitt’.”
“You shut up,” Banks rebuts.
I smile into another sip of beer, finding their relationship the sweetest as can be. “What about scars? Thatcher has quite a few.”
He actually has many. Most are small and scatter his chest.
Banks lifts a shoulder. “I have some, but Tony won’t be able to tell us apart from them.”
Thatcher nods in agreement.
“Your hand,” I mention to my boyfriend.
He removes his left hand off the binder, just enough to touch his bent ring finger. Thatcher looks concerned.
Banks shakes his head. “Barely anyone notices that.”
“Yeah, let’s hope,” Thatcher says strictly. “Or I’m going to kick my twenty-five-year-old self in the ass for re-breaking the same knuckle.”
We all conclude that it shouldn’t be much of an issue, and I think about another angle. How Banks will be left in Philadelphia pretending to be Thatcher.
“We aren’t planning to tell my parents or aunts and uncles about the twin swap, are we?” I ask. “Because I can’t be certain they won’t tell the Alpha lead.” They’re all very close to Price Kepler. He’s been Aunt Daisy’s bodyguard for over twenty years.
Thatcher frowns at me. “If you asked your parents to keep this a secret, you don’t think they would?”
We, Cobalts, are notorious secret-keepers and loyal to the very death, so I understand his confusion.
“I do think they would,” I say softly, “at least 98% of me does, but there’s 2% uncertainty.”
Banks asks, “Where’s the 2% coming from?”
Uneasiness sinks my stomach. I glance up.
Thatcher rubs his mouth a couple times and then nods. “Me.”
“I’m the first Cobalt to be in a relationship,” I explain, “and I just can’t predict whether my mom and dad will challenge you or profess immediate fealty. It’s too soon to tell, and in my mind, there’s not enough substantial data.”
Thatcher and Banks lock eyes and speak through a long look, and then Banks shrugs. “It’s not like you’re supposed to be around Connor and Rose. You’re on Hale duty. I can pretend to be you and protect Xander. Easy.”
Thatcher looks grave. “If you run into her parents—”
“I won’t. It’s only a week.”
I nod. “Since it’s such a short timespan, it’s easier just not telling them. We don’t need to add in more variables.”
Just as they agree, the bar quiets to murmurs, and I follow gazes as the door clatters shut.
Snow and cold air blown inside, Maximoff lowers the hood of his Eagles sweatshirt, and Farrow combs back his bleach-white hair. Hand in hand, they weave their way between nosy looks and side-eyes to reach our spot.
I instantly smile.
Maximoff lets go of Farrow and nears me. “Bonsoir, ma moitié.” His forest-green eyes sparkle with happiness. There’s nothing less that I’d want for him.
I stand off Thatcher to hug my best friend. We breathe deeply, and Moffy kisses both my cheeks. Attention presses on us, but thankfully some bar chatter reignites.
“It’s just you and me, old chap.” I smile more. “And my boyfriend, your fiancé, and my boyfriend’s brother.” My cheeks hurt at this declaration, but his smile drops faster and he glances over at Tony.