Fearless Like Us Read online

That was not how I wanted that to go.

  At all.

  I sigh. “I just lost my shit back there because of what he said.”

  “That you’re her brother?” Banks lets out.

  Sulli cringes.

  I glare. “Don’t even, man.” I bow forward a little towards him. “And I might’ve popped off at her dad, but at least I don’t have a death wish. Remember when Ryke threatened to kill us if we touched her? Remember what you said?” I mimic Banks. “We already did, sir.”

  Banks is unbothered. “I wasn’t going to lie. It’s not like I said I fucked his daughter.”

  Sulli goes pale. “God, he really would’ve fucking killed you.”

  I adjust the radio on my waistband to pull Sulli a little closer. To Banks, I say, “When would you like me to hold your hair back while your head is on a guillotine?”

  “Your head is gonna be beside mine, so that honor is hers.”

  “Oh no,” she says strongly, “I’m not watching either of you die. Count me the fuck out.”

  Banks and I exchange a brief smile, then I notice how Sulli grimaces, staring out the window. My face sobers. “What’s wrong, Sulli?”

  “A part of me just really wants Runaway Sulli gone.” She balls up Banks’ tee. “I want to ensure you two aren’t headed for anything fucking bad, not without me.”

  She is here. She didn’t leave us.

  Before either of us can make a comment, she asks me, “Why did my dad lay into you back then?”

  I can’t even remember if she heard anything. It’s years back, and if she was there, maybe she forgot too. “It was mostly about security logistics when you turned eighteen,” I explain. “Like I said, he wanted to be in control of protecting you. But I had to stop listening to his orders, and I took yours. It was a rough transition for him.”

  “You’re his baby,” Banks says plainly.

  Sulli lets out a long groan, cheeks flaming. “It’s not fucking fair.” Is she embarrassed? She’s avoiding our eyes.

  “Sul?”

  “He should be treating me like a woman, Kits. It’s what I am. I’m a fucking woman.” She sounds as defensive as she does passionate.

  I smile, “We know, string bean. No need to convince us.”

  The nickname usually grants me a punch to the arm, but her lips seem to ache to rise instead.

  Banks checks the mirror before switching lanes again. “If you were underage, we wouldn’t have made a move on you.”

  She shifts a little on my lap.

  Fuck.

  Her ass grinds down against my cock, whether unconsciously or consciously—it ripples a shockwave through my entire body. I flex my muscles, and I kiss her cheek lightly.

  “You’ve both only done it to me once,” Sulli mentions. “And by it, I obviously mean putting your dicks inside me.”

  I heat up at her crudeness and the fact that only clothing separates Sulli from sitting on my cock. “Due to time and opportunity constraints,” I tell her. “Not because I don’t want to be inside you.”

  Her dad just yelled that I’m a brother to her, and I want to make clear I’d love to fuck her. Slowly, deeply, with my hand pinning her wrists to the bed. In ways we definitely haven’t yet, because she was a virgin.

  Slow.

  Go very, very slow with Sulli.

  Banks glances briefly at her, then the road. “You worried it won’t happen again?”

  “I guess I just need some reassurance that my dad didn’t scare you guys away. He can be intense.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Banks says.

  I nod, “We knew who your dad was before we slept with you.”

  Her lips fall in thought, like she just realized something disastrous. “I know who my dad is, too. But right now, I can’t tell you if he’ll be blurting this all over the family gossip networks or keeping it to himself.” She lets out an exasperated breath. “Fuck.”

  That thought lingers in the car, even as I hold her tighter.

  I really don’t like the idea of Ryke Meadows being the one to tell everyone about our relationship. It should come from Sulli, Banks, and me.

  Only way to fix this is to start telling more people. It’s what we discuss on our way back home. By the time we enter the Philly apartment complex and rise up the elevator, we agree that we won’t change our first decision. No mega announcements. We’ll tell everyone casually when we see them.

  Only issue is that Thatcher and Jane are still on their honeymoon. I’m at least glad my friend didn’t insist on being Jane’s bodyguard during the trip. Gabe Montgomery was the better option. The bodyguard has been part-time temping and part-time protecting Jack Highland-Oliveira, who needed more security after being with Oscar. With Gabe on Jane’s detail during the honeymoon, Thatcher can relax, and he can personally see if Gabe has what it takes to make it on the full-time roster.

  Banks fiddles with the keys to our apartment door. We still live three floors below Sulli’s penthouse. Before we go to Sulli’s place, we’re making a pitstop to change out our battery packs and get Banks a new shirt.

  Sulli nibbles on a vegan granola, crinkling her nose in slight distaste.

  I keep my eyes alert on the hallway. Comms crackle in my ears, and I listen for a second. No one speaks. But someone is pressing on the mic and breathing weirdly.

  Great.

  Just great.

  I pull out my phone to text in a group thread. Take your sticky finger off the mic.

  Since Thatcher is taking time off work and he’s the lead, I’m picking up his tasks. Like being aware of SFO’s whereabouts.

  Oscar: Copenhagen with Charlie, I think. (Last update was 48 hrs ago.)

  Quinn: New York with Luna, I think. (Last update was 15 hrs ago.)

  Farrow: Philly penthouse with Moffy and their son Ripley, I think. (Last update was maybe 4 hrs ago.)

  Donnelly: the Hale house with Xander, I’m positive.

  Thatcher: Switzerland

  Banks: right in front of me

  Pinning down SFO is becoming a game of “pin the tail on the jackass” that I suck at, and the only way I feel like a winner is to have Thatcher back.

  Banks opens the door, and we push into the apartment. Immediately, the wind is stolen from my lungs at who I see.

  4

  AKARA KITSUWON

  Quinn: Philly security apartment, I know because I’m looking at him.

  Balancing a plate of avocado toast on his knees, Quinn watches college football on TV, but music is blaring over the game. He bobs his head to the beat of a pop song I’ve never heard. When he sees us, he upnods.

  “Volume down,” I call out to the stereo. The music automatically lowers.

  “That one was actually pretty good, wasn’t it?” Quinn licks avocado off his finger and checks the song on his phone. “It was RuPaul’s ‘Condragulations’. Oscar sent me a playlist after we went to the drag show together last night.”

  Last night?

  I try to not let out a sigh. Well, it looks like Oscar wasn’t in Copenhagen yesterday like I thought. Don’t know where he is now.

  I’m a rusty lead (but a pristine boss). Back when I worked for Triple Shield, I used to be better-than-decent at locating the guys.

  “Things are going better with your brother?” I ask Quinn since him and Oscar are actively spending time together off-duty. And I’m still paying for their therapy. Money well spent, especially if they can bury any kind of hatchet.

  Even a Polly Pocket sized one.

  “Yeah. We’re cool.” Quinn leans back, his floral shirt opened and bare-chested underneath. It’s November on the East Coast, but Quinn is the poster boy for trending LA fashion. He’s been a total babe magnet since the FanCon tour, and I really don’t want to be the killjoy of his early twenties as an asshole boss.

  I do believe achieving a balance between work and play is possible in this job.

  I found that with Sulli early on. Friendships with your client make every day more worthwhile
.

  You fell in love with your friend, Nine.

  Okay, I do not want Quinn to befriend Luna and then fall in love with her. Ryke Meadows is one thing, but Loren Hale is a different breed of dad. He has the power to destroy Kitsuwon Securities out of spite.

  Anyway, I’m positive that Quinn doesn’t have a buddy-guard relationship with Luna. He’s said he’s more like her big brother.

  Nothing to worry about.

  Quinn notices Sulli slipping into the kitchen, then us lingering. “What’s going on, guys?”

  “I can tell you what’s not going on,” I say with not much heat. “You radioing me your location.”

  “Do you need to know what I’m eating for lunch too?” He holds up his plate. “5 out of 5 best avocado toast I’ve made all month. Want a bite?” His teeth rip into the bread.

  I have not missed this part of the job. Don’t want it. Need Thatcher ASAP.

  Banks pats my shoulder. Like it’s all over my face, he says, “My brother will be back soon.”

  “Not soon enough,” I breathe.

  He smiles, then studies Quinn and his food like he’s flown in from outer space. “We look like the mimosa-sipping, avocado-eating type?”

  Sulli calls out, “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

  Banks glances over at her, and a soft smile plays at his lips. Like her words were more than just words, but also a memory they shared.

  Time. I want more time with her, but I’ve also had years with Sulli that Banks will never have. It’s not a contest, and we’re all in this together.

  It’ll be easier once people like Quinn know the truth. So we can stop hiding.

  Quinn’s eyes scrunch at Banks. “You get hit, bro?”

  Fuck.

  His bottom lip is puffy, skin more reddened too.

  Banks shrugs. “On-the-job horseshit.” It’s not a complete lie. We were on-duty when Ryke decked him.

  While I head to the kitchen to grab an icepack for Banks, Sulli is already halfway in the freezer. She pulls out a bag of frozen broccoli. I take it, and she tries to whisper, “He’s not more hurt than he’s letting on, right?”

  Banks promised he’d tell us when he has another migraine. But we both know he’d rather hide his physical pain.

  “I think he’s okay.” He better be.

  She eases.

  I want to steal a kiss—the moment is there, but thinking rationally, I touch my knuckles to her knuckles instead of lips to lips. She makes a strange face, red creeping up her neck.

  Yeah, that was awkward.

  Ice.

  Banks.

  I wave to Sulli, losing all sense of smoothness. What the hell is going on with me? Leaving, I cast a single glance back at Sulli in the kitchen.

  She raids the pantry and hunts for something better than a vegan granola bar. Her dark hair is tumbling out of a messy bun, splayed long over broad shoulders. She’s beautiful.

  She’s always been beautiful.

  And I realize I’ve never really loved anyone like I love her. Dating a friend is one thing—dating a friend that I considered life-long feels like racing down the best black diamond slope. Exhilarating, nerve-wracking—or what a Meadows would say: the greatest adventure.

  I center myself and hand Banks the frozen broccoli in the living room. He’s rifling through a storage bin on the bookshelf, searching for the battery packs.

  “Is it that bad?” Banks asks about his face, pressing the broccoli to his mouth. We speak quietly since Quinn is still on the leather couch.

  I scrutinize his swollen lip. “Ryke definitely wasn’t holding back.”

  “Fuck-a-duck,” he grumbles.

  “Hey, at least he didn’t break your face.”

  Banks lets out a short sound, an almost-laugh, and I pick up the remote, lowering the volume of the TV.

  Quinn peers up from his phone. “You guys want to hang at Saturn Bridges tonight? A girl DM’d me on Instagram—she’s bringing a bunch of her friends.”

  Banks stiffens, then locks eyes with me.

  Quinn adds, “I told her I’d ask my roommates since you’re all single.”

  We’re not single.

  A plate clatters in the kitchen. “Cumbuckets,” Sulli curses. She dropped a dish?

  “You okay?” Banks calls.

  “Uh, fuck…yeah.”

  Banks abandons the batteries to go help her.

  Unclipping my radio, I pick up his task. “We can’t go out, Quinn.”

  “Damn. Alright. Maybe Donnelly will be free then.”

  I head to the kitchen, batteries in hand.

  Sulli is whispering up at a six-foot-seven Banks. “You want to fucking tell him first?” Her voice is pretty loud. “He’s like two seconds from setting you both up on blind dates—or with the chicks he brings home. Which is great—I’m sure they’re so fucking rad and cool.” She groans into her hands.

  Quinn is looking over here.

  “You have nothing to worry about, mermaid,” Banks whispers better. “You’re the coolest chick I know.”

  “The raddest,” I chime in, joining their huddle.

  Hands falling, she smiles from him to me, then I extend an arm over her shoulders. “Kits,” she says, “what’s the plan?”

  “He’s our roommate. We’ll tell him.”

  Quinn calls out, “There should be some bread you can eat in the pantry, Sulli.” He thinks she’s distressed about food right now. He knows she’s on a vegan pact with her little sister, and Sulli has been down in the dumps over no eggs, no dairy.

  So he’s not far off.

  “Have you ever gone vegan?” Sulli asks Quinn, a vegetarian.

  “Once, and it was way too hard for me. I felt like I was slowly wasting away.”

  Sulli’s eyes bug. “Fuck.”

  I twist a strand of her hair around my finger. “You’re not wasting away, Sul. I won’t let you.” My knuckles brush the edge of her jaw.

  Her cheeks flush, gaze dipping down to my lips. Tension draws between us, one that we’ve been refusing to lean into these past few days. I remember the knuckle-bump from earlier and the awkward beat afterwards.

  For real, I just want to kiss Sulli like she’s my girlfriend. Because she is my girlfriend. And a kiss shouldn’t cause an earthquake of chaos.

  Everything romantic has been a secret. But today, the three of us are choosing to set that secret free.

  I drop her hair and then I hand Banks one battery pack.

  He subtly gestures to Quinn. “I’ve got this one.”

  “You sure?”

  Banks nods, and the three of us move out of the kitchen. We stand around the living room, and Banks says, “We have something to tell you, Quinn.”

  “Okay…?” Quinn actually mutes the TV, confusion on his face. I can’t even imagine what the hell he’s thinking. His puzzled eyes ping between us. “What’s up?”

  “Akara, Sulli, and me…” Banks makes a motion with his finger, circling us. “We’re in a relationship together.”

  I pipe in fast, “We’re telling everyone ourselves, so keep this to yourself, okay?” That’s an order, I wish I could add.

  Quinn jerks back like someone slapped him. “Wait, you two are fucking?”

  He’s looking between me and Banks.

  That’s what he got out of that?

  Sulli has her hands on her head and mutters, “Fucking fuck.”

  Banks mumbles something, tossing the frozen broccoli behind us, in the sink.

  And before I can cut in, Quinn’s hands shoot in the air. “Not that I’d care! Seriously, you do you—”

  “We’re not fucking,” I say curtly.

  Quinn nods slowly. “…right, so it’s like…a relationship without sex. Like a platonic thing. A bromance.” His eyes light up with the snap of his fingers. “It’s what the four of us have. Four single roommates forming bromances. Yale boys are going to be jealous.”

  Banks gives him a look. “Donnelly is a Yale boy.”

&nbs
p; “So the three of us then.” Quinn holds out his knuckles.

  Sulli is hiding her face in her hands.

  I’d like to never see another knuckle-bump again. That’d be great.

  This is going way less hostile than the conversation with Ryke but about a million times more awkward. I need to get behind the wheel of this train wreck. “We’re not talking about roommates. This is about Sulli.”

  She uncovers her face. “I’m dating them—Akara and Banks.”

  Quinn listens, unblinking.

  I’m righting this further on the damn tracks. “We’re in a polyamorous relationship. Look it up, Quinn.” I grab Sulli’s hand and look to Banks like follow me.

  “What they said,” Banks adds to Quinn before taking the directive. We leave and then enter the bedroom that I share with him.

  As soon as I shut the door, Sulli’s hands fly to her head. “We fucked that up.”

  “I fucked that up,” Banks rephrases. “Lesson learned, hand signals don’t do shit.”

  “It’s a practice round,” I say to them. “We’ll get better at it.” I unspool the wire of my mic and fit a new battery pack into the radio. I have to at least believe that. We’re going to be telling way too many people for us to keep bombing this hard.

  Sulli studies our small bedroom for a brief second. It’s minimal. No personality or artwork or photos of family. Just two full-sized beds that belong to me and Banks, pushed against either wall, and two end tables, one dresser.

  Our lives are so far outside this room. It’s a pitstop. Not a home.

  She sniffs her sweaty shirt, wandering closer to the half-window—which is the only window in the room. This apartment was cheaper because of the shitty views. Terrific for me, since I pay for everyone’s housing, and Oscar’s studio apartment in New York is costing me a tiny fortune.

  “Want a shower?” Banks asks her while he pulls a clean blue T-shirt over his head.

  “Yeah…but maybe later…” Her mind is somewhere else, especially as she checks her phone. Little wrinkles of distress line her forehead.

  Banks and I share a look.

  Ever since we left the quarry, she’s been worrying about her parents. I want to help Sulli solve this crisis, but the only solution seems to be calling them. But that just might make everything ten times worse.