Fearless Like Us Read online

  “Panther,” Jack guesses.

  Luna shakes her head. “Uh-uh.” She crawls even slower across the floor.

  “Sloth?” Farrow throws out.

  “Nope.”

  Luna isn’t on my team, so I stay quiet.

  Banks and I are sitting on round, pincushion ottomans, and I’ve reached a point where I just want this out. The anticipation feels like a splinter underneath the bed of my fingernails. My muscles are pulled taut, and the only thing loose is the beer bottle hanging limply in my hand.

  “Anteater!” Donnelly shouts.

  She can’t tell him if he’s close to the answer. But she continues on crawling.

  I take a tense sip of beer.

  Comms chatter is dead tonight since all of SFO is here. Their radios are unhooked. Earpieces out. Except I have mine in, my radio switched to a frequency for temp bodyguards. Oscar took tonight off to spend with his husband and younger brother. I’m listening in case the temp on Charlie’s detail has problems.

  So far, no issues on the security front.

  And I’m vaguely interested in charades because I already know this game is going to be cut short.

  Hopefully by me.

  Banks and Sulli could be the ones to unleash the final blow, but I want to. It makes the most sense for it to be me. Not just because I have experience in hosting “team meetings” fit with messy news—but because no one is so personally connected to me here like they are to them.

  I have no blood relatives in the audience. No one who cares too deeply.

  My closest friend is Banks’ twin brother, and I’m sure Thatcher will have more to say to Banks than to me. So I need to be the one to rock the boat.

  Luna makes a hissing sound.

  “The stray locked in the bathroom,” Oscar guesses.

  Jane gasps from my side of the room. “I take offense; LJ has never hissed like that.”

  Banks says into a swig of his beer, “Little Jane hissed at me earlier while I was taking a piss.”

  “Same,” Donnelly pipes in.

  Sulli jumps up. “Stop the clock, Jack. Foul play from A-Squad, they’re interrupting our team’s time.” She looks to me like I’m going to contest her rules. Normally, I’d smile and say, your call is just interfering with the pseudo-interference, and you want extra time, Sul.

  But I’m not invested in charades right now. I’m just invested in her.

  Jack pauses the timer on his phone.

  “LJ is still unsure of the dogs, is all,” Jane professes. Six of seven cats are all over her and Thatcher, purring against their ankles, nudging their hands, and curled on their laps. Happy their parents are back from their honeymoon.

  Thatcher is officially home, and my friend’s homecoming is going to be derailed by me. Could I have planned this news-drop a lot better? Yeah.

  Definitely.

  I could’ve bought him some whiskey or a pack of Guinness. I should have gifted him something before his head is going to roll.

  But hey, at least Grandmother Calloway got her surprise present delivered here on time. And I hate that I had to let delivery men through the door.

  But Jane hated her present even more.

  A humongous white grand piano is sitting among us like an elephant in the room. Untouched and given the side-eye every other minute.

  Jane can’t even play piano.

  No one here can.

  Anyway, maybe it’s for the best that none of this tonight is planned. Nothing the three of us have done so far has been.

  Love isn’t planned.

  No way would I have planned something this complicated. A triad? A V-triad? It happened, and I don’t want to go in any other direction but forward with them.

  “LJ wouldn’t normally hiss,” Jane concludes.

  Thatcher glances over at the hall bathroom, where they’re keeping the tiniest cat tonight. They’re trying to introduce Little Jane to different areas of the penthouse, away from the dogs. “I’ll check on her, honey,” Thatcher says before leaving Jane’s side.

  Once he disappears, Jane sips a beer, “We can proceed.”

  Jack restarts the timer.

  Shit. Thatcher better hurry back. I can’t announce this without him here.

  Luna hisses again.

  “A feral cat!” Sulli yells out.

  “Yep!” Luna hops to her feet.

  Oscar tosses a potato chip in his mouth. “Exactly what I said.”

  He gets a stink-eye from Jane.

  “Team Cobalt,” Oscar reinforces, pointing to his chest.

  “More like shit-stirrer,” Farrow says with a smile as he claps for Luna with Donnelly, Sulli, and Jack. Oscar joins in the applause.

  O-Squad is beating the shit out of us right now.

  Five to nothing.

  Thatcher, Jane, Maximoff, Banks, and Quinn are on the losing end with me.

  Banks nudges me. “How’d they get so good at this game?”

  “Sulli’s on their team.”

  She’s too competitive to just give up that easily. I would’ve picked her on our team after being nominated team captain, but Oscar chose her first.

  “Wait, wait,” Maximoff says to everyone as Luna ventures back to the sofa. Even his ten-month-old son on his lap looks up at him. Ripley is squeezing his stuffed animal, a yellow parrot with an eyepatch.

  Baby needs a bodyguard.

  Soon.

  I have to create a mess before I clean that one.

  “You can’t hiss. I swear that’s against the rules,” Maximoff declares.

  “Hissing isn’t talking,” Luna says into a shrug. “Jane’s rules were just no talking.”

  Jane cringes. “Technically, that is what I said, old chap.”

  Maximoff replies to her in French.

  She nods sympathetically, and Maximoff hands Jane the bowl of papers, full of charades topics.

  Sulli swigs harder from a beer, staring at the ground.

  You just won a round, Sul.

  But she knows my turn isn’t next.

  I set down my beer and massage my palms. Unable to peel my eyes off Sulli. Before the game even started, we agreed that we’d announce our relationship during one of our turns.

  Our team chose Banks to go first. But he wasn’t about to open charades with a bomb drop. Sulli has yet to be called on, and my turn should be soon.

  The actual anticipation isn’t grinding down on only me.

  Banks leans into my arm. “What’s Quinn doing?”

  I find him fast.

  Quinn.

  Come on.

  He’s staring so hard at Sulli, he looks like he’s trying to penetrate her damn mind.

  My muscles tighten. “He has zero chill.” Once his eyes ping to me, I send him a disapproving glare.

  He scratches his unshaven jaw. “Arkham! Orion!” Calling the two dogs just draws more attention to him, including the attention of Oscar.

  One of the most perceptive guys I’ve ever known.

  Wonderful.

  So very wonderful.

  “Mother of Christ,” Banks mumbles. “We’re fucked.”

  “Not yet.”

  Luna is keeping her cool. She laughs at something Farrow and Donnelly say, but even that sends me on edge. I don’t know what Sulli knows about Luna, but I’ll find out with Banks. Some way or another.

  Thatcher comes back before the next round.

  Perfect. We’re not that out of luck.

  “Alright, this one is a bit…strange.” Jane stands, crinkling the paper. “But I’ll try.” She takes position in the center of the room and kisses the air in one direction. Then she turns around and kisses the air in the other direction.

  My stomach knots.

  “Whistling,” Maximoff guesses with way too much confidence. Ripley giggles up at his dad.

  Farrow’s brows rise. “That’s what you think whistling looks like, wolf scout?”

  Maximoff makes a face. “No talking from the enemy team.”

  Ripl
ey babbles to Farrow, trying to mimic Maximoff.

  Farrow’s smile stretches into a laugh. “Okay, Last Pick.”

  I did pick Maximoff last. I’ve been around these families long enough to know that Maximoff Hale sucks at charades.

  Maximoff groans out, but he’s smiling.

  There are so many couples here, and it’s making me want to reveal my relationship even more.

  “You alright, boss?” Donnelly asks across the room.

  I lift my gaze and nod once. “Yeah.” I’m fine.

  Just fine.

  Cut in and hold an emergency meeting.

  Cut in and tell them.

  Wait, Nine.

  Something tugs at me and stops me from interrupting.

  Jane continues. She pushes at the air like she’s pushing someone away, and then she turns back and kisses the air on the opposite side.

  I can’t help but think about Sulli.

  About us.

  Did someone put polyamory as a charade option? I glance to Quinn. He hasn’t taken his gaze off Sulli this whole time. Not even as he grabs a handful of popcorn from a bowl.

  “Kissing! Love!” Thatcher guesses.

  Jane lets out an exasperated breath and shakes her head. She goes back to the other side and mimes kissing someone again.

  Thatcher looks between Banks and me. “You two going to guess here?”

  He doesn’t want to leave his wife high and dry on her round, but the only guess I have is polyamory and I’m not about to blurt that out.

  “Peacocking!” Banks shouts unhelpfully.

  Jane looks like she’s imitating her little brother with Beckett’s classic what the fuck face. I laugh a little into my beer. Three more air kisses, and the timer goes off.

  Thatcher gives Jane an encouraging nod. “That one was hard.”

  Banks whispers to me, “That’s what she said.”

  “To you or to me,” I joke, hanging onto that levity with Banks.

  He slaps my chest, then steals my beer, downing the rest.

  Thatcher overhears our whisper-fest and gives us a strange look. Like something has changed. He’s not on the outs.

  But I’m closer to his brother. Closer than I’ve ever been.

  Dirty thoughts infiltrate. I picture Sulli’s hand…but Banks’ cock. That image heats my blood.

  “Cheating,” Jane says.

  That word ices me over in an instant. Hair stands up on my arms.

  “What?” I ask.

  “The answer was cheating,” Jane clarifies. “I was kissing two guys.”

  Great.

  Great.

  That’s what cheating is considered these days? I run a hand through my hair.

  Sulli slumps further on the sofa next to Luna, who whispers to her, then throws a blanket over their heads.

  Banks whispers, “I wish Sulli were on our team.”

  “She is metaphorically.”

  We’re all on the same team.

  Jack rifles around the papers in the glass bowl.

  Oscar shakes Quinn’s arm. “You alright over there, little bro?”

  “Huh?” Quinn turns to his brother.

  “Look at you,” Oscar grins, “you’re crushing on Sulli.”

  “Oscar.” Quinn looks horrified. “I don’t have a crush.”

  Don’t look over here, Quinn.

  Don’t look over here.

  He looks over here.

  Shit.

  I glare.

  Oscar eats popcorn slower, studying me way too closely.

  Now we’re fucked.

  I stand up. “Who needs refills?” The quick distraction causes hands to shoot in the air and drink orders to be listed off quickly.

  “I’ll help,” Sulli throws off the blanket, uncovering her and Luna. She follows me fast into the kitchen.

  Sulli opens the fridge and practically steps inside.

  “You cooling off?”

  “Yeah, I’m so hot from this whole night. Like could it get anymore fucking tense?” She pulls out a few beers and hands them over. “And we haven’t even told them yet.” She takes one more from the fridge and kicks the door closed.

  “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

  She twists off the cap to her beer and takes a giant swig. More used to the taste of beer than her first taste a couple years back. Honestly, I support the fact that she wanted to drink tonight. Alcoholism runs in her family, but she’s never abused alcohol. What concerned me was when she’d pass out after drinking nearly nothing, but that hasn’t happened in a long time.

  Beer is relaxing her nerves tonight, and I’d be a hypocrite if I said I haven’t had a drink while stressed. I’m keeping an eye on her—like I’ve done for years.

  She wipes her mouth with the side of her wrist. “Next person up for charades has to do it.”

  “Me,” I tell her. “It has to be me.” I want to kiss her. We’re out of sight from the game. From onlookers.

  But I play it too safe and kiss her cheek. A peck. An awkward beat tries to pass, but I tell her assuredly, “More is coming later.”

  Sulli begins to smile. “Promise?”

  “Promise.” I hook my pinky with hers, then I kiss her knuckles.

  Sulli now starts to melt, her smile more uncontrollable. And how stupid I was—to never kiss her earlier. Kissing her didn’t ruin what we had. The feelings grow inside me. Infinitely stronger. “Jeez, Kits.”

  “Jeez, what?”

  “You’re fucking hot.”

  I laugh.

  “And jeez, I can’t believe this is real. We’re not just friends anymore.”

  “It’s about to be more real.”

  “Yeah.” She glances back. “I think I’m ready.”

  Me too.

  No more waiting, I release her hand, just to hug her side, and then we return, hearing Jack’s round end with more cheers.

  “Your team is already taking the L,” she whispers to me.

  “The team that I want to win hasn’t played yet.”

  Her smile softens.

  “Who’s up?” Jane asks.

  “Me,” I say and quickly hand out the beers. As I grab a random slip of paper from the bowl, I meet Banks’ eyes. I do my best to silently tell him it’s happening now.

  He must read me because he gives me a nod.

  My stomach knots as I unfurl the slip of paper. Slowly, I read the word and make my way to the middle of the room.

  Nightmare.

  I blink.

  That doesn’t mean anything. It can’t mean anything.

  I try not to think too hard about why I picked this word in this moment. I don’t want to pull at a meaning that isn’t there.

  Silence blankets the room as everyone waits for me. Time feels slow right now. Like if I tried to take a step, my foot would feel weighted down with bricks.

  I lick my dried lips.

  You can do this, Nine.

  I take a deep breath and face the room. And then I point to Banks and then to Sulli and then to my chest. Without reservation, I make the same motion over and over and over again. Air tenses. The only sound is Oscar’s crunch on a popcorn kernel.

  Strangely, I breathe easier the longer I motion to Banks, to Sulli, to me.

  Over and over and over.

  “Two guys…and a girl?” Maximoff guesses.

  I motion again and again.

  Oscar drops a handful of popcorn back in the bowl. “You finally do it, Kitsuwon?”

  Maximoff goes rigid. “What does that mean?”

  And clearly, without stopping, I say, “Banks has been dating Sulli since Yellowstone. They’re together.”

  “What?” the Yale boys almost say in unison. They thought it’d be me and her.

  Jane is beaming. “Oh my God!” She crosses the room excitedly to Sulli and squishes her in a hug.

  SFO is confused, except for Quinn, but soon that veers into happiness once they see that I’m not upset. Donnelly, Farrow, and Oscar slow-cla
p for Banks, and Thatcher wraps an arm around his brother, bringing him closer.

  Thatcher…Thatcher is smiling. In the hierarchy here, I’m so often first, and for once, I just wanted Banks to feel what that’s like.

  Selfless Banks—he’s not reveling in merriment.

  He’s looking at me like I’m the biggest fool of all. But I’m not hurt seeing how they love Banks and Sulli together because I really love them together too.

  “That’s not all,” Banks says loudly, causing the room to go still.

  “Kits,” Sulli says, tearing out of Jane’s hug. “Tell them.”

  Everyone is quiet.

  And after a beat, I announce, “I’ve been dating Sulli since Yellowstone too. When we came back, the three of us decided to be in a poly relationship.” I barely get the definition out before the mutterings of what? and holy shit.

  Oscar says, wide-eyed, “Didn’t see that coming.”

  The mood shifts. Everyone slowly turns silent. Tension mounts.

  Thatcher is stoic and still. He narrows his gaze on me, then on his brother. He cocks his head to the left, signaling a need to talk to Banks.

  Banks nods.

  “Maximoff,” Farrow calls out in concern.

  Maximoff isn’t letting anything pass through his features. All sharp cheekbones. He’s already standing. “Can you hold Rip for a sec.” He hands Ripley off to Farrow. “I need to talk to my cousin.”

  Sulli rises, her other cousins following her out.

  I watch as Sulli and Banks are pulled away by family. The three of us are separated in different directions. And I’m left alone with Jack and SFO and what’ll probably be a round of probing questions. So I sit on the ottoman, and I pick up a bag of stale Fritos in the awkward silence.

  Just wishing I could be in two places at once.

  With her and with him.

  8

  SULLIVAN MEADOWS

  Libraries have never comforted me like the woods or the water. Like stories my mom grew up telling me.

  Standing among bookcases of hardcovers and paperbacks just reminds me of all the pages I’ve never read, all the stories I’ve never completed.

  My dad loves reading, but he never really advertised that part of himself. Most of his books are kept in trunks. Worn covers and dog-eared pages. Sometimes he just went ahead and donated them after he finished the last page.

  While I’m in the penthouse’s library, I look everywhere but at my cousins. Jane has said the library brings back memories of Princeton. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves cover the walls. Green-stained glass lamps on a reading table are turned on, casting warm lighting tonight.