Maximoff tightens the towel around his waist and runs a hand through his thick hair. I’m more concerned that this is bad news, and I hug the water jug.
“Do I need to sit?” I wonder.
He swallows. “No—sure. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Farrow looks him over. “Take a breath, wolf scout.”
Maximoff glares instead.
Farrow almost laughs. “That’s not how you breathe, but nice try.”
“I’ll sit.” I lower on the rocking chair, swaying a little when my butt hits the seat.
Thatcher almost steals my full attention. He’s brushing Ophelia, and my white cat is absolute mush on the floor.
Yes, Ophelia, he has that affect on me too. I know the feeling deeply well.
“Janie,” Moffy calls.
I realize that Thatcher did indeed steal all of my attention. I flush and focus on my best friend. “Yes, old chap.”
“I trust you with my whole life,” Maximoff tells me.
The fact warms me completely, but I’m also on the edge of a cliff. “I trust you with mine too.”
He licks his lips. “As you know, I’m getting married, and the amount of people I trust to have their hands in the wedding is pretty much…not a lot. And when I think about who I want to remember being involved in this whole process, I always think of you first.”
I start to smile.
“So…what I’m trying to ask… is if you could…would you want to…?” He stumbles on his words, and it isn’t often that he does.
My smile fades.
Farrow glances between me and Maximoff worriedly. Mostly because we can all sense Moffy’s nerves.
“You can ask me,” I say softly, having a small guess about where this is leading.
His shoulders are braced as though I’m about to reject him. “Would you plan our wedding for us? I know it’s a big undertaking and a ton of work—”
“Yes,” I cut him off, my smile already reappearing.
“Yes?” he asks in disbelief.
“Yes, of course. I will plan your wedding. I’d love to.” My heart swells just at the fact that they would want me to be such a big part of this. “Though, I don’t understand why you’d be so nervous to ask me.”
“I know we’ve talked before about you being involved in the wedding, but planning the entire thing is a big deal. And I don’t want this to interfere with your life.” He gestures to me. “You put everything on hold for me, and this is just another thing. I shouldn’t even be asking you—”
“Please stop.” I rise to my feet, setting the water jug aside. “You’re not interfering. There’s nothing to interfere with. I am a jobless, aimless person right now, so it’s the perfect time to ask me.”
He grimaces. “No, you should be focusing on you and finding your passion.” He looks to Farrow. “I shouldn’t have asked her.”
“We wanted her help. You already asked,” Farrow says coolly. “And she said yes.”
They wanted my help. Farrow wanted me too. I smile even brighter, and with an agreeing nod, I also remind Maximoff, “I said yes.”
He lets out a distressed breath and looks to Thatcher. “Please tell me you at least see where I’m coming from.” It feels like Moffy is actively trying to include Thatcher more, and my heart flutters.
Thatcher stares up from Ophelia, brush in hand, and he tells Maximoff, “She’s excited and she’ll be good at it.”
He thinks I’ll be good at it. I breathe in. “Three against one,” I say to Maximoff. “You’ve been outvoted.”
He sinks onto the loveseat in his wet towel. “Je te dois beaucoup, ma moitié.” I owe you so much, my other half.
We exchange a smile together, excitement brewing.
“You’ll need to talk to Farrow about details,” Maximoff says.
I frown. “Why not you both?”
“He’s been dreaming up his wedding since he was a kid. I never thought I’d get married.”
Farrow passes him a to-go container. “Just because I’ve dreamed up shit doesn’t mean I don’t need your opinions. We’re not doing everything I want…” He grins. “Even though that would be nice.”
Maximoff lets out a dry laugh and they start teasing each other.
We talk for a while about wedding destinations, and I propose a scouting location trip. To pick the perfect spot.
“How about a vacation in December?” I ask them. “We’ll be back before Christmas.”
Farrow smiles at Maximoff. “You know where you want to go?”
He says he’ll have to think about it, and after a few more minutes, I stand and cross towards the kitchen. Thatcher sidles next to me.
He dips his head down to whisper, “You’re going to have to leave the house, if you’re planning this wedding.”
My stomach plummets.
A part of me wanted to hole up inside for Tony’s two-month probationary period. If I don’t go out in public, then he doesn’t need to be around me. It was a win-win.
But Thatcher’s right. I’m not going to be able to become a two-month hermit, and while he’s on Xander’s detail, I’ll have a pompous asshole on mine.
We share a long look.
It’s going to be a horrible two months—and the worst part—maybe I am hoping I get hurt. Because if Tony is actually bad at his job, those two months could be cut short in an instant.
4
THATCHER MORETTI
ONE WEEK LATER
I haven’t seen Jane since early this morning. Hell, we’ve barely talked all day. I missed four of her texts while I was on-duty. She’s missed three of my calls.
Don’t think about it.
Fuck that—she is all I’m thinking about.
Jane Cobalt is still in every compartment of my brain, and I’m not looking to cut her out. I’m not looking to shut down or shove off without her, but ever since I moved in a week ago, we’ve been zigzagging in the fucking opposite direction and not meeting at the same point.
Missed calls.
Brief texts.
Gaping silence.
I’m not her bodyguard anymore. Distance between us is territory I expected to cross, but I’m afraid this isn’t due to our fucked circumstances.
I stand next to a wooden stool at an old South Philly sports bar, too tensed to sit, and while I change the frequency on my radio, my breath tightens in my chest. Like an iron fist squeezing my ribcage.
Banks smacks my flexed abs before sliding on a barstool. “She’d call you if something bad went down. Just take the silence as a gift.”
I narrow my gaze on my radio. “It’s not a gift. Silence from Jane is a fucking omen.” I tune into Epsilon’s frequency, and I look over at my twenty-eight-year-old brother.
Banks Moretti.
My identical twin, my soul and conscience, someone I couldn’t live without. The sun could be crashing down on the world, and Banks would be right by my side burning alive to push it back into the sky.
He leans forward on his stool to tie his boot. Dog tags clink together around his neck, which he’s worn since the media and security team discovered we were in the Marine Corps. “You think something’s wrong?”