Yeah.
I’m getting better at that. Guess we’re all improving at some things. Getting worse at others. ‘Cause my fucking back is killing me from sitting this upright.
I might get Sulli to walk on my back before we go to bed. See if she can crack the kinks.
The more I feel how proud Akara and Sulli are of me, the more my muscles take a break from yanking taut. My shoulders loosen.
At least my head isn’t pounding. Thank you, Farrow. I’m now the owner of a daith piercing. The silver hoop in my ear’s inner cartilage has been a godsend. Migraines are infrequent enough that I wish I’d spoken to Farrow sooner. Gone to the doctor. I’m just glad I finally did.
Donnelly traces the letter a.
Sulli watches and tugs at a frayed ankle bracelet. “Should I get mine on the right or left?” She shows me her wrists.
“My vote is right. Match ours.”
“You’re getting yours on the right too, Kits?”
“I am.” Akara tosses a purple gummy worm in his mouth.
Sulli opens her mouth from afar.
He wags a green gummy, then tosses that one in his mouth.
She gapes. “Kits.”
“What? You want one of these?” He wags a red one.
“What else am I fucking doing? Just eating air?”
I crack a smile. God, I love her. You could’ve lost her. I try to wipe that away.
“Here.” Akara gears up to throw the red gummy. “Open wide, Sul.”
She opens her mouth to catch again. My unholy mind pictures Sulli taking Akara’s cock. “How am I doing, Banks? Good form?”
“You’re no match for him.”
Akara shoots me a half-hearted glare. “Hey, fudge you.”
I almost laugh.
Donnelly smirks, inking the last little line.
Sulli’s open mouth has closed to make way for a smile.
“You want the gummy worm or not, string bean?”
“Fuck yes,” Sulli says competitively, “give me your worm, Kits.”
He clearly adjusts forward like that sexual innuendo stroked him. But he twirls the red gummy. Fakes a throw. She sits off the cushion to catch before realizing he never threw the candy.
He eats the red one.
She chucks a couch pillow at him. “You fucking gummy worm tease.”
He dodges the blow.
I can tell Donnelly has been tattooing for years—even if his current occupation is security. He lifts his needle as soon as the couch cushion undulates, then gets back to work like no time has passed.
Sulli chucks a second pillow.
Akara catches it, and his smile flickers in and out. Heavy with something. A feeling. I see the way he watches Sulli. Like he’s engraining these little happy moments we’re sharing.
Like he’s safekeeping them in case things worsen. In case there’s no light left—I don’t know. In case of a next time?
There can’t be a fucking next time.
This can’t happen again.
Our gazes catch.
I slip him a look this time that says, she’s still here. She’s not going anywhere, Akara.
He exhales a breath, massaging his knuckles.
I thought Akara would go all G.I. Joe if danger crept in Sulli’s sphere, but it looks like I was projecting. Because that’s me.
I’m the Marine.
Literally.
Once Donnelly finishes my tattoo and cleans off the fresh ink, I roll out my stiff shoulders and let Akara take my seat. And then a knock sounds on our apartment door.
“I’ll get it,” I tell them. “It’s probably Thatcher.”
Sulli and Akara look unenthused at this prospect. My brother isn’t winning any friendship awards with those two, but maybe he’s come to his senses and he wants to make amends with Akara. Become BFFs again.
I want that for Akara.
But I also don’t want him pining after my brother. If Thatcher is ready to move on, then I hope Akara feels like I can be enough of a friend.
“Should I leave?” Sulli asks.
“No,” Akara and I say in unison.
Sulli picks at her anklet again. “I just don’t have that good of a relationship with him. It’s fucking awkward.”
“It’ll be alright,” I try to assure. “He’s just concerned. He’ll be asking us the same thing everyone else is. Are you okay? How are you feeling? Easy shit to answer.”
“Yeah, you’re probably fucking right.” Sulli rests her chin on her knee. On my way to the door, I hear her ask Akara, “Can you answer his questions for me? I don’t feel like talking to Thatcher.”
Gotta fix that.
Don’t know how. My brother has been prickly. And since the incident, he’s been a six-seven overly worried cactus. Maybe he’s here to ask Akara for a longer security meeting about the clusterfuck.
Yesterday’s meeting was cut short.
Akara cut it short. We wanted to be with Sulli. To console her. To hold her. Security logistics be fucking damned, she’s all that mattered to us.
Of course, professionally, it wasn’t smart. Personally, it was everything—there was no other option.
Akara Kitsuwon gave no fucks, and I could’ve kissed his fucking toes. I wanted out of that meeting so fucking badly, and he made it happen for us. I love that he understood she needed both of us and not just me.
Another knock raps the wood.
“Yeah, I’m coming!” I shout.
Akara and I haven’t considered moving out of the apartment, but we do spend more time in Sulli’s bedroom than in ours.
For one, it’s bigger there.
For another, it has more personality. Ours is just a waypoint from here to there. Today, it’s been a place with more privacy. Less cats and dogs. Less people to run into and ask, how are you feeling?
Can I get you anything?
If I want to feel that kind of overbearing concern, I’d rather just meet it with Sulli and Akara. Not with my brother. Not with his wife. Not with Farrow or Maximoff or Luna (not that Luna has badgered me—she’s been her regular spunky self).
Another knock.
“Jesus, Thatcher.” I peer into the peephole, and I go cold.
That’s not my twin brother.
5
BANKS MORETTI
“Who is it?” Akara asks, studying me while Donnelly cleans his wrist for the tattoo.
My jaw hardens. Body crystalizes to some prehistoric stone that needs chiseled. “My dad.” I take a short breath. “Don’t get up. I’ll deal with him.”
“Seriously?” He’s shocked.
Sulli is shocked.
Hell, I’m shocked that those words came out of my mouth. I would rather open the door to the devil himself than to my dad. But I refuse to be a fucking coward and pass this to Akara.
I’m done retreating and avoiding.
The last two days have reminded me that I’d sooner die on my feet than live on my knees. I won’t live life ruled by fear of a father.
As I unlock the door, I realize I have no clue what he wants or what he’s going to say. What’s he even doing here? He works for Akara.
That’s still true. My dad, Michael Moretti, trains the temp bodyguards.
I bet he just wants Akara.
Looks like he’s getting his dispensable son instead.