Page 191 of Alphas Like Us
My pulse thumps hard, and his hot involuntary tears soak myskin.
I whisper in his ear. Until he eases, and his breath matches my breath. It takes minutes. Not seconds, but actualminutes.I would’ve stood here like this for hours if he needed meto.
And when he raises his head, rubbing the corners of his reddened eyes—he sees the wet deck through theglass.
His face drops. “Did itrain?”
Maximoff.
I tell him I wasn’t alone. I tell him that I love him. I tell him not to worry because I’m not worried about it, and he lets me hold more of hisweight.
Earlier today when Maximoff said that he didn’t like Rowin being onboard—because he feared for my safety—I should’ve taken that into account more. I just brushed it off because I thought Rowin would only antagonize me. Nothim.
Neverhim.
As soon as Maximoff shared his unease, I should’ve had Rowin’s ass onland.
I won’t make that mistakeagain.
36
MAXIMOFF HALE
Our cabinalmost seems to sway with the rocking boat. Waves crash against the window, and despite all the bad that’s happened today, this right here ispeaceful.
Farrow and I are intertwined together on the full-sized bed, and I can’t tell you if I’m holding him or if he’s holding me. We’ve been like this for an hour. Softly talking. Sometimes just staring. Letting the night slow with ourbreaths.
When we’re both at a better place, I lean over his chest and reach for the letter on the nightstand, using my left arm. Someone, probably Beckett, shoved it under the crack of our door about five minutes ago. And I’ve been craving to read it eversince.
“Do you want me to read it out loud?” I ask Farrow. He runs a hand under my T-shirt and rubs my back, his palm warm against myskin.
His lips lift. “I wrote it, wolf scout. I know what itsays.”
“Thanks, I retract my offer.” I fall back onto my spine, the mattress bouncing. Our limbs have been wrestling with the navy sheets; we’re all entwined in them. I stuff another pillow under my head. More supported but still lyingdown.
In a swift, seamless movement, Farrow rolls on his side and props his head with his hand. Elbow to the pillow. Facing me, he asks, “Would you like me to leave the room?” His smile widens. “Give you some privatetime.”
“What kind of letter is this,man?”
“According to your cousins,” he says. “A really fucking greatone.”
I eye him for a second, dipping into my churning thoughts. “Do you care that almost everyone in my family has already read it?” Maybe this isn’t something he wanted to be passedaround.
His lips press to mine, a brief, loving kiss, before he whispers, “I knew when I gave it to Beckett that I’d be giving it to your whole family. I’m good withthat.”
I stare at the folded piece of paper. You need to know that despite all the doomsdays and all the apocalypses—excitement still bursts in mychest.
Rightnow.
Because ofhim.
I didn’t think I’d feel this tonight, not after everything, but here I am. Pretty damn close to smiling, and I haven’t even read theletter.
Farrow hooks his leg with mine, growing quiet while he watches me unfold the paper. About to read hiswords.
His handwriting is long and fluid, as casual as heis.
DearBeckett,
