Page 192 of Alphas Like Us
You once asked if I had something to hide. And in so little words, I replied by telling you to stay out of my relationship. Looking back, I should have said somethingdifferent.
I should have told you that I’m a private person. That the idea of anyone digging into my relationship was both foreign and uncomfortable. When it came to my past boyfriends, my father asked the bare minimum. Being confronted by you was a lesson in love—a different kind that I’d neverknown.
I should have told you thatI’m in love with him.An indescribable kind of love. And I realize now, loving Maximoff entirely means letting his family in. Because the day that I’m the reason there’s tension between him and you is the day I’ve failedhim.
I should have told you that my mother isn’t going to be here for my future. For a wedding or kids. I’ve known that since I was four. But what I also know is that every day that goes by, I live to make her proud. And the only way I know how to do that is to live for love and to ensure that wherever I go, whatever I do, I amfulfilled.
I should have told you that without him, my life would beempty.
I should have told you that I’m prideful, and I would never admit that I had things to learn. But I did. And still do. He’s already taught me more than enough about goodness, morality, and unconditional love. But I still hope for a future where that doesn’t end. Where he’s still teaching me things that I’ll tell you I’d alreadyknown.
I should have told you that I care about what you think. And I want you to trust me with him. One day, I hope youcan.
Sincerely,
Farrow RedfordKeene
My breath deepens, eyes burning. People talk about grand gestures, but this one feels monumental and immeasurably gigantic. And I know this letter was for Beckett and my family, but I think he knew it would be for me,too.
I fold the letter back, creasing the seams. He runs his fingers through the thicker pieces of myhair.
Words. So many damn words are jumbled in my head but none feel right. So I just blurt out, “You underlinedI’m in love with him.” My voice ischoked.
“Yeah, I did that,” he nods, his gaze roping me in. Like I’m being tugged beneath serene water, swimming. Swimming.Alive.
I lean over, hand to his cheek, and my mouth crushes against his mouth with deep,deepemotion that pools hot inside of me. Deepening the kiss, I push my body into him, and a noise catches in histhroat.
He rolls on top of me, our breaths and bodies collidingtogether.
* * *
Next morning,the sun hasn’t risen yet. But I’m awake and semi-ready for a pre-planned training session with Sulli off the yacht. I’m not bailing on the ultra-marathon nextmonth.
Which means I need to move my ass andrun.
I saysemi-ready because I’m kind of, sort of, exhausted from my tornado of a birthday. I’ve never had a hangover. But this has to be close to thefeeling.
I breathe easier knowing Rowin is gone and fired. SFO kicked him off the boat last night, and I heard he took a flight back to Philly. Thankfully Farrow has a high immunity against regret and remorse, and I’m so damn happy that he’s not eaten up with blame for Rowin’s actions. For most shit storms, he maintains anot happening againattitude and moves forward withme.
The two of us—we’re fueling a lot of family drama and gossip these days. And by gossip, I mean they’re all just whispering thetruth.
“What the ever loving fuck?” Sulli gawks back at me. “Is snot running out of yournose?”
I rub my sweaty, snot-running face with the bottom of my green muscle shirt and then spit a wad of phlegm. Drop-dead-gorgeous,me.Clearly marriage quality,me.
Struggling to run up all 588 steps of the Karavolades Stairs in the Cyclades Islands,meagain.
As the sun begins to crest the Aegean Sea, warm light bathes the winding, cobbled stairs that stretch up a rocky cliffside. Starting at the seaport, Sullivan, Akara, Farrow, Jack, my bodyguard, and I have been ascending the weaving steps towards the town Fira, the capital ofSantorini.
My endurance is up to par. What’s really kicking my ass is the cobbled ground. The hard, uneven terrain beneath my soles sends shockwaves up my body. Rattling my shoulders and my slowly healing collarbone in this imperceptible, painfulway.
“I’m not dying,” I say confidently to Sulli, who has braked three stairs ahead of me. Her Camp Calloway baseball cap shades her green eyes from the growing light. She uses the pitstop to stretch her muscular arm across herchest.
My cousin is not evenwinded.
Whereas Akara and Farrow are panting, both drenched in sweat and catching their breaths. Jack is also beat, but he has the added weight of a light steadicam contraption attached to hischest.
All four stare down at me likeStubborn Foolis written in bold letters across my forehead. Farrow, in particular, has been eyeing me with a bucket load of concern but alsoamusement.
