Page 79 of Alphas Like Us
“Fucking terrible,” Rykeagrees.
I catch a water bottle that Farrow throws tome—
“Be easywith him,” my dad warns, voice supremelyedged.
Farrow slows down his movements as he reaches back into the fridge, eyeing my dad with moreuncertainty.
“Dad, I’m fine.” I love that Farrow isn’t treating me like a wounded puppy.Please, God, do not let this change.“And Farrow has anMD.”
My dad is only looking for Farrow’sresponse.
Farrow shuts the fridge door, a container of blackberries in hand, and he leans back casually. But his brows pinch. “Trust me, I’m not going to hurt yourson.”
My dad mulls this over for a second, and I draw his attention when I head over to Farrow. I’m unscrewing my water bottle. Notwell.
Uncle Ryke is also zeroed in on my every step. Like I might break. I can barely look at myuncle.
We haven’t spoken since the hospital, and I can’t imagine what he thinks of me. His daughters are his life, his world, and I was supposed to look after them. Instead, Winona ended up in a car crash with me. Needing stitches on herface.
That fact fucking hurts as much as the short walk to the fridge. I breathe out a measured breath through my nose. Farrow looks me over in a warm wave and pops a blackberry in his mouth. His inked fingers movingmeticulously.
“Farrow,” my dad says, capturing our gazes. “Is Moffy pushing himself too hard? Because he looks likeshit.”
“I’m right here,” I tell mydad.
He flashes a half-smile. “I’m talking to yourboyfriend.”
“Never heard of him.” I look to Farrow. “You know I have aboyfriend?”
“Yeah.” He watches me watch his fingers pick up another blackberry. “Because my memory is better thanyours.”
“Never mind, I do remember,” I say and take a swig ofwater.
Farrow smiles wide like it’s too late. I’ve already lost whatever lead I had. And he answers my dad’s earlier question with, “He’s Maximoff. Pushing himself too hard is basically his middlename.”
My dad leans forward on his barstool, looking at me. “Funny because I didn’t give you a middlename.”
“Really?” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Could’ve sworn I was named Maximoff FuckingHale.”
My dad cringes at my features. “How about Maximoff Paler-Than-My-Ass Hale? Are you even takinganything?”
Uncle Ryke pulses the blender. “Toradol should fucking help, but you should talk to your doctor first.” Green liquid churns in theglass.
I don’t have a primary care physician, and that unsaid thing noticeably tenses Farrow beside me. He closes the blackberrycontainer.
Toradol.“Is that a narcotic?” Iask.
“No,” Ryke says and pours his shake into a to-gothermos.
“He’s on some decently strong NSAIDs,” Farrowanswers.
“Then stop moving around,” my dad snaps at me, his voice sharp and harsh. “You shouldn’t even be here.” He points at the door. “Bed.Rest—”
“I have things to do,” I interject. Which…is a lie. I have nothing to do now that I don’t have a job, but I can’t justlounge.
I want tomove.
Toswim.
