Page 69 of Wild Like Us
Now that I’m older, I know it’s just another word forsoul mate.What the lucky few will find in their lifetime.
At least my brother found his.
I look up at the star-blanketed sky. Wondering if I should ask a higher being or my other brother if I’m meant for more.
My other brother.
I almost roll my eyes at myself. Love and hate tumbles through me in a nauseous mixture. Skylar is a sore subject, even in my fucking head.
“You okay, Banks?” Akara asks as we come up.
I must look how I feel. Christ, his concern puts a pit in my gut. For more than one reason. If I even mentioned the nameSkylar, Akara wouldn’t know who the hell I’m talking about.
No one exceptJanewould.
The death of my older brother is long-forgotten. So buried that it never even leaked online when Thatcher got more famous.
Memories might fade, buthismemory is still there. Wreaking havoc on me.
I love that Jane knows about him because I never had to vocalize the story. Never had to drudge up the history. Thatcher did all the work, and I reaped all the benefits.
Having someone else know is a weight off my chest. Some days it’s even a comfort.
Right now—staring at Akara—the second pit in my stomach is heavier.
I kissed Sulli.
“Yeah, I’m alright.” I cross my arms, scanning the parking lot.
I kissed Sulli.Fuck, I want to tell him.
Meeting this impact now and not later sounds way fucking better.
I kissed Sulli.
I uncross my arms. “You about ready?” I motion with my head to the motel room.
Akara nods, clasps Oscar’s hand in a goodbye.
“Wait, before you go,” Maximoff says to us. “We have a ton of extra food you should take for the car ride. We overbought.”
“Moffy overbought,” Jane corrects, approaching with Thatcher by her side.
“Overprepared,” Farrow chimes in, then explains to Akara. “We have about two hundred cups of applesauce. Ripley won’t finish all of it, and we need to make room.”
“We’ll take it,” Akara says. “Saves us from stopping constantly. We’ll make better time on the road.”
In the next few minutes, they wrap up to leave. Maximoff hands me a heavy grocery bag of applesauce cups and snack-sized packs of Teddy Grahams.
I hug my twin brother. “See you on the other side.”
Thatcher hugs tighter. “Stay on comms.”
“Is that my brother speaking or my lead?”
“Both.”
“Right on, right on,” I smile.It’s okay, Thatcher.I speak the words through my gaze. He’ll understand. He always does.
