Page 43 of A Very Addicted Christmas

This is better.

Once we’re both stuffed, I careen over and blow out the candle. We’re bathed in darkness.

“Merry Christmas, space babe,” I breathe in the quiet.

I hear her smile as she says, “Merry Sithmas. The cheer is strong with this one.”

I laugh, and it’s a laugh I let carry me to bed. Though, maybe I should’ve let it carry me to the moon. Her moon.

God, I wonder where that is. I bet it’s beautiful there.

PART FOUR

JANUARY 2039

NINE

PLAN Z

JANUARY 2039

DURING CHAPTER 36 IN SINFUL LIKE US

We listened to "10,000" by Elliot Root while writing this scene.

Character List:

Maximoff Hale - 23

Beckett Cobalt - 21

Bodyguards:

Thatcher Moretti - 28 Omega(Current Client: Xander Hale)

Farrow Keene - 28 Omega(Current Client: Maximoff Hale)

FARROW KEENE

BAD SHIT IS ON the horizon, but I stay in the moment as much as I can, as often as I can. I’d rather not dwell on shit that hasn’t happened yet.

Not today, not tomorrow.

“You know what’s strange?” Maximoff whispers, his posture rigid and guarded. Like he’s that knight in armor.

Wolf scout being a “wolf scout” is still typical and cute, even on serious days. “What?” I lean against the green paisley wall, outside the tower room in Mackintosh House. More relaxed than Maximoff next to me.

“I keep thinking that the weirdest part of being stuck in Scotland isn’t being trapped. It’s how long we’ve gone without paparazzi,fans, hecklers, and headlines. It’s like a noise is missing that I’m used to.”

I’ve been getting acclimated to that “noise” as a bodyguard, then his boyfriend, and now his fiancé. And I whisper back, “You like the lack of noise?”

“Do you?”

He needs me to answer first.Okay.I smile a little bit, and I tilt my head from side-to-side. “No, not exactly. I like chaotic situations.” He knows that. And I still want to be in his messy, chaotic world.

Especially because he’s there.

Maximoff thinks hard, tough eyes planted on the door where Beckett just disappeared into with Charlie; Thatcher and Jane are already inside. “I think I miss the noise,” he tells me under his breath. “I miss Philly, and I think I prefer the kind of chaos back home. Where it’s us against the media and paparazzi. Notthisdoomsday.” He gestures to the door.

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