Page 201 of Headstrong Like Us
I lean on the trunk and watch him stack seven cases of Fizz Life in his arms. “You didn’t have to wait to carry shit just so I can see you,” I tease.
Maximoff blinks hard into a glare. “For a second there, I forgot why I married you.”
“You remember?” I chew my gum into a spreading smile.
“Yeah.” He adjusts the soda cases for a better grip. “My brain rebelled against me and decided it sort of likes your irritating jokes.”
“Sort of likes,” I say with a short laugh. “Where do you want to put that gold star for understating your love for me?”
“In the trash.”
I let out a long whistle.
Maximoff struggles to leave the car and go to the house. Wanting this to last one more second longer.
I know the feeling.
My smile softens. “I’m not disappearing, wolf scout.” I lift my left hand, knuckles facing him. “I’m pretty much bound to you.”
He eyes the black tungsten ring on my finger. His lips hike up in an overwhelmed, love-struck smile that skips my pulse.
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Had no idea.” He exhales a breath, still smiling, and I stand off the car. Closing the distance, I run my fingers across his cheek to the back of his head.
I kiss him lightly, teasingly. My smile against his mouth as he growls out, wanting more.
His arms are full, and he can’t lead that into something rougher and longer.
“See you in two minutes.”
“I might be gone for a decade, man,” Maximoff says as he heads to the house with the soda. “I could fall into a portal or walk into a fucking wardrobe and discover Narnia.”
I shake my head and chew gum.Such a dork.I return to the trunk. He unloaded our suitcases, and they rest against the tires.
Before I reach for a bag of groceries, my ears pick up crackling gravel. Sounds like tires slowly crawling on a road. Coming closer.
I stand straight and back up to see. My pulse speeds, and I train my eyes on the rustling trees and deserted gravel road.
No one should be coming here. Not family, not security, and definitely not any fucking stranger. The location of the lake house is a mystery to the public. It’s been a secret fordecades.
I detach the radio on my waistband and unspool the mic cord. I fit the earpiece in and switch on comms. “Farrow to Thatcher.” I speak into the mic, radioing the Omega lead since he’s in charge of the positions of the men. Yeah, I read that fucking doorstopper rulebook front to back. “Is anyone making a pit stop at the lake house?”
Comms crackle.
And his strict voice fills the line. “Negative.”
I move into action. “Maximoff!” I yell and sprint towards the house. Arkham jumps after me and barks little high-pitched puppy barks.
Maximoff fills the doorway, scanning the empty road, then me. “What’s wrong?”
“Get Ripley.” I run up the porch stairs. “Stay inside.”
He’s already picking Ripley out of the chair. Not arguing about ensuring the safety of our son. He just does it.
Right as Maximoff hoists our baby against his chest, a black SUV rolls along the gravel road.
I block Maximoff.
“Isn’t that…?” he trails off.
