chapter 19

I blink once—remembering that Jane is here. And then I think: that shouldn't be the only reason why I stop.

He's my fucking bodyguard.

I let go of his wrist.

The old loveseat squeaks as Jane sits up. "I can leave you two alone if you'd like—"

"No," I say firmly and stare hard at Farrell, waiting for him to reject that offer with me.

Farrell sweeps my body with a heady gaze, practically saying, I would've said yes. And then he stands up off of me.

I have no real time to think.

My phone rings on the coffee table. An incoming call. Not a text. I quickly stand and grab my phone. I see the caller ID: my little sister, and I become laser-eyed.

Colossally focused.

I concentrate on the here and now. Everything else behind me.

I put the phone to my ear. "Luna?" Strange breathing filters through the speaker. I frown. "Luna?"

Farrell stares faraway like someone is speaking into his earpiece. He walks towards the front door. Jane springs to her feet and checks her cell for any texts or information.

"Luna, answer me." My cheekbones sharpen. I listen fixatedly, my grip tightened on the phone. She's never done this before, but she's also an oddball.

You know Luna Hale as the seventeen-year-old alien devotee who posts inarticulate ramblings on Twitter and believes UFOs are real. You rudely nicknamed her Secondhand Embarrassment. Some of you even call her "drunk" when she's 100% sober, and you question the sanity of anyone who'd date her.

I know her as my little sister. A girl who stays true to herself amid constant ridicule. Someone I admire and love unconditionally.

Fair warning: I'll kill you if you so much as breathe on her wrong. Simple as that.

Over the phone, Luna sighs so softly. I almost miss the sound.

"Talk to me, sis—" The call drops. What the fuck is going on? I turn to Janie. "Did you text your brothers?" Luna's best friends are two of Jane's younger brothers.

"Oui." Janie texts rapidly. "Eliot and Tom keep sending me devil emojis."

I shake my head, pissed. There are five Cobalt boys, and my little sister had to befriend the two that lit Jane's dollhouse on fire and laughed while it burned. They were ten years old back then, but at eighteen and seventeen, they still dance in chaos.

By the door, Farrell speaks into his mic. "Garage is full. You need to drop her off or park on the street. I can meet her at the car." Farrell gestures me over, but I'm already approaching him.

My phone vibrates.

A text.

I'm on my way to you. Can't talk :( -- Luna

"Luna's on her way here," I tell Janie, who continues to text, and I stop only a foot from Farrell. "What do you know?"

He clicks his mic and says to the security team, "Okay." His gaze clasps mine as he tells me, "Luna asked her bodyguard to drive her here. She also requested that he remain inside his vehicle, which means—"

"She doesn't want him to overhear her," I finish, nodding to myself.

Janie collects the rest of the facts. "She must be hiding something from her parents, and she's afraid her bodyguard will tattle." He would. She's underage.

It's not the first time my siblings have come to me. When they fuck-up, my reaction is the lukewarm version of our over-protective dad. They say I go three-fourths Loren Hale. Sometimes I think they test their wrongdoings out on me just to build the courage to confront him.

Farrell looks at the outdoor security cams on his phone. When he catches me staring, I expect him to turn his back.

Instead, he clasps my wrist and draws me to his side. Our shoulders almost touch. "This is the street view," he says.

The screen shows a few paparazzi loitering on the sidewalk.

Farrell explains, "When Luna's car reaches the curb, I'm going to open her car door and escort her into the house."

I cross my arms and nod. I want to be the one to lead my sister safely inside my house, but I'd make the situation worse.

With paparazzi constantly camped out, exiting my front door is like purposefully stomping on an anthill. Considering I'm deathly allergic to fire ants, that's not something I'd do. I typically just leave in a car. Right through the garage.

Jane pulls the coffee table to its original place. "Luna can spend the night. I'll make the bed in the guest room. We can even watch her favorite movie." Janie tosses the decorative pillow on the loveseat. "I haven't seen Guardians of the Galaxy in ages."

"Yeah," I say dryly, "how about we postpone baking my sister cookies and rolling out a fucking red carpet until we know what happened? She could've flunked twelfth grade for all we know." Last week, she had detention for vaping in the girl's bathroom. She's been apathetic towards school since the bullying started in kindergarten.

I wish I'd been in her grade.

So I could've been there more than I was. I could've stopped the harassment. Somehow. But I'm five years older. By the time she hit freshman year, I was gone.

Farrell clicks into another security camera.

Jane nears us, her features soft and empathetic. She reaches out for my hand.

I keep my arms crossed.

"Max," she says tentatively. "I know you'd rather believe Luna screwed up somehow because the alternative is painful, but you need to consider the other possibility."

That something bad could've happened to my sister. And she's coming to me for help.

I lock all my emotion in an iron-tight trunk. Nothing crosses my face. "I'm aware."

Farrell scrutinizes me for a quick second, and then he hands me his phone. "I'll be right back." He slips out the front door, kicks it closed, and nearly the exact moment a black Escalade pulls onto the curb.

Declan would've never given me his phone. I realize that I can watch my sister from Farrell's cell. He knew I'd want to be outside with him, but to actually keep Luna safe—from media attention, from rabid paparazzi—this is as close as I can get.

And he gave me a better view than any bodyguard ever has.