Page 138 of Headstrong Like Us

He swallows a bite of taco. “It’s kind of like after I had you, bud. I did it once, and I knew I could do it three more times.” He smiles more, and I can tell he’s at a better place. “What are you naming him anyway?”

I start laughing.

His amber eyes are like knives. “No. NotBruceorWayne, or god-forbid the fuckingBatman.” He’s squeezing the life out of his taco. “He doesn’t even have a goddamn power. He goes out and plays dress up at night—”

“You’re killing your taco, Dad.”

He loosens his grip.

I explain to him how we all agreed on naming the puppies after places. He missed this conversation while making dinner, but he knows that Luna and I have male dogs, and Kinney and Xander have females. I tell him, “Kinney hasSalem.Xander hasErebor.Luna hasOrion. And Farrow and I named oursArkham, after—”

“Arkham Asylum.”

A location in Gotham City.

I wanted to pay homage to my Basset Hound, in some way, and Farrow came up with the name after flipping through some DC comics.

My dad blinks like his brain short-circuited. He reanimates and licks hot sauce off his thumb. “He’s now Ham Junior. Sorry not sorry.” He flashes a half-smile.

I laugh, and the noise fades as my smile grows. My dad and I watch my son and my soon-to-be husband. Farrow is video-recording Ripley as he hugs onto Arkham.

I want this to last.

I want him forever.

I feel guilty for wishing it, and I almost drop my head. My dad has a hand on my shoulder and softly says, “It’ll be okay, bud.”

29

MAXIMOFF HALE

The six of us—me,Farrow, Jane, Thatcher, Sulli, and Luna—stand at the expansive wall of windows in a spacious, unfurnished living room. And we stare out at the sunny cityscape.

On the 33rdfloor, the penthouse is a massive 9,000 square feet in Center City. Six bedrooms. Seven baths. A private elevator entrance, library, game room, and rooftop terrace. It’s extravagant, colossal, and probably obnoxious.

And it’s all ours.

“It doesn’t seem real,” Jane whispers.

Thatcher puts his hands atop her head, protectively. “I didn’t think you two would ever choose this.” He means me and Janie.

I slide an arm around Farrow’s shoulders, and a smile plays at his lips. I’ve heard all about the house-hunting mission with Thatcher.

Even sifted through the apartment listings they visited. And none of them came close to this square footage. An alternate universe exists somewhere, and the six of us are living in just a normal apartment. With normal amenities and rundown appliances.

But I like this reality.

I talked for a long while with Jane. Being filthy rich has always felt different than living like the filthy rich. I’ve avoided staring directly at my wealth because I don’t need much. Don’t want much.

The older I get, the more I’m accepting the fact that I can change. And I am changing.

Even if you want me to stay the same.

I can be happy in a shoebox or a mansion, but I find myself wanting to give them the world. Farrow and our little boy. I’m not going to beat myself up for choosing a penthouse.

I’m just not.

“Be careful, wolf scout,” Farrow whispers, our eyes fastening with a strong jolt of affection. “Your happiness is showing.”