Page 33 of Headstrong Like Us

“Me and Oscar.” His brows pull together. “Did he make a mistake on-duty?”

“Eh.” I tilt my head. “I’m not sure.” My jaw tightens, and I explain the entire situation at the aquatic center before saying, “If I have a choice, I’d just prefer that Owen not be on Maximoff’s detail.”

Thatcher nods. “I’ll let Akara know.”

“Thanks.” I laugh when I glance at the bulge in the breast pocket of his black suit jacket. Thatcher breaking security rules is one thing, but seeing him breakbakery rulesby bringing a kitten inside this establishment is entertaining as shit. “I’m surprised you’re okay with having a mascot on the job.”

His features harden. “LJ almost killed Ben’s new cockatiel last night.” LJ is the kitten.

I let out a whistle. “Damn.” Since he’s living at the Cobalt Estate with Jane, he’s also living with the teenage Cobalts like I’m living with the teenage Hales. “You ready to move out?” I watch Maximoff laugh with Jane, their faces bright and happy, and she points to an item in the wedding binder.

His gaze is on his fiancée too. “Not until she is. You?”

“Not until he is.” My lip rises, and I dig into my jacket pocket. I’ve been meaning to give Thatcher something.

He eagle-eyes the door. “As a reminder, you need to read Akara’s handbook.”

“I’m getting to it.” The thing is mammoth and could be used as a doorstopper.

“Get to it faster.” His strict tone is my bigger reminder that he’s now classified as the Omega lead of Kitsuwon Securities. Thatcher ranks above me again. But Akara is at the very top. He’s the boss. The captain of this seven-man bodyguard fleet.

“Okay, Mom.”

He sends me a stern look. “I know you have a lot going on, but it should be a priority. The only way fresh blood will be trained correctly is if we learn Akara’s rules. I don’t care what the fuck you chuck out right now, but the temps need to cross everyTand dot every fuckingI.”

That, I understand. “I’ll read it tonight.” Let’s be honest, I’ll skim it. “This is for you, by the way.” I pass him a business card.

He looks confused at the Philly Aquatic Center logo.

“Flip it.”

Thatcher turns it over and reads the scribbled words:be my groomsman?He’s unblinking and hard to read, but finally, he meets my gaze. Questions in his. “Why?”

I lift my brows. “Because I wanted to. It’s that simple.”

He nods once, and we exchange a serious look, silently acknowledging all the situations we’ve been through together that not many will ever understand. We’ve worked decently well to get the people we love out alive.

And to make sure we’re both okay.

From barreling through broken bottle-wielding crowds after a bingo hall shit storm. To warming Maximoff and Jane after they fell in a bone-chilling Scotland ravine.

“I didn’t expect this,” Thatcher admits.

“You can say no,” I say easily, “but you and I are going to be attached for a long time. As fucking strange as that seems.”

Our future spouses are best friends. Our future kids will most likely be best friends. There are very few paths where he wouldn’t be in my life.

He basically smiles. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t hold this over me decades down the line, if I said no.”

“Finally starting to figure me out,” I say lightly.

Thatcher nods, mouth rising more. “I’m happy to be your groomsman.” He pauses, but then quickly adds, “I wouldn’t have said no. I appreciate this.” He holds up the card.

I smile back.

Asking Thatcher is strangely easier than Oscar and Donnelly. Maybe because he’s quiet. And I knew he wouldn’t say much.

We go join Jane and Maximoff at the horseshoe-shaped booth.