Page 35 of Headstrong Like Us

Because I know it’s not what Maximoffwould want, and I also really crave to be there for his parents if they need us.

“Maximoff’s not busy,” I tell Lo. “What’s going on?”

Lo sighs in relief. “I’ve got to run somewhere, and there’s a meeting at Hale Co. that I need Moffy to sit in for me. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

I stand up and slip out of the booth, realizing this is time sensitive. Maximoff follows suit. To his dad, I ask, “Does he need to do anything in the meeting?”

At those words, Maximoff’s demeanor changes. Back stringent, face fortified for whatever storm is about to rage in.

“Yeah,” Lo answers. “Just make a couple decisions on some product placements. Nothing he’ll fuck up—Jesus Christ, we have to fix these elevators.” He lets out an angry breath. “Sorry. I’ve got to run. Tell Moffy that the receptionist will let him know where to go….and thanks. Tell him thanks.” Those last three words sound sadder than any other. Almost guilt-ridden.

“It’s not a problem, Lo. We’ll be there in less than ten.” After I hang up, I explain everything in a few sentences to Maximoff.

He turns to Jane. “You and Thatcher pick out the cake layers.”

“What?” Her eyes pop out of her head. “No. We can pickoptions—”

“We’re okay with whatever,” I tell Jane. “We trust you.”

“Just no red velvet,” Maximoff says, and that makes me smile.He remembered I didn’t want red velvet.

Jane takes a deep breath, and Thatcher whispers in her ear. She nods repeatedly. “We’ll take this very seriously then.”

We waste no time. We fit on our helmets, and I take Maximoff’s hand in mine. Being pulled out of events and everyday things has always been Maximoff’s normal. And it’s become mine.

I’ve grown used to all the rainchecks, but I’m still on edge. Because the entire time I’ve been on Maximoff’s 24/7 detail, Lo has never asked his son to fill in for him.

Not once.

7

MAXIMOFF HALE

“Maybe he just had a stomach bug.”It’s a stupid theory, but my dad getting the shits before a mega important meeting is better than the worst scenario popping into my head.

Which would be my mom or my dad on the brink of relapsing.They’re strong.Over the years, they’ve found ways to keep from spiraling. My dad could just need a break from work stress.

I’m happy to take over.

Farrow plants his concern on me as the elevator ticks up towards one of the top Hale Co. floors. He chews gum slowly. “He did sound like he was in a hurry. Could be a ‘stomach bug’.” He uses air quotes. “Stranger things have happened.”

I glance at him quickly and back at the elevator numbers. “You’re just trying to placate me.”

“Man, if I were trying to placate you, I wouldn’t have given you a word-by-word replay of the exact conversation.”

He did do that in the parking deck here. I asked for every detail about the phone call, and then Farrow said he made a mistake. By not putting it on speakerphone.

But I would’ve cut into the conversation, and there’s a strong probability my dad would’ve told me to stay put or said something like “never mind, I don’t need you.”

I’m glad it didn’t go that way.

I’m glad I’m here in this elevator, ready to help out and remove stress off him. Because if my parents aren’t doing well, I only want to make their lives easier.

I grip my motorcycle helmet, knuckles whitened.

Farrow adjusts the radio on his waistband and edges towards the elevator doors.We’re almost to the floor.I move up next to him. Side-by-side.

He holds my hand.