Page 176 of Sinful Like Us

It’s why Plan Z always existed from the start, but it’s one Thatcher, Charlie, and I didn’t want to have to execute.

Maximoff can’t even be here because if he’s in the room, we all worry that Beckett will try to incite Charlie and Maximoff’s feud to redirect the attention off himself.

I try reverting to a different option. “Mom and Dad know. Akara told them about Beckett, and they’ve most likely had suspicions long before. We could wait and see their point of attack. I’m sure they’ve been planning one.”

Charlie rolls his eyes, frustrated. “We know what they’ll do, Jane. They’ll find a way to takeballetfrom him. Just like we’ve done during this trip. Only it’ll be permanent, and he’ll be a fucking shell after it happens.”

My blood chills.

Beckett needs ballet.

It’s his soul.

His passion.

“Mom and Dad taught us to be self-reliant, did they not?” Charlie questions. “We’re working together and solving thisnow.We’ve dragged our feet for too many weeks.”

Thatcher adjusts his earpiece. “What happens if this doesn’t work?” His voice is deep and serious.

“It’s going to work,” Charlie says, confidence emblazoning him. He wraps himself in it like a cloak. I wonder if the sentiment conceals something else underneath or if his core is just as certain.

I trust him with everything I have. And so I take a deeper breath and say, “Go get him.”

Charlie braces some of his weight on his cane and passes me for the door. He pauses just to whisper, “Que l’audace soit mon amie.” And then he leaves.

His words ring my head. It’s one of our family’s favorite Shakespeare quotes, and in French, it’s become one of our many mottos.

Boldness be my friend.

I meet Thatcher’s gaze. “Do you think we’re making the wrong choice?”

“No.” Zero hesitation in his voice. “Any choice you both agree on, together, is going to be the right one.” His jaw hardens and he blinks. “But I can’t lie to you—it’s gonna be hard for me to just stand here and watch you do this. It’s going against every fucking instinct I have.”

I know.

“Do you want to leave?” Even offering him that option nearly steals my breath. I want him here. Ineedhim here.

That need nearly pummels me, but I welcome the strong feeling in this second. I could shout from the rooftops of the world.

I need him!

I need him!

I need Thatcher Moretti, the love of my life, my boyfriend and safety and comfort and armor!

“I’m not leaving.” He’s as confident as my brother, and I’m quite certain that I’m the one floundering.

I’m the one flopping around in this room. In less than sixty-seconds, I’m going to need to pack on every piece of battle gear I have.

Charlie isn’t the one directing this plan.

I am.

“You’re not leaving me,” I repeat, letting this lift my chin and pull back my shoulders.

“I’m staying here,” Thatcher adds. “Even if it fucking kills me. I’m not moving a muscle.”

Emotions tunnel through me. I’ve never had fealty from someone who isn’t family, and this isn’t the fealty of a bodyguard. Because if he were, he’d stop me. He’d walk out of the room.