Page 119 of Wild Like Us

“Donnelly usually brings chicks home,” Akara tells me, “but he hasn’t been. Any change in my men, just puts me on edge. I’m just worried about him.” He pushes his hair back and fits on a backwards baseball cap.

Banks reminds Akara, “And he’s been sleepwalking.”

Akara let that slip one time to me. So it’s not news to me that Donnelly sleepwalks.

“On one hand, is he okay?” Akara muses out loud, our feet in sync as we pass the camp bathrooms. “On the other, is he fit for duty?” He touches his chest. “I’m not around enough right now to make that call.”

“Then don’t,” Banks says, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Just let Thatcher keep an eye on Quinn who has eyes on Donnelly.”

Akara nods, exhaling.

I understand competitive pressure from sports. But not the kind of pressure that Banks and Akara face daily. They’re both in charge of human lives, but Akara is also in charge of Banks’ life and the rest of SFO. If anything goes wrong, if anyone is hurt, that falls on his shoulders.

While we continue up a hill, we go quiet and I feel their eyes flash to me every now and then. Being between them is the greatest comfort but the biggest challenge I’m going to meet. For some reason, it feels tougher than any rock I’m going to climb.

27

BANKS MORETTI

Firewood and branchespile high in Sulli’s arms. I grip an axe and a bunch of wood, while Akaraglaresat me and then Sulli. I’d say Yellowstone Country is beautiful this evening with the yellows and oranges cresting the horizon as the October season descends on Montana, but the more beautiful thing is Akara’s annoyance.

Love to push his buttons and see him switch from friend toshut up, Banks, and it’s been too easy lately. Strangely enough, it hasnothingto do with Sulli.

“This is ridiculous. I can carry a log,” he combats.

“I know you can,” Sulli says. “But that doesn’t mean you should.”

I crack a lopsided smile. “What she said.”

Akara gives me a look. “It’s beensevendays since Farrow stitched me.”

“And I’m no doctor, but as far as I know, if you’ve got stitches, you can still break them open.” I nod to him. “I’ll let you hold my logs once they’re out.”

Akara shoots me a blunt,fuck youlook, then whips out his phone as we make our way back to camp.

I try not to laughtoomuch. “Who are you texting?”

Sulli steps over a fallen tree trunk.

“Farrow,” Akara says. “I’m asking to get them removed tonight.”

He was supposed to get his stitches out tomorrow. I laugh. “Asking or commanding?”

Akara’s not the kind of person to ask permission for something he wants, even if it’s from a doctor.

He doesn’t reply to that, just keeps texting.

Sulli and I share a smile. These past seven days have been comical seeing Akara out of his element. Taking a small step back in terms of physical labor has put him in a fucking tizzy. No lifting. No carrying a backpack. Per his doctor’s orders.

Sometimes I wonder if he’d be okay with using this time to catch up on work—send emails, make business calls, all that paper-pushing shit—if he weren’t competing for Sulli’s time. But it’s not like he’s ordered me to go the fuck away.

Akara has the power to say,Banks, your detail is changing. I’m transferring you to Maximoff for the rest of the trip.

It’d be understandable. Farrow is on the med team. As SFO’s glorified floater, I’ve floated over to Maximoff’s detail pretty often so Farrow could take med calls.

No way in hell am I complaining about Akara’s insistence to keep me on Sulli’s detail with him. I don’t want to be anywhere else. It crashes against me. Because I’ve never cared too much about where I’m told to go, I just go.

For once, I want to be rooted to something.