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35

AKARA KITSUWON

“She rejected Akara Kitsuwon in front of an entire football stadium of people, not to mention everyone watching in sports bars and at home, Cathy.”

“We have to give Sullivan Meadows some leeway here. She’s shy in public, and the pressure couldn’t have been easy to handle. Like you said, Jackie, she had millions of eyes on her.”

“Come on, you saw her look over at Banks Moretti.”

“She denied him too. That’s all I’m saying.”

I pull my AirPods out, done listening to a segment of 97.2 The Fix. Sulli texted me the radio clip with sad face emojis and I didn’t mean to reject anyone. I’m sorry, Kits.

With a pang in my chest, I quickly text Sulli back: you don’t have to apologize. I didn’t expect you to kiss me, Sul. It was an impossible situation. And the Kiss cam shit will die down soon. It’s only been 10 days.

She’s put a lot of pressure on herself to be fair and equal to me and Banks, and she’s better at it than she even realizes.

Sulli also isn’t a dig-for-audio-clips kind of client. Apparently, the girl squad overheard the radio station, and Winona sent Sulli the video, asking what she should tell Kinney, Audrey, and Vada.

Speculation has been swirling among the teenagers and the Cobalt brothers. They’ve been left out. Until today, when Banks, Sulli, and I gave the go ahead for certain family members to tell others. Before they start taking sides, it’s better they know that Sulli is with me and Banks.

Winona told the girl squad.

Beckett told his brothers.

And Maximoff told Xander.

We didn’t need to give Sulli’s parents the go ahead to tell Rose, Connor, Lily, and Loren. They had already told them, and mostly, I’m unsurprised. Ryke has been pissy and moody, and I’m sure Loren Hale asked his brother, what’s wrong with you, bro?

I can only imagine his response.

My daughter is dating two fucking bodyguards, that’s what’s fucking wrong.

Phone buzzing in my palm, Sulli texts back a fist-bump emoji.

I’m slugging you virtually for cursing virtually – Sulli

I did curse in text, didn’t I?

I smile a little, but just in case she’s still letting the situation dig under her skin, I send my girlfriend about four dorky emojis. Kiss face, tongue sticking out face, an eggplant, then an okay hand.

She texts the water emoji, signaling wetness.

My lips keep rising, and I want nothing more than to just keep texting Sulli. To forget about all the troubles that pile on and on my plate. Today, I’m currently digging through the main course with my men.

And I’ve just dipped out on them—for a brief second. I just had to text her back and listen to the radio clip in private.

I’m in a bathroom inside a swanky Philadelphia clothier, specialized in suit and tux fittings with on-site tailors. Salt scrub is in a dish next to the marble sinks, and if Banks comes in here, he’d be grunting at the pretentiousness of it all while using the salt scrub.

As I rotate to head back to the guys, the door opens, and my chest rises, half-expecting, half-hoping to see Banks walk through.

Instead, his twin brother comes in.

Thatcher barely acknowledges my existence. He’s my best friend. And our friendship has already gone through the ringer once and come out bruised but whole. Now, it feels different.

Like I’m losing him completely.

Like there’s no way back.

There’s always a way back, Nine.

My eyes burn. I don’t know if that’s true. He’s drifting closer to Farrow, and I’m drifting closer to Banks, and maybe there’s no avenue where we rebuild the bridge that I burned between us.

Before Thatcher reaches a urinal, I call out, “You want to talk about this?”

Craning his neck over his shoulder, he looks back at me. “You already know how I feel.”

I massage my hands, breath tight in my lungs. “I’m not trying to hurt your brother. I love Banks.”

Thatcher turns slightly, expression incensed, pained, protective. “If you loved him at all, you wouldn’t do this to him.”

It’s a gut punch.

I nearly stagger back. Hearing those same words that I heard from Ryke now come from Thatcher—it almost kills my resolve.

I shake my head tensely. “Sulli loves Banks more than you understand—”

“She’ll never love him like she loves you, and you know it,” he interjects with heat.

“Why?” I glower, my chest rising and falling in rapid succession. “My history with Sulli doesn’t change the fact that she needs him. This doesn’t work without Banks.”

Thatcher is disbelieving. “You’re saying you and Sulli can’t be together without him? You’re saying down the line, when things get messy, you won’t realize it’s easier with just you and her?”

“I don’t give a crap about what’s easy.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You won’t have it that hard. You’re the fan favorite, Akara. And my brother…” His eyes redden with emotion. He jabs a finger towards my chest. “…my brother deserves more than coming second to you, to me.” He pushes his finger to his own chest, then motions around the bathroom. “And to anyone in this fucked world.”

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