“I was worried he wouldn’t accept Harry’s help,” Liam continued. “The two of them have knocked heads since day one.”
“Why is that?” I asked. If he hated his biological father the way I knew he did, then why push back so hard against Harry?
He shrugged. “Cole used to act out a lot when we were kids, and Mom didn’t have the heart to discipline him after everything that happened with our bio dad, so Harry had to do it. And you know, he’s a great, loving, super funny guy, but he can be strict. He spent years in the military.”
“And Cole has never liked being told what to do,” I finished. That, and I was sure that once the change came over him and he developed terrifying abilities he had to fight to control, he spent most of his childhood angry and afraid of being found out. I swallowed hard at the thought, unable to speak. If he’d just tell Liam...
“I think he was—I’m not sure this is going to make sense, but I don’t know that Cole ever let himself trust Harry. He remembers more of what it was like when our father was around, and he feels protective of Mom, which I do get. But it’s like he’s waiting for Harry to let us down. To hurt us. And Harry never would. I think he joined the League just to spite Harry, actually.”
“Maybe working together now will help Cole learn to trust him?” I offered.
“That’s what Harry’s hoping. For the record, I hope so too.” Liam pressed a kiss to my hair again before pulling back. “All right. I’m tuckered out—”
I wasn’t tired in the slightest anymore, and I had a feeling he wasn’t either, not really. I kissed the scar at the corner of his lips, running my hands up his neck and burying them in his hair. His pale blue eyes seemed to darken as he leaned down to meet me halfway.
Someone coughed behind us.
And coughed again.
Liam said something uncharacteristically vulgar under his breath as he pulled back, his face flushed and his eyes a bit too wild. “Yeah?”
It was the girl who’d been working at the table—she was a Blue who’d come in with Zu’s ragtag group. Elizabeth. That was her name. Liza.
“I finished, but I’m not sure it looks...I think it might look more like a white banana?” She held up a black helmet for the two of us to inspect. Painted along one side was what looked to my eye like a crescent moon. Liam’s arms tensed around my waist.
“It looks great,” he said.
“Well you know what it’s supposed to be, but what if she can’t?” Liza said.
“She?” I repeated.
“Our contact,” Liam said quickly, “Senator Cruz’s, I mean. When I go to pick up supplies, she wanted something to identify me.”
“But won’t you be driving a car or truck?” I asked. “Not the bike?”
He hesitated, standing up and away from the bike. I saw the effort of his concentration as he turned a smiling face back on me. “Sometimes the bike, depending on the situation. We’ll paint one of the doors of the trucks, too.”
I don’t know what it was, exactly. The odd tone of his voice; the way Liza all but bolted, her face pale; how quick he was to take my hand and start guiding us back toward the tunnel. Every thought that passed through his head had always registered on Liam’s face, good or bad. Seeing his carefully blank face, half-hidden by the shadows in the tunnel, I pieced together the realization.
He was keeping secrets, too.
Vida and Chubs left the next morning, long before the sun came up. Liam, Zu, and I were all there to see them off at the tunnel’s entrance. Regardless of whether or not we’d been planning on it, the two of them had been bickering so loudly from the moment the alarm on Liam’s watch went off that none of us had any chance of falling back asleep. Nico and Cole showed up a few minutes later, both pale and drained with an exhaustion that hadn’t come with waking up at that ungodly hour, but staying awake to meet it. It set me on edge the way they wouldn’t make eye contact with any of us. When I asked Cole what was going on, he only said, “We’ll talk about it after.”
As Vida went over the map one last time with Liam and Cole, I pulled Chubs aside and walked him a short ways down the hall. I could see him fighting inside himself for some composure; Chubs was so ruled by his head, by logic, that he didn’t have a coping mechanism for when powerful emotions threatened his careful process. I don’t think he was afraid for himself, so much as afraid of what could happen while they were gone.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he started. “Be safe. Make sure that you seek out proper medical attention—”
“Isn’t that the lecture I’m supposed to be giving you?” I asked.
“Yo, no time to chat and hug it out,” Vida called. “Let’s get cracking.”
Chubs held up a finger to signal to the others that we needed a minute. Vida let out an impatient snort, then turned a very different finger in his direction.
“I have no doubt you guys are going to pull this off,” I began, “but how are you going to get through it without one of you strangling the other?”
“Well, we’re pretty evenly matched,” he said reasonably. “She has the brawn, I have the brains. Either both of us will come back, or neither of us will because we’ll have clawed each other’s throats out.”
“Don’t even joke about it,” I whispered.
“I have to joke about it, otherwise I’ll probably start crying.” Chubs’s face suddenly looked as drawn as I felt.