Extra Bonus #69: Xander's Missing Phone - Part Two (Patreon)

IMPORTANT: Please do not screenshot and post any part of this bonus scene to other sites or share with non-patrons. All of the Patreon content is exclusive to Patreon and for current patron's eyes only.  Thank you!! xoxo Krista & Becca

RESOURCES:  Check out this narrative timeline graphic to visually see when this bonus scene takes place.

READING ORDER: This is a multi-POV bonus scene, and we highly suggest reading them in this order:

1. Part One

2. Part Two

3. Part Three

MUSIC: We listened to "Never Let You Go" by Third Eye Blind while writing this bonus scene.

IN THE DRIVEWAY at my in-laws’ house, Maximoff tosses the car keys at my chest, and I catch them with raised brows.

“You’re letting me drive?” I say to him. See, he agreed to me driving to the gated neighborhood, if he drove next time. Well, it’s next time, and I did not expect him to give up this easily today.

Not since I’ve been feeling like shit all morning and being a “passenger princess” takes less energy.

I thought he’d want to roll out a stretcher and IV bag and to fluff extra pillows against my head. He did try to do the pillow thing last night while we watched a movie in bed, and it was cute as fuck. What was cuter: his glare when I started cracking up laughing.

Maximoff is the serotonin boost that my low energy levels definitely need. Even when he tossed the pillow at my face and then immediately apologized—I could’ve married him all over again.

He shuts the rear door to our Audi. Ripley is already buckled in his car seat. He gestures a hand towards me. “No, I just gave you the keys so you can see what you’re about to miss out on.” His sarcasm is thick.

I roll my eyes. “Okay, smartass.” I study him in a quick up-down.

His shoulders are squared, muscles constricted beneath a gray Camp Calloway tee. He hasn’t said why we need to leave for the gym. Just that “he’d explain in the car”—and seeing as how he’s going all Wolf Scout on me, it likely has to be for his brother. He’d been talking to him for a while upstairs.

I try not to question his change of heart in case he rescinds the offer, but I am curious what got to him. Finger hooked through a keyring, I spin the keys on my way to the driver’s side of the black, red-striped Audi.

Once we’re in the car and we shut our doors, Maximoff immediately asks, “You still feel okay?”

After the lunch yesterday, my bad mood, and the food poisoning, it’s like doing a one-eighty. I feel more myself.

“Much better,” I tell him and check on our son behind us. He’s babbling to himself and kicking his little feet. I face forward and turn on the car. “Just wondering why we’re going backwards. Didn’t predict that we’d be making another gym pit stop today.” I slip aviators over my eyes.

“This shouldn’t take that long. Like an hour tops.” He glances at texts on his phone. “I know we’re supposed to meet Oscar and Donnelly for dinner later.”

“We have plenty of time for detours. We can even grab Arkham before Woody’s.” Our puppy needs to be let out, and Woody’s is mostly an outdoor restaurant and dog-friendly.

“Sounds good.” He tries to loosen his stiff neck. “You’re okay with this gym detour then?”

I give him a look like he face-planted and hit his head. “I’m your bodyguard. I’ve been taking detours with you for how many years?”

“Too many.”

“More like two years.”

“Two years too many,” he corrects. “I just know you’re attached to me and what I do every day, and I want you to have a say, man.”

“In what we do?” I wish I could follow the tracks of his mind because his brain seems to be spinning through a lot.

“Yeah,” Maximoff says and licks his lips. “Even though I do really need to go to the gym. Like yesterday.” He’s antsy about getting there quickly.

I tilt my head at my husband. “Changes in direction are basically my thing. I want to go wherever you need to go, and this isn’t a problem for me, wolf scout.”

He nods a few times, and I must be taking too long to leave because he says, “You want me to drive?” He’s about to open his door.

“No, I do not,” I say quickly and extend my arm across his firm chest.

He spends an extra second staring at the ink along my bicep, and the warmth of Maximoff against me sends a signal to my cock. I start to smile. He groans out more in frustration. “You need to stop touching me, Farrow.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s making me want to”—his forest-green eyes flash to our son in the backseat before he whispers—“fuck you.” Heat blankets me, but he releases his grip on the door handle the same time I retract my arm from him.

While it’d be amusing and hot to play into that comment, it might hold up our journey to the gym, and I need to get on the road before Maximoff decides to steal my seat. I start the car and pull out of the driveway.

“Did your brother request me behind the wheel again?” I tease with a smile.

Maximoff says nothing, but he blinks too hard. Like he’s imagining himself “teleporting” away from me.

“Shit,” I say. “He did?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s a yes.” I’m a little bit surprised Maximoff even agreed to his brother’s wish, considering Xander isn’t here. “Did everything go okay upstairs between you two?”

He rolls out his shoulders. “Yeah, we’re fine. He just lost his phone. I think it might be at the gym.” He rehashes how stressed his brother seemed, and I take that as another cue to hurry.

Xander lost his phone. Likely at the gym, where Donnelly had been on-duty. I could worry about my friend right now, but it wouldn’t help him in this moment. So as best I can, I let go of the amassing concern.

When I’m on the road, driving ten-over the limit and popping a piece of gum in my mouth, I tell my husband, “We’ll get there. Relax.”

“I’m the epitome of relaxed,” he refutes, his muscles flexed like a soldier prepared for war. He’s been calling his brother’s phone. No one has picked up yet.

“More like the antithesis of relaxed.” We both go quiet while paparazzi try to cut me off from switching lanes. “Shit.”

He checks behind me. “He’s speeding up on your left.”

I chew harder on my gum. “I can’t make that turn unless we want to play bumper cars. Fucking hell.” I slam on the brakes as a silver sedan swerves in front of me, and my pulse jackhammers for a split-second. I see the camera in the back windshield. “This fucker is going to try to hit us again.”

Maximoff is watching the dark blue SUV on my left.

In front of me, the silver sedan accelerates and then brake-checks me, hitting his brakes in a sudden second. I’m forced to slam on mine.

Our Audi jerks us, but I’m not riding his ass so we avoid touching his bumper. I’m waiting for the next right turn. The left lane is still blocked by paparazzi in the SUV. It’s a two-lane road in Center City, and I’m concerned another car is going to rear-end us.

Maximoff glares out at the paparazzi vehicles, and his arm is instinctively stretched to the back seat, towards our son. “I can’t stand when they fucking do this. They could cause a pile-up.”

“That’s the point. They want to cause an accident.”

All so we’re forced to pull over, park, and they’ll have extra money-shots of a pissed off Maximoff Hale and his bodyguard husband. Hell, if they’re lucky, they might even get shots of me restraining Maximoff. Those seem to sell well.

I hate lining the pockets of these fuckers.

“You’d think they’d stop knowing a baby is in the fucking car,” Maximoff growls, his daggered eyes on the sedan, then the SUV.

“We’ll be out of it in a minute,” I say easily.

It takes less than that. Once the right turn is in view, I make it, and I lose the silver sedan. The SUV on our left has no trouble following us, but after a few more last-second turns, I lose that tail too. Only bad thing, I went in the opposite direction of Studio 9, and it’ll take longer to reach the gym.

Maximoff zeroes in on the mic cord lying on my shoulder, earpiece out of my ear. “You think you can radio any security who might already be there? They could look for his phone.”

I hesitate. “I could, but I’m not loving the idea of blasting this over comms.”

“Why not?”

“Xander lost his phone. Donnelly is his bodyguard. That’s going to be on him—”

“No,” Maximoff says firmly.

When we were on the tour bus, I remember Maximoff tearing Ian Wreath apart for the same mistake with Tom, but he’s giving Donnelly a pass because he knows him. Because he’s my friend. Because that phone hasn’t been found by a stranger yet. And because Donnelly has done one of the greatest kindnesses for us: helping us adopt our son.

Maximoff shakes his head once. “It’s not his fault that my brother forgot his phone.”

“I love that you care about security, but we know what we signed up for.”

He makes a face. “My bad, I totally forgot the part where you signed up to babysit our cellphones.”

I let out a short laugh. “Whether you like it or not, ensuring our clients have their cellphones is a basic bodyguard task. Confirm the client has their belongings. Safeguard their shit, basically.” With one hand on the wheel, I glance over at him. “Your phone is like an appendage. Too personal to leave behind. And I’ve never seen Donnelly make this mistake with anyone. The fact that he’s making it now is disconcerting.”

Maximoff is quiet. “You think it has to do with the adoption?”

“Yeah. I think whatever he’s doing for Scottie is weighing on him in some capacity.”

What’d you do for us, Donnelly?

What’d you fucking do?

I stare out at the road. Alert and aware of our surroundings, but concern ignites like a lit flare. Red and blazing in my chest. The SOS isn’t in the sky. It’s just contained and dying inside me. Because I don’t know how to help my friend.

He doesn’t want my help.

I grind my teeth, my gaze narrowed at the traffic. We come to a red light, and I wait, my knee propped against the steering wheel to free my hands. “You okay if I don’t use comms?” I ask Maximoff.

“Yeah,” he says strongly. “I don’t want you to.”

Okay. I keep the mic cord dangling on my neck.

He scrapes a hand through his thick brown hair. “Can I ask you something? I know we didn’t talk in depth about it yesterday since you didn’t feel well, but I’ve just been thinking about it.”

I recall yesterday too easily. I did end up sharing almost everything from the lunch with Maximoff. The only thing I left out was the Vada Abbey shit since it’s not important, but he’s right—we didn’t discuss most of it.

So I crack a good guess about what he’s referring to. “It’s about my dad?”

“Yeah.”

I exhale a deeper breath, not excited about this.

“If you don’t want to—”

“You can ask me anything. You’re my husband, Maximoff.” I catch a glimpse of his smile in my peripheral, and I grin over at him.

“Shut up,” he snaps roughly.

My smile stretches while chewing gum. “How many times are you going to cum when I call you my husband?”

“Zero times. Never happened. Will never happen. Only in my nightmares.”

I suck in a breath. “Sounds like your fantasies.”

“Farrow.”

“Okay, okay,” I roll my eyes, knowing he’s trying to be serious. I drum the wheel with a couple fingers. “Go ahead.” I motion him with those fingers. “Ask me about the old man.”

“I get that my dad wants to confront him, but what about you? Is there any part of you that wants to do the same thing?”

“Confront my father about missing our wedding?”

“Yeah.”

The light turns green, and I inch forward, traffic congested. “It won’t help our relationship. Or lack thereof.”

“Maybe it would.”

I can’t see that happy ending. “It’ll create hurt feelings, and we can’t go back and change the past, so what’s the point?”

“Maybe he needs to know you care, man.”

That blows me back for a second. I don’t care, I want to reply, but Maximoff knows I do. If I didn’t care, it wouldn’t have been that hard to convince myself that I felt nothing when he declined the invite.

I want to feel nothing.

I want to not care about what he does.

But I haven’t really contemplated the scenario where my father already believes I don’t care—where he thinks nothing he does could possibly hurt me.

It takes a second to unearth the memory of the phone call after the RSVP. I remember Maximoff chewing him out. I remember me…letting him off the hook.

Extremely fucking easily.

I tilt my head back and forth. “Expressing my feelings after-the-fact could go in either direction. Either he apologizes or he doubles-down and blames me somehow, and honestly, it might not be worth it.”

“I know why it’d be hard to have heart-to-hearts with him,” Maximoff says. “Trust me, I got that sense before the wedding. But I just figured, it might help you move on, if anything.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say quietly.

It’s not off the table, but I’m not exactly jumping at the first opportunity to bear my soul to him. Our argument where I told him I was quitting medicine was a headache, and I just foresee another round of that.

“Da-da!” Ripley calls from the backseat.

Maximoff rotates. “You okay, Rip?”

“Da-da!” He sounds distraught.

I can’t look behind me. I’m driving closer to Studio 9, and paparazzi are on foot and chasing after our car. “What’s wrong?” I ask Maximoff as he unbuckles.

“He dropped his pirate parrot.”

“Just wait.” I push him against the seat, so he doesn’t dive into the back like it’s a seven-foot pool. “We’re almost there. We’ll get it when I park.”

“Christ.” He sinks back into the front seat, his tough gaze on the paparazzi snapping photos of our Audi and the fans hoisting posters outside Studio 9. Not all have our names written on them. “They’re still here.”

“Yeah.”

Xander’s fans never left.

Thanks so much for reading this month's extra bonus scene! We hope you enjoyed reading Part Two to the missing phone saga. It's been a blast going back during this timeline and catching up with the characters. There will be a Part 3 to this scene coming next month, and it'll take place during Chapter 21!

And there's even more goodies right around the corner in February! All the content will be back next month. Expect bonuses and podcasts and some special edition Like Us Series cover reveals *tosses confetti*

xoxo Krista & Becca

“Xander's Missing Phone - Part Two," Copyright © 2023 by K.B. Ritchie