Marianna tips her mug back, drinking a large gulp of her tea before she stands and grabs my own mostly-empty mug from in front of me.
“I still think we should just kill him,” she says with a shrug before retreating into the kitchen.
Vanessa and Sean share a look before they offer empathetic smiles. Sean stands and thumps my shoulder with his palm. “Good luck, brother.”
When I look back, she’s standing in the doorway with a canvas bag over her shoulder. I’m equal parts relieved and apprehensive. More relieved that she wants to come back with me at all.
“Let’s go home,” she says.
Home.
I waste no time following behind her.
21
MARY
My attempts togo straight to bed when we get home are stymied by Maxim leaning against the bathroom door frame as I finish my skincare routine (it’s like two steps, but it’s a routine nonetheless).
“I want to talk about yesterday,” Maxim says. Of course he does. He’s an adult, and adultstalk about their feelings and disagreements. Gag.
He’s wearing the gray long sleeve that’s so soft and light, it must be a decade old.
“If I can wear that, I will talk,” I bargain. His lips quirk in that surprised lilt I’m growing accustomed to seeing. He stands to his full height and pulls his shirt up over his head in that slutty way that men do, then tosses it to me. He put it on less than twenty minutes ago and it already smells like him.
And good Lord, naked Maxim torso. He’s broad and dense, undeniably muscular without being chiseled. Like, he works out six days a week minimum, but also still really likes pasta. A big tattoo of a fully-bloomed rose bush covers his ribs next to a traditional dagger and other sweeping designs. I want to study them closely, but his alarmingly hot body is distracting me frombeing mad at him. Instead, I put on the shirt, unclasp my bra, and pull it from the sleeve before tossing it in a hamper.
Much cozier.
“Talk.” I brush past him into the room, careful not to touch his bare chest as I do.
“I overstepped,” Maxim says. “I was unfair when you were doing what had to be done.”
He clicks on my bedside lamp and unfolds the soft blanket I like from the bottom of the bed. I rub lotion on my legs for something to do that isn’t looking at him.
“I apologize,” he tacks on. With the bedding turned down for me, he retreats into the closet. I glance up as he puts on a new shirt, effectively covering the distraction that is all ofthat.
I sigh and rub my forehead. “Thank you.”
I can sense that this little conversation is not yet over, so I sit on the side of the bed and wait for him to go on. Maxim walks toward me and I think he’ll sit next to me on the edge of the mattress, but instead, he crouches down in front of me, putting his eyes a few inches below mine for once.
He pulls my socks off and replaces them with the softer ones I always end up kicking off halfway through the night. I let him.
“I want to understand you better,” he admits.
“Why?” I ask.
“I—” Maxim cuts off and sits back on his heels. “It will help me protect you better if I can understand what you do and why you do it. Let me.”
I take a big breath, processing the request. He has a point; it’s easier to keep track of someone you know. I suppose this isn’t so different from me asking to share a room, I was the one who said we should probablyknoweach other. I just didn’t think that meant unpacking all of our old baggage.
But we’ve already come this far; he already knows how I take my tea in the morning, the socks I like to sleep in, my deepest fears.
As he said so eloquently before tackling me earlier,fuck it.
“My dad used to bring me around with him,” I start. “I was a really nervous kid, but I liked being with him. I had these nightmares a lot, so um, I didn’t want to sleep. I was always trying to sneak out of my room and find my parents, get them to play another game with me, watch another movie. It worked, sometimes.
“There was one night, though, I had a nightmare. Just the usual horrifying shit my little brain came up with, so I went to see if my dad was awake in his study and I heard noise coming from the garage.” I chew on my lower lip, remembering. It was so long ago, almost twenty years, but I can still picture it, the fluorescent garage lights, the way I was surprised blood was in factthatred. “He was there with my uncle, Leo’s dad, and they were. . .dealing with someone.” I raise my eyebrows at the euphemism and Maxim winces.
