“Well,” I say finally. “If you’ve got something to say, Voss, then say it.”
Damian’s eyes meet mine, and he nods, like all he was waiting for was the invitation. He turns to Max.
“We never got to talk about what happened that last night we were all together.” He’s talking about the night he realized I’d been with Max. The night he lost it and we came to blows. The night she was taken.
Max nods, and then reaches a hand out for his knee. The touch should bother me, but it doesn’t. I see that she’s reassuring him, that he needs it, and somehow I feel grateful.
“I never meant to hurt you,” she says, heartfelt and sincere. “I wasn’t in my right mind.” She looks up at me. “I don’t think either of us were.”
But I fucking was. Maybe my judgment was shot, but wanting her had already gotten its hooks in me.
Damian blows out a rough breath. “I know…if I’d known what was coming that night, I never would’ve—” He breaks off,shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes, and looks at me. “Sometimes Ryder and I have…shit. Is that fair to say, boss?”
I twist my lips—almost a smile. To be honest, I have to admire him for saying it.
We all get along. Always have. It’s what made Hellbent work. But Damian and I are the most alike. Wyatt and Jake run cooler. Damian and I run hot. And Damian has authority issues. It was right there on his record. We’ve butted heads more than once.
I nod, holding his gaze. “Yes,” I say. “That’s fair to say.”
He turns back to Max. “We never named what we had, you, me and Jake. Never set rules. But I hated that Ryder got to have you because it felt like he was going to take you away from us.”
Max squeezes his knee, compassion all over her face. No one says a thing.
“And then you were taken anyway,” he continues. “We threw ourselves into finding you but we never once talked about our feelings. Still don’t.”
He looks to me and Jake and I want to plant my face in my hands at the realization that he doesn’t know Max has also been with Wyatt.
“And you’re still sleeping with Ryder, as we all know—” he continues, but Wyatt lifts a hand.
“Let’s take a step back here, Damian. This isn’t about calling Max out. What is it that you’re trying to say?”
“That three of us are in love with the same woman,” he says in exasperation, throwing up his hands. “And we’re all living together and no one’s saying a fucking thing about it.”
Wyatt and Max exchange a look, an intimate one, the kind of speaking-without-words look that established couples can share, and it guts me.
“What?” asks Damian, sensing something. His eyes flick between them.
Color rises on Max’s cheeks.
“It’s—” Wyatt starts. “It’s complicated.” His gaze drops to his feet. At least he has the decency to look ashamed.
“Well, shit,” says Damian, looking floored. Jake gives a low whistle.
Max puts her other hand on Wyatt’s knee, either to comfort him or steady herself. Hard to tell. But I register the touch, her hands on two of them, and the reaction that surges through me isn’t jealousy. It’s that same unwelcome heat.
That low, keening fire.
I drop my eyes, exhaling sharply, irritated at myself.
“I care about all of you,” Max says. “I didn’t expect to. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t choose to. I just…do. And it’s confusing, and wrong, and impossible. And still it somehow feels…” She waves her hand, searching. “Right? Like being here with you is where I’m supposed to be. All of you.”
I can’t speak. My mind is breaking up, parsing her words, evaluating how I feel.
Jake fills the silence. “You’re allowed to feel what you feel.”
Damian lets out a strangled laugh. “So what are we supposed to do, though? Share? What’s the word for a five-person couple? A cinqtuple?”
I find my words quickly at that. “No,” I snap, cutting him off.
