Page 6 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

I swallow hard. “Then why?”

His brow furrows, annoyed by the question. “Because you’ve been distant.”

I blink. “Distant?”

“Always tired. Always stressed. Always bringing work home.” He gestures vaguely, like the details don’t matter. “You don’t prioritize us.”

Burning hot fury climbs up my throat.

“I just got fired today,” I snap.

Max pauses.

For one second, he looks thrown.

“What?” he says.

The word feels insulting. Now he’s interested.

“I got fired,” I repeat, louder. “Because rumors got spread about me. About my conduct. About me acting inappropriately. I walked out with my things in a box like I’m some kind of…” My voice breaks, anger crumbling into pain. “Like I’m disposable.”

Max’s face shifts again, and then he does the thing he always does. He finds the angle that benefits him.

“You should’ve told me,” he says, sharp.

I laugh. “I am telling you.”

I look down at the floor, at my scattered things. At the wooden fox near his foot.

I crouch and start picking everything up.

Max watches, confused. “What are you doing?”

I don’t answer.

I just keep picking up the pieces of my life off the carpet.

Behind him, the girl fumbles with her bra, her eyes darting between us, waiting for someone to tell her what role she’s supposed to play now.

Max turns his head. “Hey⁠—”

“I’m leaving,” she snaps back. “I can’t be doing with this.”

Max scoffs. “What, now you’re⁠—”

“I’m not staying here to be screamed at like I’m the villain in your little domestic drama.”

My stomach twists at domestic drama, as if this is entertainment.

Like I’m not bleeding.

She doesn’t look at me again. Just a quick flick of her eyes to the spilled box on the floor, clocking what she stepped into. Then she grabs her purse off the nightstand and bolts for the hall.

“Wait,” Max calls, already irritated. “Seriously⁠—”

The front door slams hard enough that something in the kitchen rattles.

Silence drops after it.