Page 323 of Blood & Betrayals

“Fuck,” I groan as he moves my foot a little, and then I start to sob again. Fuck, I hate this version of myself, and I hate that I obviously feel comfortable sobbing in front of dickbag Max. But here we are.

“I miss you,” I whisper, not looking at him.

Max’s head snaps up. “You’re the one who’s been avoiding me.”

I meet his gaze. “You saw the ring and flipped out, and then Alice…” I choke down a sob.

Max looks back down at my ankle. “I’m sorry about Alice. I’m not good at dealing with this shit. And the ring thing. I just… needed a moment to process.”

I frown, watching him as he starts to wrap my ankle. “You know it’s not you that I’m marrying, right? No need to go all commitment-phobe on me.”

“Just didn’t think marriage was your thing,” I say with a shrug.

“Why does it matter to you? I know you have this thing with Con?—”

“I just thought you and I were alike. Guess I was wrong.”

His words remind me of the fight I had with the stranger on Connor’s porch. I opened up to him and he dismissed me. That’s how Max is feeling.

I look back down at my ankle. “We are alike,” I say, eventually.

Max scoffs. “Yeah? You’re not going to turn into Suzy Homemaker? Wait for Connor to come home from his Legion with dinner ready and slippers in hand? Barefoot and pregnant.”

“No,” I say without an ounce of hesitation. “Look, Max, marriage was never something I envisioned for myself, but neither was someone like Connor. Honestly, before I started dating Connor, my type was definitely someone more like you. You know, a complete asshole.”

Max snorts, focusing on my ankle. “You into one-night stands?”

“It used to be all I ever did. One-night stands or no-strings situations, and all with asshole guys I knew were bad for me. But it didn’t matter. I never stuck around long enough for them to harm me.”

Not after Torin.

Max finishes wrapping my ankle. “You know, there’s an old saying about fate,” Max starts. “Fate doesn’t waste its bullets.”Max’s lips twitch. “You sure fate wants you as Connor’s dutiful wife?”

“I love Connor,” I reply.

“So that’s a no then,” Max replies, and I bristle. Just when I think Max and I are making some progress and finding some common ground, he has to go and blow it.

“Whatever, Max,” I say with weary snarkiness.

He growls and turns to walk away, but I grab his arm. His muscles are tight with tension, but he stops and snarls, “What do you want from me?”

“I miss you, Max,” I say. I want him as a friend, and some instinct is begging me to fight for that relationship.

“You can find someone else to fight with,” Max growls.

I tug his arm and pull him closer. “Maxxy…”

“What?” he grumbles, but he softens slightly at the nickname.

I pull his arm again, tugging him closer.

“Summer, you’re not playing fair.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, tugging his arm again.

“I’m trying to be mad at you,” he grumbles, but his lips twitch.

“We’re not frenemies,” I say, and Max frowns. “We’re friends, and I need you, Max. Whether or not I like it.”

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