Page 31 of Fanged Temptation

When she failed to speak again, I leaned forward, propping my elbows on the table and asking cautiously, “Do you still speak to your family?”

She set her fork down with a definitive click and folded her arms.

“No.” The single word held a thousand unresolved emotions. A beat passed before she sighed. “I haven’t seen them since I Ieft San Francisco. They probably haven’t forgiven me for running, but we never really got along to begin with.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t live up to their expectations. I still can’t.” Maxine brought her glass to her lips, shrugging between sips. “They want me to be something I’m not.”

I turned her words over in my head, slotting the puzzle pieces into place. I had met her family only once, and it had only been her mother and her brother, but I could see how they wouldn’t have gotten along. Maxine was sunshine, vibrant and lively. Her family was… lifeless. Cold and cruel.

Even so, I had a job to do. “So you don’t think you’ll ever try to make amends?”

Maxine stiffened, her expression shuttering in an instant.

“No,” she said curtly. Then, catching my uneasy stare, she forced a sigh. “It’s complicated.”

My heart pounded.Just one more push. “Would it really be so bad, though? Going back, I mean? Maybe you could work something out.”

Her reaction was immediate – shock, then something that looked a lot like fear clouded her features. “Leah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “if I go back, I’d be trapped for the rest of my life. You have no idea what they’re capable of.”

Guilt speared through my gut, twisting sharply.I have some idea, actually.Keeping my expression neutral was harder than ever as I watched her eyes fill with genuine dread.

“I’m sorry,” I offered quietly, my throat tight. “I didn’t realize it was that serious.”

She let out a mirthless laugh, dropping her gaze to the table. “Serious doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she muttered. After a pause, she spoke again. “Sometimes I still feel like they’re following me around. Breathing down my neck everywhere I go.”

“Is that why you’re hiding out here?” I attempted a light tone, playing it off as a joke, but the memory of her panicked state the other night made my chest clench.

“Partially,” Maxine admitted, her voice lowering as though she feared being overheard. “I’m almost certainsomeoneis… watching me.”

I reached for my glass, taking a sip just to fill the silence. My throat felt tight. My guilt swelled, nearly choking me. Because, in truth, it very wellcouldbe her family following her around. It could bethem, keeping an eye onher, making sureIdid my part.

Maxine swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. “I can’t go back, Leah,” she said, eyes glimmering under the dim lantern light. “I’d lose myself. I’d lose everything I’ve worked for here. I’d be–”

“Trapped,” I whispered, reaching across the table to gently rest my hand atop hers. A part of me wanted to promise I’d never let that happen, but the knife of deception cut both ways and the cruel irony of my actual mission made the words stick in my throat. Instead, I just repeated, “I’m so sorry.”

Maxine looked at me then, a fragile smile ghosting her lips. “You don’t have to apologize. You’ve done so much for me. Letting me crash here, letting me… justbe.” Her voice wavered. “I can’t thank you enough.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. How could I explain the swirl of emotions – my old feelings for her reigniting, the guilt of betraying her trust, the confusion over wanting to protect her but also abiding by a promise that threatened everything she cherished?

It was an impossible situation, and she was looking at me with those big brown eyes that made me want to give her the world.

“Well, you don’t have to go anywhere right now,” I said quietly, and despite my deception, I meant every word. “This is your home too, for as long as you want it.”

A slight breeze hushed gently over the harbor, rustling my hair, and I closed my eyes. “I don’t think I’ve eaten that well since I left my grandfather’s house. I must say, you guys are neck-and-neck in the cook-off.”

Maxine and I had finished stacking plates and tidying up from dinner, and now we sat on the deck, shoulders barely a whisper apart. A steady rhythm of water against the hull filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional cry of a distant gull.

With my chin on my knees and my evening dress hiked up, I cracked one eye open to peek at her. In the darkness, the lantern light softened into a faint glow, illuminating her pensive expression, her button nose.

She exhaled shakily when I tilted my head – a quiet invitation for her to say whatever it was she was bursting to say.

“Leah,” she began, her voice quiet, so quiet I almost lost it to the gentle breeze. Her gaze locked on a distant point across the water. “I wish I could explain everything… but I can’t. At least, not yet.”

She turned to me, eyes shimmering in the faint light. “I – I had my reasons for leaving the way I did.”

My heart thumped hard against my ribs. There was a time, not so long ago, when I might have pressed her for every detail, and demanded an explanation for the hurt she’d caused. But sitting here, I was no longer sure I wanted to force the truth from her. Instead, I craved connection, whatever fragments she could offer.

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