Page 157 of Lovers Like Us
I said:if you’re harassing Maximoff in the belief I’ll return to medicine, tell me now. We can talk about it.It took me an hour just constructing that text. Because my first draft saidfuckyou.
He hasn’t repliedyet.
I pocket my phone, and Maximoff slows next tome.
Wheat brushes our arms on either side of us. I hold his gaze for a long beat. Like me, he’s not afraid of the fog or the dark. I wouldn’t care if he were. But there’s something extremely fucking sexy about this sharedfearlessness.
I begin to smile, and I increase my pace. Seeing if he’ll keep up. His lengthy stride instantly matches mine, and soon, we’ve added plenty of distance between the others andus.
His forest-greens flit to the Philadelphia Eagles hoodie I’m wearing. Shit, I love being his first. Even for the simple, little things. He’s been basically eye-fucking me for the past hour, but more sensual than a rough, quickfuck.
If eyes could make love, his eyes would be making love tome.
Maximoff catches sight of my growing smile, and he rakes a hand through his thick hair. “I don’t know why the fuck you’resmiling.”
“Sure you don’t.” I tilt my head at him, my gaze descending his build. “It smells likeyou.”
Maximoff rubs his mouth, then jaw, trying to hide a smile. “Fantastic, I’massuming.”
“Settle down, wolf scout. There’s not a merit badge for smellinggood.”
He almost laughs. “You’re admitting I smell good?” He touches his heart. “It’s almost likeyou’reobsessed withme.”
I nod a couple times. “Man, it’s cute how badly you want the tables toturn.”
“They have,” hecombats.
I swing my head from side-to-side, considering for a half second, about to answer but my phone buzzes. A newtext.
Icheck.
Call me tomorrow.–Dad
Curt, to the point. And also vague as shit. I flash the message toMaximoff.
His face is stoic. “Calling him may not help. I feel like you shouldn’t reach out unless it’s about you and him, not thestalker.”
I shake my head. “There is no me and him. There hasn’t been for over three years.” To protect Maximoff, I’d call my father, but I also don’t want to give him theadvantage.
I message him:you can talk to me overtext.
Just as I send it, the wheat field ends, and we kick up dirt as we walk forward. I change my mind: this isn’t a town. It’s three shingled buildings, two of which look closed. Light flickers in the windows ofone.
All people vacated for thenight.
I whistle, and the wind carries thesound.
Maximoff gives me a look to follow him. He’s on a mission, and I’m not leaving his side. I sense where he’s headed in aninstant.
Signs swing on each building: Lucille’s Drugstore, Antiques & Brass, and Savory Eatery with an additional sign that reads,fortunetellerinside!
Guess which is the only oneopen.
Maximoff climbs the wooden slatted stairs to the restaurant. Blue paint peels off the old door. I catch his bicep as he reaches for the copperknob.
“You’re not going in first.” I’m not trying to one-up him. He can lead the pack, but I’m still on-duty. And this is still an unsecuredlocation.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” he retorts. “Whoever’s inside this restaurant has probably never heard of Loren Hale, let alone hisson.”
