Page 59 of The Order of Disorder
A corner of his mouth lifts, eyes going soft, but he doesn’t laugh.
“You don’t make this easy,” he says. “I just want to make sure we don’t blur lines that can’t be unblurred.”
“I think it’s a bit too late for that,” I scoff.
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Max,” he says gently. “You’re…God, you’re smart, and funny, and so fucking beautiful it knocks the wind out of me sometimes.”
He shifts, guiding me gently off his hips before rolling onto his side.
“And you’re sexy as hell. Last night was…” He breaks off, exhales slow. “It was incredible. You blew my fucking mind.”
The way he says it should feel good, but there’s a shadow behind the words.
“But,” he continues, “we had too much to drink. I should’ve known better. I’m almost fifty years old. Idoknow better.”
I blink. “I don’t care how old you are.”
“I do,” he says quietly. “Because you’re twenty-two.”
“Twenty-three,” I correct him, remembering it would’ve been my birthday at some point in the summer.
He winces, like that doesn’t make it any better.
“We’re getting out of here soon,” he says quietly. “And you’ve still got a life waiting for you on the other side of this place. You’ve got Jake. And Damian.”
“You think I’m going to go back to them and pretend none of this happened?”
He exhales through his nose. “No. I think you’ll carry it with you. Just like I will.” He reaches up and brushes his thumb along my cheek. “But this place, it distorts everything. Time. Trust. Need. It makes things feel permanent that aren’t. I just…I want you to remember this isn’t the whole story. It’s a chapter. And it ends.”
I start to speak, but he shakes his head gently.
“You won’t be here forever, Max. I won’t let that happen. You’re getting out. I promise you that.” A pause. Then softer: “And I’ll be there. No matter where you land. No matter who you love. I’m not going anywhere. But I want you to have a choice. Not to get stuck with someone too old for you.”
“You think I didn’t make a choice last night?” I counter, disbelief cutting under the surface. “Yeah, I was drunk. But notthatdrunk. You think I never thought about this before? You and me?”
“I think it’s confusing,” he says. “We sleep in the same bed, act like a couple out in the club. But I’m old enough to be your father, honey. Older.”
“I don’t care,” I hiss, low and fierce. “Being with you is the only thing that’s made me feel like I still exist. Not someone’s property. Not someone’s pawn. Just…me. You might be older, but you’renotmy father, Wyatt. And I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
He draws a deep breath. I shift closer, place my hand on his ribcage, watching the tension ripple through him—his shoulders tight, jaw ticking.
“Give me some credit to know what I want,” I say quietly.
“You’re making this harder than it already is,” he murmurs, and I catch a glint of playfulness that wasn’t there a second ago. The first crack in the armor.
“I’m trying to make it harder,” I say, biting back a smile. “Making you hard is my whole end game here.”
That earns a breath of a laugh from him. “You’re relentless.”
My voice dips, serious again. “We’re in hell. But what I feel for you is real. Can’t we just find relief in each other?”
He’s quiet a long moment. Then: “Ryder loved you.”
It hits like a punch to the gut. His name still carries shrapnel. For a second, I can’t speak.
“I loved him,” I say, my voice raw. “I still do. But you’re all connected. Him, Jake, Damian. You. Being with you doesn’t take anything away from him. If anything, it brings me closer to all of you.”
I can’t think about Ryder right now, about the love we both felt for each other. I can’t open up that pain and feel it, but being with Wyatt offers something else. A feeling that runs parallel to that love, and soothes the loss of it. I reach down, dragging my fingers lightly across his stomach, and his muscles jump.
