Page 109 of Wicked Devotion
As I walk up the stairs, I don’t know if I should wish for Max to be there when I open the door or if an empty room would be better for all of us. It’s not my decision to make, because as I open the door, I see that he came back. Lying on the couch, his face turned to the backrest, seemingly asleep, but he’shere.
I go to the bathroom for a quick shower and to brush my teeth, closing the door a little too loud on accident, but Max doesn’t move. I just wish I knew if it’s out of protest or from exhaustion.
“Hey,” I whisper, putting my hand on his shoulder. “I know how uncomfortable the couch is. Just come over.”
His breathing pattern tells me that he is very much awake, but I don’t get a reaction.
“Won’t beg you,” I snarl, lying down on my side of the bed.
When I wake up,Max is gone. I take my time forcing down a breakfast that tastes like shit because I had to prepare it myself and eat it accompanied by Rockwell, who looks like he has aged ten years in the past few days.
Our conversation consists of one-word answers andgrunts, and when I see that Max left my fucking messages on read, I stand up and throw the rest of my disgusting meal into the trash.
Coincidentally, Lily also seems to be busy. She does answer my messages, probably because she knows I wouldn’t hesitate to take the drive to Ruby’s house to show her what she gets for ignoring me. Still, she doesn’t seem especially eager to text me on her own.
Why the fuck am I suddenly desperate for their attention? It’s pathetic.
Iam pathetic, and the thought alone makes me so angry I stalk over to the training grounds, searching for the first useless recruit who looks at me the wrong way.
Rain clouds cover the usually bright blue sky, matching my mood. A rookie running laps sees me a second too late, his shoulder nudging mine, and damn, if that isn’t the sign I was waiting for.
“Have anything to say, Private Shithead? An apology, for starters?
“Sorry,” he mumbles as the first raindrops start to fall.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it.”
The moment I shove the half-baked idiot, Max’s voice rings in my ear. Not the morally correct prick living in my head, but the actual, living, breathing Max that somehow no longer deems it necessary to tell me where he is.
“Stop distracting my damn recruits,” he snarls as he stalks over to me, and some of the other idiots stop to see what’s going on.
“Why are you even here?” I ask.
“I was assigned to oversee corrective training.”
“You could have asked me to join you.”
“Charlie is keeping me company. I’m good.”
I, on the other hand, am not good. The muscles in my jaw clench as I try to keep myself from lashing out.
“We need to talk,” I say, keeping my voice down.
“Later,” Max says as he starts to walk away.
“No. Now.”
My fingers dig into his shoulder, and as Max turns around to face me, his gaze is so icy it feels like it’s freezing my entire being, starting from my hand on his arm right up to my heart.
Rain wets my clothes as I pull him away from the group of recruits, mentally making a list of every single bastard who dares to sneakily look our way.
“What’s your problem? Something is obviously bothering you, and I’m sick of you acting up like this.”
“It’s nothing,” he spits out, trying to pry my fingers off of his arm.
“Fucking talk to me, Max. I don’t get why you’re like this all of a sudden. Nothing has changed. Everything was fine between us just days ago.”
His stoic expression changes into one resembling anger. Hatred, maybe even contempt. Feelings I never wanted to see on his beautiful face.
