Page 62 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
The three dots appeared and pulsed for an eternity.
I wouldn’t be so sure
what?
Maxwell cleared his throat, making me jump, and for some reason, I frantically jabbed at my phone screen, turning it off.
“So. It’s not long now,” Maxwell said, his voice cutting through the silence. “You want to run me through some of who is likely to be there when we arrive? Things I should know, et cetera?”
“Yeah, of course,” I replied, shoving my phone into my pocket.
It made sense that he’d want to know all about them, considering he was about to literally walk into the den of vipers with me in order to find Dev. The only issue was, I hated talking about my family. Like, properly hated it. The kind of hate that sits in your stomach like a rock and makes your throat close up.
Now I was an hour away from seeing them all again after all these years. The reality of it hit me like a punch to the chest, winding me. Suddenly, the car felt too small, the air too thin. My lungs couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen, and my vision started to blur at the edges as nausea seeped through me.
My hands began to shake as I leaned forward to grip the dashboard, the mountains outside the window spinning sickeningly.
“Rory? What’s wrong?” Maxwell’s voice seemed to come from very far away.
“I—” My throat closed over, the words trapped like prisoners behind bars. My chest felt like it was being crushed by an invisible weight, heart hammering so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
The car lurched suddenly, tyres crunching on gravel as Maxwell yanked the wheel to the left. We bumped and jolted down into a shallow ditch at the side of the road before the engine cut off.
“Take a deep breath,” Maxwell said, his voice firm but gentle.
I hadn’t even realised I wasn’t breathing. The edges of my vision had started to darken. I dragged in a shaky inhale, the air burning my lungs like I’d swallowed fire.
I wanted to apologise, to make some joke about how pathetic I was being, but I didn’t trust my voice. My mouth opened and closed uselessly, like a fish tossed onto dry land.
Maxwell’s hand reached out, hovering uncertainly around my thigh without touching it. The awkward hesitation was like a knife to my gut. Christ, now he couldn’t even bear to fucking touch—
His warm palm landed on my thigh, fingers curling around the muscle with surprising strength. The heat of his hand seeped through my jeans, anchoring me back to reality. His grip tightened, thumb pressing into the side of my leg in small, circular motions. It wasn’t tentative or disgusted—it was solid, present, real.
And bloody hell, that hand was so close to where I’d imagined it this morning. My body flushed hot with the memory once again—how I’d stroked myself thinking of those long fingers wrapped around me instead, how I’d bitten my lip to keep from moaning his name when I came. The ghost of that bliss rippled through me before I quickly squashed it down.
“Are you okay?” Maxwell asked softly.
My chest loosened slightly. I focused on his warm, steady hand, and with each breath, the roaring in my ears quieted a little more.
“Just… give me a minute,” I managed, leaning back against the headrest and closing my eyes.
The car fell silent except for the sound of our breathing, which somehow had synchronized without either of us noticing.In, out. In, out.The weight of his palm against my leg remained constant, his thumb occasionally making small, reassuring circles.
“We don’t have to do this, you know. We can still turn back.”
I shook my head, forcing myself to take another deep breath. “No. We’re not turning back now. Not after you’ve driven us all the way up here. Besides, I already told my uncle we’d be there. He’s… actually the one I’m looking forward to seeing. Out of all of them. But I’m sorry. I know you didn’t sign up for me to be having constant panic attacks the whole week,” I tried to joke, peeling my eyes open.
Maxwell’s expression softened, the early afternoon light catching in his eyes, turning them the warm amber of whisky in a crystal glass. “Considering what you’re about to face, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t anxious. Though it’ll all be okay, Rory. We can leave at any time if it gets too much. But I’ll be there to help you through it.”
I shot Maxwell a look at the words. Suspiciously nice words. Oh god, had I managed to make him feelsorryfor me?Great work, Rory. He already thought you were a loser after you got drunk and cried about Dev, and now he thinks you’re pathetic.
At my expression, he quickly removed his hand from my thigh, sitting up straighter in his seat. The loss of his touch was immediate, like stepping from warm sunshine into shadow.
“As your colleague, of course,” he added stiffly.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Look, you only have an hour to perfect your doting boyfriend act, Maxwell,” I said, the familiar rhythm of our banter further helping to ground me.
“Don’t remind me,” he muttered.
