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“A pleasure to meet you,” Kurt said with an easy smile, and it struck Garrett that they were of the same height—and they were probably both used to being the tallest human in a room.
Footsteps drew Garrett’s attention back over his shoulder as Maxwell backed away, pale and shaking. What the hell was happening here? Who was this man? He had Maxwell terrified. Maxwell never—ever—looked anything but in control, and now he looked wild.
Maxwell swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’ll go prepare the clinic to receive the rest of the prisoners. Send me whoever needs help.” Then he turned on his heel and walked away so fast he almost tripped over his feet.
Despite himself, Garrett shot a look toward Sebastian and saw the same confusion and concern in the torvar’s face that he felt in his chest.
Sebastian met his eyes and gave him a quick nod before stepping forward. “Kurt Buck, I believe I’ve heard stories.”
Garrett waited until Kurt had turned toward the rest of the group before chasing after Maxwell.
* * *
He was supposed to be dead.
Maxwell had been so sure he was dead.
Maxwell had mourned, and then celebrated, and then fallen into a guilty depression so deep he thought he’d never pull himself out of it. But he had. He had survived, and he had made a home for himself, and he had been free because Kurt Buck was supposed to be dead.
And now he wasn’t, and he had the goddamn gall to waltz back into Maxwell’s life and—Maxwell slammed the door of his clinic hard enough to shake it in its ramshackle frame and roared wordlessly into the empty room—and touch him.
The gall to kiss him and whisper to him and pretend that they had ever, ever been anything sweet or nice. How fucking dare he?
Maxwell swiped at his mouth, still sore and tingling from Kurt’s—he shuddered to think of it, and his stomach rolled—from Kurt’s kiss. He stumbled to the sink and turned the water to scalding. Once it grew hot enough to hurt, he ducked his head and splashed the water on his face, hissing at the burn. But at least it cleaned him. He scrubbed at his face and then his hands.
He lathered the soap over his skin over and over and rinsed the suds and the feel of that man off him.
He was back.
A sob choked up Maxwell’s throat.
He was back. And he still wanted him. And he had kissed him. In front of everyone.
Maxwell hadn’t felt so small and so weak and so tainted in so long, and he had thought—he had been determined—that he never ever would again.
But the damn feel of him wouldn’t come off! With another wordless yell, Maxwell threw the bar of soap across the room, then watched it fly across the floor and slam into the sheet metal wall with a satisfying crash.
“Maxwell.”
Maxwell spun to see Garrett carefully closing the door behind him with a look of such pure concern across his handsome face that all of Maxwell’s rage fell out of him, leaving him feeling limp and fragile. He dropped his chin to his chest and looked down at his shaking hands, now bright pink from the scrubbing and the heat. What could he even say to Garrett after what he had just seen?
Garrett’s footsteps came closer, his boots stopping in front of Maxwell. Garrett reached around him to turn off the water. Maxwell’s ragged breathing sounded painfully loud in the silent room without the rush from the faucet.
And Garrett just stood there.
Wasn’t he going to…?
Maxwell realized with a start that he was expecting Garrett to hold him. More than expecting it, he was waiting for it. And he wanted it. He desperately, desperately wanted it.
“Garrett.” Maxwell swayed toward him and then stopped himself. With his heart in his throat, he forced his eyes from Garrett’s boots to his face. What if Maxwell didn’t see concern there after all? What if he saw judgment or suspicion?
But he didn’t. As soon as their eyes met, Garrett’s confusion and apprehension broke into relief, and Garrett swept forward and pulled Maxwell into his arms.
“I’ve got you.”
“Garrett.” Maxwell collapsed against Garrett’s chest. He let his legs give out from under him and knew that Garrett wouldn’t let him fall. After a moment, Maxwell wound his arms around Garrett’s waist and pressed his forehead into the center of Garrett’s chest. “He…” Maxwell licked his lips and then cringed when he remembered who had last touched them. “He didn’t have any right.”
“I know.” Garrett tightened his grip on Maxwell, and Maxwell’s eyes stung as Garrett clutched him tighter. “I should have stepped in earlier. I’m so sorry.”
