Page 97 of Vows of Ruin

“I’m not glaring.” I say looking away too quickly.

He glances up, one brow raised. “You are. That’s the same look you give me right before you take the last cup of coffee.”

A reluctant smile tugs at my mouth. “Maybe I just take what I want.”

He smirks. “Some people would call that theft.”

I shrug. “Semantics.”

His mouth curves, but his eyes stay on me a second longer. He sets his tablet down. “Come on.”

I blink. “What?”

He stands and holds out his hand. “Kitchen.”

“Max—”

“Kitchen,” he repeats, softer this time. “Before you burn a hole through the wall with your eyes.”

I stare at his hand for half a second, then take it. His fingers close around mine, warm and steady, and he leads me out of the war room without asking anyone for permission. No one says a word. Margot doesn’t even look up from the screen, but I know she notices by the smile that creeps across her face.

The kitchen is quieter. Warmer. Less full of blinking screens and bad possibilities. Max lets go of my hand only long enough to move around the island. He opens the freezer, pulls out the ice cream, then grabs milk, chocolate syrup, and two glasses from the cabinet.

I lean against the counter, arms crossed. “You’re making milkshakes, now?”

“You’re spiraling.”

“I am not.”

He gives me that look that says he knows when I’m full of shit.

I narrow my eyes. “I’m strategically concerned.”

“Aw, that’s adorable.” He says with a chuckle.

“I could stab you, you know.”

“You could," He says, dropping ice cream into the blender. “But then who would make you a milkshake?”

I press my lips together, trying not to smile. The blender kicks on, loud enough to fill the room, and for a few seconds I don’t have to think. Not about Liam. Not about Torque. Not about Noah. Not about Sebastian pulling at old threads and trying to turn them into nooses. Max pours the milkshakes into two glasses and slides one across the island to me.

I take it, eyeing him. “You know this doesn’t fix anything.”

“Nope,” he says. “But it gives your hands something to do besides threaten me and the furniture.”

I take a sip. Chocolate. Thick. Sweet. Familiar. My chest aches a little.

Max watches me over the rim of his own glass. “There’s my Sparrow.”

I look away, feeling my cheeks blush. “I’ve been right here.”

“No,” he says quietly. “You’ve been halfway out the door since Liam left.”

That lands. I stare into the milkshake, watching a line of chocolate slide down the inside of the glass. “Three hours Max.” I say.

“I know.”

“I promised him we wouldn’t move before then.”