The Masked Truth(42)

“You know,” Aaron says, “just when I think you’re not an *, you go and prove me wrong.”

“I could say the same about you, but I won’t.”

“You just did. I need backup, Maximus—”

“Really rather you didn’t call me that.”

“Sorry, Maximus.”

“Seriously?” Brienne says, beating me to it. “This isn’t the schoolyard, boys. If you two can’t handle it, Riley and I will.”

“I’m the one who knows where I left the gun,” Aaron says. “I’m asking Max to help because I need backup.”

“And only a guy can do it?” Brienne says.

“I’m not arguing about going,” Max says. “It’s just …” A quick glance at me. “Riley and I work better together. If you can tell us where the gun is, we’ll go get it. Or you and Brienne can go. I would just rather …”

He trails off, and I know he’s not keen to pair up with Aaron. I’m struggling for an excuse, a way to back him up, because the simple truth is that I don’t want to be separated. Max is the one I trust. More than that, he’s the one I care about. I’ll do everything in my power to protect Brienne and Aaron, but Max … Max is different. The thought of him heading out there alone sets my heart pounding, but all I can think of to say is, “I’m fine with going. I’m the one who can unjam the gun.” I hope.

“I think you need a break,” Aaron says to me, and I’m about to argue, hotly, when his gaze slides to Brienne, and I understand what he’s really saying. Of the four of us, she’s still the most likely to crack, the one not completely convinced we can’t go to Gray, say, “I give up,” and survive. Aaron doesn’t need Max with him so much as he needs me to keep Brienne calm and steady.

I glance at Max. He’s figured it out, and he’s not happy about it, not at all—his blue eyes darkening, his lips tight—but when I say, “All right,” he only shoves his hands in his pockets and heads for the door.

I jog after him, and we pass through the interior door, Aaron hanging back to give us a moment. Max hasn’t realized I’m behind him yet, and he gets three steps into the other room before wheeling and smacking into me.

He jumps back fast.

“Sorry,” I say. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

“And I was just heading back to apologize for storming off in a huff.”

“It didn’t seem all that huffy,” I say.

I offer a smile, but his return one is strained, his face still tight, and when I lay my hand on his arm, it’s trembling. I squeeze it.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “And don’t say, ‘right as rain.’ ”

His lips twitch. “Not right as rain. Is that better?” He sobers. “I’m all right. I’d just rather not be separated.”

“Are you feeling okay? Any symptoms? You seem okay.”

“I am. Just being shirty.”

“Whatever that means.”

“Moody. Bad-tempered. A tad bratty too. I’m comfortable with you. I want to stay with you.”

“Ditto,” I say, and I lean against him, and he puts his arm around me, just a one-armed squeeze as I lay my head against his shoulder. Then the door opens, and I step back as Aaron comes out.

“Be quick,” I whisper to Max. “No side trips looking for escape hatches. We’ll do that once we have the gun.”

He smiles, and it’s a real one now. He squeezes my elbow and then takes off with Aaron.





CHAPTER 17


“How long have you and Max been together?” Brienne asks, and I look back to see her peeking through the door.

“In therapy? A month.”

“I mean together.” When I start to protest, she lifts her hands. “It’s probably against the rules, I get that. You’ve been keeping it a secret so you don’t get in trouble.”

“No, we’re not—”

“That’s why he was slow to say you should leave first. He was afraid if he jumped in too fast, they’d realize you guys were a couple. That’s also why he grabbed you when he took off.”

I shake my head. “We’re not a couple. Really. We have two sessions a week together, and we’ve barely exchanged a dozen sentences. But when something like this happens …” I shrug. “You latch on to what you know. Familiar faces.”

“He didn’t want to leave you.”

“And I didn’t want him to leave. Aaron doesn’t like him and …”

“Aaron’s fine. He’s not a nice guy pretending to be a prick, but he’s a decent guy dealing with a lot of crap and maybe, yes, a little bit of a prick.”

“We all are,” I say. “Under the right circumstances.”

She gives a soft laugh. “Something tells me you’re the exception, Riley.”

“No. I can be a total bitch. Once, I called a girl at school a really rude name, and she barely even deserved it.”

She looks to see if I’m serious, and when I smile, she shakes her head. “I bet that really is the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

“No,” I say softly. “I’ve made mistakes.”