Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
MAX
Gwen and I decided to meet at the little twenty-four-seven diner not far from her house around noon.
Her neighborhood wasn’t nearly as fancy as Mr. Marino’s, but all the lawns were well-maintained with tall, mature trees lining the street. It was quaint and cozy in a way the giant shore mansions weren’t.
I groaned when I stepped out of my car into the midday sun. After a few hours of fitful sleep, my body was even more sore than usual after a heat—probably because of the marathon sex with an actual person instead of a heat aid—but that wasn’t what had me ready to climb out of my skin.
I missed Atlas.
Not just like, the feeling of wanting to hear someone’s voice or yearning for their touch. I ached for him, viscerally. It felt like every moment without him pulled my skin away from the muscle and sinew, begging to be re-shaped by the touch of his hands.
Was this how he felt for two whole years? How did he survive it? Why didn’t he come to me sooner?
My omega begged to turn around and drive to wherever he was, but I forced myself to walk into the diner instead. The bell jingled when I entered, and Gwen waved me over to a little booth.
“Hey,” she greeted, far more muted than usual. She looked marginally better than me, but not by much.
“Hey.” I pulled out the menu, looking for something fried and greasy. Hangover food seemed appropriate, given the circumstances. “What’s good here?”
She shrugged. “It’s been a while, but the turkey club is my go-to.”
The waiter came over and took our orders. It wasn’t too busy for the lunch hour, so when she left, the silence between Gwen and me grew tense and charged.
“I hate this,” I said with a sigh.
Her eyes grew watery. “Me too. I’m really sorry, Max.
Really, really sorry. Keeping you in the dark sucked a lot.
I just wasn’t sure what you or Atlas wanted or if it was my place to step in.
But you really are my best friend, and I shouldn’t have lied.
Ask me anything. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you. No more secrets. I promise.”
I believed her. Whether or not it was just because I couldn’t handle losing the only real friend I’d ever had, I couldn’t stay mad.
“Do you actually work for Mr. Marino?” I asked, sipping my water. I really wanted to know how she’d become friends with them in the first place, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask yet, so I might as well start with the basics.
She seemed to sense that, though. “Yeah, I do. But that’s a long story, and it starts well before I worked for them.”
Them? That reminded me of something Atlas had said last night.
I’m your boss. You can’t be fired; I won’t allow it.
Did she work for them both? What did she do for Atlas?
“Our parents ran in the same circles,” Gwen began. “Wealthy. Like, beyond rich. Disgustingly so. The parties these people threw…”
She shook her head and continued. “Anyway. The three of us were dragged to the same galas, charity dinners, and garden whatever-the-fucks for most of our teenage years. I was a stuck-up brat, Saint played the part of dutiful son, and Atlas climbed the walls trying to be anywhere else.”
She chuckled, eyes full of mirth. “One time when we were at some horrible, stuffy party, I said I wanted to go home early because I’d DVR’d the season finale of Gilmore Girls on the TV in my room.
Ten minutes later, the electricity for the whole building went out.
Everyone had to evacuate. Finding our way to the parking lot was a disaster.
And there Atlas stood, cool as a cucumber with his hands in his pockets and tie undone.
I knew immediately he’d done it somehow. ”
I laughed with her, but an unfamiliar burn of longing and jealousy dug at my insides.
I wanted to know that young, restless version of him.
Where was the aquarium he went to with his mom?
Where did he get his first kiss? When did he start…
vigilante’ing? Would he have wanted me, if we met back then?
He doesn’t even really want you, now, that insidious voice whispered.
Well. There was that.
I peered at Gwen. “Were you two ever, you know, involved?”
With a snort, she shook her head. “No. I was more the annoying little sister they couldn’t get rid of.” Her face turned grave. “The three of us always talked about running off into the night to start our lives over somewhere new, but then Saint agreed to an arranged marriage set up by his father.”
I could’ve cut the silence with a knife. “I’ve always wondered about Enzo’s omega parent,” I said quietly.
“No,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Thankfully, that horrid man isn’t Enzo’s dad. But that story is for another day.”
Seriously? How many secrets did this family have?
“Saint’s divorce was nasty. The amount of money that foul man walked away with would make you pass out, but it set a lot of things in motion.
” She took a deep breath. “And I decided I couldn’t do what Saint did.
I couldn’t marry a parent-approved match—one who was alpha enough to make up for the fact I wasn’t a waif of an omega. They never got over that.”
Gwen had always seemed so confident in who she was, but that was clearly still a sore spot. “I’m sorry.”
“So, I ran off,” she continued with a sigh. “With a guy I met at the gym, of all places. He was everything my parents hated and didn’t know who I was, or more importantly, who my parents were, which made him perfect. At least for a time.”
Our food arrived, but I was too focused on her story. “Was he the one you told me about?” I asked quietly.
She nodded. “I fell fast and hard. We were married a few months later. It sounds ridiculous, but I felt so free from being written out of my parents’ will that I didn’t see how constricting my life actually became. Not for a long while. Too long.”
Pushing her food around, she continued, “Atlas was the first to say something. After what happened to their mom…” She shook her head.
“As you know, he’s not the most diplomatic guy.
I told him to fuck off. He didn’t. It pissed Grant off and made everything worse.
When Atlas realized that, he actually listened.
” Her eyes watered. “It was the loneliest time of my life, and that’s saying a whole lot for the only alpha daughter of a mother who would make a Stepford Wife look overly emotional. ”
I wanted to hug her, but she was stiff as a board.
“I hadn’t seen Atlas or Saint in a year and a half,” she whispered.
“But when I showed up on their doorstep with his handprints bruised around my neck, they didn’t even blink.
” She wiped at her face. “They brought me inside and told me their home was mine and I could stay as long as I wanted. They didn’t ask me why I took so long to leave.
They didn’t ask me anything, really, except one question. ”
I was so tense a stiff breeze would’ve snapped me in half. “What?”
Looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, she whispered, “‘Do you want us to take care of this?’ That was it.”
I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “And did they? Take care of it?”
She nodded. In a completely different tone, almost as if she were reciting a well-practiced lie, she said, “Heartbroken that I left him, my husband checked himself into a hotel, got rip-roaring drunk, and threw himself off a twenty-second-story balcony. There were plenty of witnesses.”
Silence stretched. “I lived with Saint for a while after that. He gave me a job as his house manager, mostly because it was stuff I already did.” She shrugged.
“And then I moved into my own place. I spend a lot of my downtime doing research for Atlas,” she eyed me knowingly.
“He pays me for it but says it’s for my time at the clinic.
It’s nothing like what I thought our lives would look like when we were stupid teenagers, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
And I would protect it with everything.”
Wow. I cleared my throat. “I understand.”
And I did. Really. She was just as protective of the life she’d built as I would be if someone threatened it. In her shoes, I wouldn’t have spilled those secrets to me, either.
But that didn’t fix the trust he’d broken, even if I understood why he kept me in the dark.
I had so many questions about the clinic and how involved Gwen was in finding his targets and so much else. But there was one thing that stuck in my mind. Leaning over the table, I asked, “Was that his first… target?” Was that how he became what he is now?
“That’s for him to tell. But I will say…” She also leaned in. “That man would throw himself off a balcony before he ever hurt you.”
Shame bloomed across my cheeks. “I know,” I said, voice scratchy. “I shouldn’t have said that he would. I like who he is. I more than like who he is. I just—” I shook my head, unable to find words for the squirmy rejection and pain still roiling inside me.
She nodded. “I really should’ve told you I knew him sooner. I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t have supported you being with him if I didn’t believe he would be good for you, and you, for him. I love you both, and I hope you can figure this out.”
“It would help to actually talk to me instead of hiding,” I grumbled, pissy all over again. I recognized the man I thought I knew in her story. It wasn’t all just in my head—he existed.
So what the hell happened? Why the secrets? Why reject the bond?
“And you wouldn’t know anything about hiding from confrontation, now, would you?” she asked, a single eyebrow raised.
My mouth popped open. “I have no idea what you mean.”
She chuckled. “I’m starving. No more talking until I’ve had real food.”
We ate our meal in companionable silence. I didn’t want to say anything to Gwen because it’d been her suggestion to eat here, but the food was mid at best. Maybe they had a new cook.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said when our plates were cleared. “Atlas asked me to give you these. They weren’t ready until this morning.”
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out an oblong box and set it on the table.
“This morning?” I asked, my heart fluttering. Gwen had seen him this morning? Was he okay? Did he sleep last night, or was he up, thinking about me the way I’d thought about him? Did he want to talk to me?
Wait, no, I didn’t care about any of that. I wanted him to leave me alone.
Mmhmm.
“He left them on my porch like a feral cat presenting a dead mouse,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I swear he and Jeffrey have the same personality.”
I immediately recognized the gift. Flipping the lid up, my breath caught.
Glasses. But not just any glasses, my glasses. My favorite glasses.
You’ll get your favorite pair back, sweetheart.
With shaking hands, I took off my old pair and slid the new ones on. The prescription was perfect.
Even more confused than ever, I blinked away the sudden emotion that swelled in me. “Have you ever wanted someone so much it made you sick to be without them?” I whispered.
Gwen’s face softened into something sad and wistful. “No. I haven’t.”
I nodded. “Thank you for coming to get me. I’m really sorry for what I said last night. You’re my best friend, too.”
She smiled, but her eyes were still melancholy. “We’ll always come for you, Max. Regardless of whether it works out between you and Atlas, you’re family. You’re not alone.”
That little flare of light reignited deep in my chest. It’s real.
Yes, it was. I had a friend. A real friend. I cupped that tiny flame and held it close, warming my hands. No matter what happened with my job, apartment, or with Atlas, I could at least hold on to that.
I adjusted the new glasses on my face. They fit perfectly.
Just like he’d fit perfectly with me.
“Gotta pee,” I said, clearing my throat and sliding from the booth. I shut myself in the single bathroom stall and pulled out my phone, staring at The Masked Man in my conversation list. I hadn’t even had time to update his contact.
Hi… I began, but deleted it.
I’m sorry for…
I deleted that, too. It was chicken shit to apologize over text. He deserved to hear it in person.
I really miss you and want to see you…
Fuck. Too desperate. The man had a phone, too. He could text me. Why was I the one stressing over the olive branch? He’d literally tried to solicit suppressants while the sheets were still warm.
The bathroom door opened, and someone walked in, their footsteps echoing in the small space. Fuck, they’d be waiting for the stall. I hastily typed something out, thumb hovering over the send button.
I’d like to talk, if you’re free sometime?
The person waiting for my stall cleared their throat. Before I could overthink it, I tacked on, Oh, and the glasses are perfect. Thank you, and hit send.
With my heart in my throat, I pocketed the phone and flushed so it wouldn’t be weird to walk out without doing anything. I opened the stall door, expecting to awkwardly nod to a stranger while we switched places, only to come face to face with the last person on Earth I ever wanted to see.
Joey.
My stomach dropped. “What the—”
“Fuck you, kid,” he said, a sneer stretched across his face. Before I could react, he punched me, hard, in the temple. I lost my balance and slipped, falling backwards. There was a loud thunk followed by an enormous pressure in the back of my head.
And then there was nothing at all.