A knock at the door.
Three soft taps. Margot's pattern, the one she's used since I was sixteen.
"Max, sweetheart? Are you up?"
My body goes hot and cold at once. I yank the sheet to my chin so fast that leftover slick smears against my hip and my throat closes around—don't think about Atlas's cock, don't think about Bane's hands, don't think about the noises you made into a palm last night Max, do not—
"Yeah." My voice scrapes out of my raw throat. I cough. Try again. "I'm up. Come in."
The door opens and my mother slips through it the way she always does—sideways, like she's trying not to take up too much space. Soft gray cardigan. No makeup. Hair clipped back. A glass of orange juice in one hand and the little brown bottle of acetaminophen in the other.
"How's your head?"
"Better."
I clear my throat. It scrapes again. I cough.
"Sorry. Throat's dry."
"Mm. That's the orange juice for." She sets the glass on the nightstand. The bottle next to it. Doesn't sit on the edge of the bed, and I love her for it. Stands at the bedpost, hand resting on the wood. "Zero said you went up with a migraine."
"Yeah. I think the drive caught up with me."
"Probably the wine, too."
"Probably the wine."
I had two sips. She knows I had two sips. I'm not sure what we're doing here, but we're doing it together.
Her eyes are on me, and they're doing the thing they do when she's worried. Not pushing. Just looking. The careful Margot stillness that saysI know something is off, and I am choosing to trust you, and I am also leaving the door open in case you need it.
It cuts.
"Should we cancel?" she asks. "Richard booked he and I a boat tour at ten, that one along the coast, but I told him we could—"
"No. Go. Please."
"Are you sure?"
"Mom. Yes. Go. I'm just going to shower and sleep some more. If I'm hungry I'll find you guys later for dinner."
"And if you're not?"
"Then the boys will look after me."
It comes out softer than I mean.
She blinks. Just once. Brief.
"...the boys will look after you."
"I—yeah. I mean—Atlas always knows where to find painkillers, and Bane gets weirdly hovery, and Zero will probably yell at me about water."
I am pushing past it too fast. I hear it. I keep going.
"They've been good to me. Since the—since everything. They check on me."
She's quiet for a beat. Her face doesn't change. Just that small steadying inhale she does when she's deciding not to ask the question she's been carrying.
