"You want to keep me company."
He pauses at the chess set. Doesn't look up.
"Maybe." He bites the inside of his cheek and looks up at me through his long lashes. My stomach clenches. Fuck, he’s so handsome.
"Get over here, baby."
He's in my space before I'm back on the couch. Slim weight against my side, his shoulder under my arm, his head tucked into the curve of my neck. I sit down with him already attached to me. He folds his legs up onto the cushions and burrows in.
I exhale through my nose. Pick up the beer. Don't drink it. Set it back down.
"Long day?"
"Long week."
"Mm."
"Atlas had me on a call till nine."
"I heard part of it from the kitchen. You were polite. He was using his boss voice."
"Hewasusing his voice."
I let my head tip back against the couch. He smells like the soap from his and the cotton of whatever shirt he's stolen from somebody—Zero's, by the cut of the sleeves—and he's warm and pliant against me in the way he only gets late at night when he's run out of armor for the day.
"What was he on you about?"
"Hawkins."
"...the warehouse guy?"
"The warehouse guy. He had a shipment short last Tuesday. Two pallets. He swears it's a count error on the front end. I don't think he's lying. Atlas thinks he might be. Atlas wants me to ride him until we know."
Max snuggles in closer. "Are you going to?"
"I'm going to talk to the guy who counted the front end. Hawkins isn't a thief. He's tired. He's got a kid at home with something I don't want to ask about and a wife who isn't sleeping. I've watched him work for six years. He's definitely not the leak."
"...does Atlas know that?"
"Atlas knows what Atlas knows. Atlas wants me to be sure. Which is fair. I'd want me to be sure if I were him."
He hums. His hand finds the button on my shirt and starts picking at it absently.
"You sound less mad than you usually do when he Atlas keeps you working late."
"Mm. I'm tired, Max. He doubled my routes. I don't have the energy to be mad at him on top of running them."
"How's that going? The doubled routes."
"Brutal. The dispatchers are good. The drivers are good. I have a guy in Charleston who I think is about to quit if I don't give him a weekend off, which I am going to give him on Saturday. Two of the trucks need new tires before next monthand Atlas hasn't approved the spend yet, which he will, but I'd like him to do it before I have to chase him about it.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “The route through Pittsburgh is going to need a second man on it because that warehouse manager hates working alone after dark and I don't blame him."
"...Pittsburgh's the new one, right?"
"Pittsburgh's the new one."
"Why Pittsburgh?"
"Because it's the cleanest stop between us and Cleveland and we needed Cleveland three weeks ago."
