"Atlas—"
"No, Max."
Thenolands harder than I want it to. I gentle my voice immediately.
"Listen to me. Please. My brothers and I are handling it. There's nothing on this trip that needs you. There's plenty on this trip I wouldn't want within a thousand miles of you. You aren't—and I want to be specific about this, because I've watched my brothers and me make this exact mistake in the last month—you aren't being protectedfrominformation. You know what the trip is. You know the goal. You know who I'm meeting and roughly why. I'm asking you to stay home while I go and do the work, and let me come back to you when it's done."
He doesn't answer.
I read him in the bond.
He's heard me. He hasn't entirely accepted it. There's a small steady refusal in him that's new, and unbeautiful, and I love it on sight. The Max from before would have folded. The Max from a month ago would have saidokayand meantI'll think about this later. This Max isn't folding. He isn't pretending he is.
He's letting it land. He's reserving judgment.
I file it.
I'll think about that later, in the dark, after I have him in a hotel bed and his breathing has slowed.
For now I reach across the table and take his hand again.
"Thank you for asking to go with me," I say. Quiet. "I know what it costs you. And please know how much it costs me to say no."
"...you're welcome."
"Will you come to the hotel with me anyway?"
He looks up. My heart skips a beat.
He looks at me for a long moment, and I can feel him decide.
"Yes."
I pay the bill. Henrik walks us out. Max is quiet in the elevator down to the street, quiet in the car. He puts his hand on the console between us and I take it. The bond between us is a low steady warmth I keep checking on the way I keep checking the road. He doesn't let go of my hand for the whole drive.
We pull up to the hotel, give the car to valet, and head up to our suite on the fourteenth floor.
Max is silent again in the elevator.
Not the bad silent. The post-confession silent. He's leaning into my side with his shoulder pressed against my ribs, one hand still in mine, watching the floors count up in the small mirrored panel.
The doors open.
We walk down the carpeted hallway.
I get the door open on the first try, my hand on the small of Max's back.. I push the door open with my hip and let him in ahead of me. Watch him take in the room.
The suite isn't ostentatious. King bed turned down. Low lamps. Heavy curtains drawn against the city. A bottle of water and a small dish of something sweet on the nightstand the staff knows to leave when I check in. I don’t stay here often anymore but I used to need a night away from the estate every so often and there was always a room available when I called.
Max looks at the room. He looks at me.
The bond between us is humming.
He puts his coat on the chair. He turns and walks back to me, stopping a hand-span from my chest the way he stopped a hand-span from my face on the stairs four hours ago, and he reaches up and starts loosening the tie I knotted for him.
"Slow," I say.
"Slow?"
