Page 28 of Maximus

I glanced around him and met his stare in the mirror.

He looked pensive before he quickly shut down and gave me his cool blank eyes. It was crazy how one look could chill me to the bone or make feel warm and flustered. It was strange—he made me feel strange.

Hot and cold.

Fire and ice.

I couldn’t get a read on him and I’d tried.

I wasn’t afraid of Max, though maybe I should’ve been. All the way around, he was bad for my health and I knew it the moment I started to care what he thought of me. I didn’t have the luxury of caring about anything other than my boys. They were my priority.

“Yeah. Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime.” I shrugged and beat a hasty retreat out of the bathroom.

Liam and Eli were still on the couch, Eli now in control of the remote. I knew this because cartoons were on, something that Liam tolerated because his brother liked them, but at six, he’d deemed them for babies.

“You guys hungry?” I asked, plastering on what I hoped looked like a happy smile.

Two yeahs rang out from the couch and both boys turned to face me.

Damn, I had good-looking boys. They were everything good in my world—they were my purpose for living. My boys were the only reasons I hadn’t curled up in the fetal position and given up. We had to make it through, I had to be strong for them. Had to. There was no other option.

“Who wants to help me in the kitchen?”

“Me!” Eli shouted and jumped up.

Liam was slower to follow and less enthusiastic, but he trailed behind his brother.

This was our thing—cooking. It always had been. As soon as Liam was big enough to sit on the counter, his tushie was on it and he was helping. Then Elijah came along and now he did the mixing while Liam measured and poured. I was no master chef, but what I lacked in culinary skills I made up for with fun. We danced, we sang, we goofed around. Our time. Just the three of us, spending time together cooking.

Best time of the day was when we were together.

“What are we going to make?” Liam asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s look through the cupboards and fridge and see what we have.”

“Is this Max’s house?”

“No, honey. It belongs to one of his friends,” I told Liam, then decided to give my son some honesty. “This place is called a safehouse.”

Liam’s head cocked to the side, a lock of hair falling over his forehead reminding me he needed a haircut, and his nose scrunched in confusion.

“Remember back at the restaurant, there was an explosion?” Liam’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Well, Max wants to keep us safe. So he asked one of his friends if we could stay here. That way, no one can find us and Max and his friends can find out what happened at the restaurant.”

“Are we going to die?” Liam asked.

“Absolutely not!” Max boomed from behind me, scaring the absolute shit out of me.

I jumped, banging my elbow on the counter, before I turned to face him. I also may’ve taken a step in front of Liam and Elijah.

Max’s expression was piss-your-pants frightening. Furious didn’t begin to cover it. His pale blue eyes had gone glacial. He was scowling, complete with deep, hard lines between his eyebrows. And lastly, he was still shirtless but not wet, which meant he hadn’t taken a shower yet.

“Max! You scared me.”

His gaze racked over me, then beyond me to the boys, and glacial was a thing of the past. Fire had melted the ice. The air turned stifling, so thick that it was hard to draw in much-needed oxygen since I was panting.

“No one is going to hurt any of you,” Max continued.