Page 148 of Sorrow & Strangers

I swat at him, and he pinches my ass.

Max isn’t playful. Why is he being playful? It might be time to put some real distance between us. Even from that small act, I can feel unease skittering through me. I flip him off as I leave his office, heading back to the treadmill to finish my workout.

Rafe and Max spar for an entire hour, and I try to focus on my own workout, but I find myself checking in on them every thirty seconds. Last night, when I got home and found Rafe bleeding again, I was worried that he had taken a huge step back in his recovery, but he is healing much more quickly. I think he just needs to be careful in how he chooses to exercise.

Their workout looks brutal, and more than once, the whole gym quakes as they are slammed into walls or the floor. At one point, Rafe throws Max into the wall full of weapons, and they all crash to the mats. I monitor to make sure Max’s eyes never even show a hint of green. They don’t, and it’s borderline impressive how strong he is even without the berserker.

Max offers a hand to Rafe, and he pulls him up. I quickly avert my eyes as they walk toward the door of the sparring room, not wanting it to seem as if I’ve been keeping heavy tabs on them. I know Max has already caught me. We locked eyes a couple of times as they trained, but I don’t want Rafe to know I am hovering.

Both of them are sporting various bruises, and Rafe has a split lip. I sweep my gaze over him, noting all his injuries. Worry curls in my stomach, but then Rafe smiles, and it might be the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen from him. The sparkle that was in his eyes after Max proved he could restrain him is even more pronounced.

Rafe walks to me and slings his arm around my shoulder. He seems so at ease.

“You good?” I ask, lifting my towel to wipe the blood off his lower lip gently.

He grins and nods. “I’m good.”

“Good.” I smile back.

“Max is a dick,” Rafe says, his voice full of humor.

“A dick who kicked your ass,” Max says, smiling broadly. He’d obviously enjoyed it too.

There’s something about his arrogance, about the way he helped Rafe, that makes my stomach flutter a little.

No! I need to put distance between us, not get all hot and bothered.

“And I will again,” Max says to Rafe before winking at me. “You guys are good to come back, at least once a day. I’ll close off the gym in the mornings,” he says, his eyes lingering on mine. They’ve darkened significantly, and I imagine mine have too.

“Right.” I clear my throat and look up at Rafe. “We should go.”

Rafe nods, and Max slaps him on the shoulder as we leave. Of course they already have a bro language.

We walk in silence for a while before Rafe breaks it. “So you and the berserker?” he asks.

I tense. This isn’t something I want to discuss with anyone, let alone ­Connor’s brother. Will he be angry with me? Call me a whore?

“Are friends. Yes,” I say.

“So, fun fact about demons, specifically Fallen. We hear everything.”

My stomach drops, and I refuse to look at him, afraid that I will see the disappointment in his eyes. I don’t think I can handle losing him or the way he loves me.

Rafe bumps my shoulder. “Summer.” I glance at him. “It’s good.” He shrugs, looking ahead again. “You look better than you did in Eden.”

“So do you,” I say softly, relief relaxing my muscles.

“I’m not fucking a berserker though.” He snickers, throwing a side-eye smirk at me.

“That was the last time,” I say, crossing my arms. How many times can I say that?

“Why?” Rafe asks. “It’s not serious, right?”

“No,” I reply, and I can feel the commitment-phobe in me raise its hackles at the suggestion that it could be anything but just sex.

“Then who cares?” he asks with a small shrug. Rafe is so nonchalant that it makes me wonder about his past. He implied that troubling things had happened when he was a kid. Something bad enough that Connor had to take control of the situation, but had he dated since then? Connor never mentioned it, and with the exception of Rafe and Luke, the other Morningstars are all such Lotharios. They’re passionate males, and I wonder if, beneath the pain, Rafe is too.

“I care,” I whisper. “I’m not ready, Rafe.”