Page 162 of Sorrow & Strangers

“Rafe, if you’re not ready in three minutes, I’m going without you,” I call, pounding on the door.

Rafe opens the door, already dressed and ready to go. “Wow. You wouldn’t wait for me to get ready?”

“No, I have shit to do.”

“Harsh. I’m your favorite brother.”

I roll my eyes. “Can we go?”

Rafe pushes past me and pounds down the stairs. “Now who’s waiting on who?”

Max is waiting at his desk for us when we arrive at the gym, and when I unzip my hoodie, his gaze immediately locks on the mark on my neck. “Whoa. What happened to you?”

“Dammit,” I curse under my breath.

“Wait,” Rafe says, looking at me. “That’s not from you?” he asks Max, and I’ve never wanted to punch him square in the face more.

I cover my neck. “It’s not from anyone.” Max’s gaze remains on my neck, and I shift away from him slightly.

“Summer,” Rafe says, frowning.

“Can you drop it?” I ask pointedly, but Rafe pulls my hand away. I swat at him, but he easily restrains my hands so he can really look at the bruise. “Rafe!” I growl.

“It’s huge!” he says, ignoring me. “I thought for sure it was from Max.”

“I’m leaving,” I growl, but Max grabs me by the shoulder. “Go work on cardio. I’ll take care of your nosy brother.”

I stomp my way to the treadmill, grumbling all the way about arrogant, bossy, impossible men. Max pulls Rafe to the sparring room, and they immediately launch into training. It’s more brutal than any of my lessons, but they both seem to be getting a kick out of it. Rafe seems much lighter on his feet, and every time we come here, another piece of the dark cloud that always seems to be hovering over him lightens.

They are in there for close to an hour, and when they return, Rafe is bruised and battered but smiling. Max is glistening with sweat, but barely winded.

“Your turn, Sum,” Max says, and it’s wild to me that he can do sessions like this back-to-back. He is truly the fittest person I’ve ever met, and I shouldn’t be surprised by his stamina.

Rafe heads to the mat to start on the weights as I walk into the sparring room.

Max throws me my sai. “So, want to talk about that?”

“Talk about what?”

“Really, Summer?” he asks, staring pointedly at my neck. His sword glows as he activates the runes.

No, I’d rather die, thanks.

I block the first spell, which flies at me slowly.

“Don’t make me ask,” he says, sending another rune, faster this time.

I block it, and then I drop my sai to my sides, the exasperation and irritation clear in my tone when I say, “No, I haven’t fucked anyone. No, I’m not planning to fuck anyone else. No, you and I are not fucking again.” I think for a moment, putting my hands on my hips and tipping my head. “Did I cover all the bases?”

Max quirks a brow, obviously not willing to let this go. “That is a claiming mark, Sum. Whoever gave you that definitely did it on purpose.”

I exhale heavily. “It’s not that deep. I promise,” I say with a shrug. “Why do you even care?”

“Because,” he says, lowering his sword, “you’re my friend.”

“I know,” I say, dropping the attitude. “And I promise that I’m fine.” I look away. “But nothing happened.” I’m not sure why I need to add that, but it feels necessary, and it’s more or less true. Nothing sexual actually happened.

Max holds up his free hand. “It’s not my business if it did. I just want to know you’re okay.”