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“You bring all your angry hookups here, or am I special?”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever brought here, Maksim.”

The answer lands too clean and honest.

“So you come here alone?”

He nods. “Always alone.”

“And you didn’t bring Jake here, back when you two were still playing house?”

He sets his duffel and the shopping bags down on the kitchen counter.

“I bought this place during the divorce.”

“Oh.”

“I come here to clear my head.” His eyes flick to mine. “It’s peaceful.”

“Well, I’m not a peaceful person.”

“No,” he agrees, watching me carefully. “You’re not.”

“So I think you’ve made a mistake bringing me here.”

He steps closer. But not close enough.

“You’re right.” His voice is low. “You’re not peaceful at all, Maksim.”

A scoff leaves me, mostly out of self-defense.

“But I didn’t make a mistake.” His eyes stay fixed on mine. “I really wanna spend some time with you here.”

The honesty hits harder than I expected.

I want to ask why. Why now, why here, why after two weeks of silence he suddenly decides my presence is worth chasing across two hours of highway and one deeply unnecessary Walmart trip. Instead, I look away, swallowing hard against the lump rising in my throat, cursing him internally for saying things like that in a voice that makes it impossible to hide behind sarcasm.

After a moment of silence that stretches too long to be comfortable, he clears his throat.

“I’m going to make dinner now,” he says. “Go freshen up. Meet me out back. I’m making barbecue.”

“I don’t have anything to change into,” I mutter, raising a brow.

He picks up the duffel bag and walks over to me, holding it out. “There are clothes in here.”

“Your clothes?”

“Yes. My clothes.” His eyes linger on me for a second too long, dark and unreadable. Then he tilts his head toward the hallway. “The en-suite bedroom is that way.”

I take the bag from him, our fingers brushing. The brief contact sends a spark racing up my arm. For a moment, neither of us moves.

His gaze drops, briefly, unmistakably, to my mouth before lifting back to my eyes. The air between us thickens in that particular way I recognize too well. Heavy, electric, dangerous in the specific manner that has ruined me more than once.

I clear my throat, breaking the tension before I do something stupid, then head towards the room before he can say anything else.

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