Page 64 of Alphas Like Us

Near the dresser, Beckett is telling the Oliveira brothers about New York clubs, Donnelly listening in as he draws, and next to the girls, Jack is showing Akara a photo or video on his camera. That doesn’t shock me. Jack and Akara have been more civil since theFanCon.

Thatcher is the only one observing and not in a group, his back up against the door. And no, I don’tcare.

Charlie slips on dark sunglasses. “You look like shit, Moffy. If you’djust—”

“I’m not taking a Vicodin,” Maximoff combats and then winces. An icepack slides down his shoulder—I fix it for him since the sports drink occupies hishand.

Jane says something to her brother in French, and he raises one hand in surrender. Conversations pop up around the room, and I hear the tail end of Oscar talking about the worst flavor ofDoritos.

I tune everyone out and hone in onMaximoff.

He’s pinching his eyes, and he readjusts himself, starting to slide back off theheadboard.

Shit.

He’s not upset about Charlie nagginghim.

He’s physically hurting.More.

Andmore.

He’s even willing to lie flat and advertise his pain. Before the ice packs slip, I remove them from his body. His shoulders sink onto the soft mattress, and his head finds the pillow. Eyesclosing.

I stroke his hair out of hisface.

He shifts his head on my thigh. And he tries to roll more towards me but can’t with his bandaged shoulder—his left hand quakes, distressed tears wet the corners of hiseyes.

That’sit.

I have to dosomething.

Spreading my legs, I pull Maximoff carefully between them, and I reach for the ice packs, placing one lightly on his chest, one below the red sling on hisabdomen.

I already know it’s not enough to extinguish his discomfort. With his head on my lap, I wipe the wet corners of his eyes with mythumb.

More conversations ignite in the attic, some about theWe Are Callowaydocuseriesand others about the auction. They’re all good about not drawing attention toMaximoff.

The fact that he’s this vulnerable, head on my lap, in front of them is theclearestsign that he’s not doingwell.

Maximoff drops his shaking left hand from his face. And he grips my bent knee in a vice, combating that post-op pain. His cheekbones sharpen when he clenches his teeth—and he tries to bury his face into my thighagain.

Fuck,I have to do more. I have to. And I’ve been hesitating on one option because I don’t know how he’llreact.

I love safeguarding thegoodin Maximoff while also being the one to loosen his tight laces. It sounds contradictory, but to me,goodisn’t straight-edged. Good is compassion and love for all people, for humanity. Good is a selfless kindness so unadulterated it stings youreyes.

If there’s anything I know, it’s that the offer I’m about to make won’t hurt his morality. It will just take away hispain.

And I need him to believe thistoo.

I comb his hair back one more time, and then I dip my head down to whisper against his ear. “Can I shotgunyou?”

11

MAXIMOFF HALE

Can I shotgun you?

The hammering pain inside my bones dulls as my brain processes those fourwords.