Page 201 of Lovers Like Us

Maximoff gives her a tough look. “Just let Farrow and me vet the next fucking guy. We’ll grill him twice as much assecurity.”

My mouth almost rises. “I am security, wolfscout.”

He flips me off, but he drops his hand when Jane says, “No.” Her calico cat springs up on her stomach, and she strokes Carpenter. “I’m serious, Moffy. I’m taking a break from all men with any sort of sexual benefitsattached.”

His brows pull together in concern. “Jane—”

“Hebelievedthat rumor.” She sits up to better meet his eyes. Carpenter springs off the loveseat. “I’d been texting Nate throughout the tour, and he only knew about the locations to our FanCon stops, before publicized, because I told him. I trusted him. I didn’t even consider that hecould’ve…”

“No onedid,” Maximoffemphasizes.

“It’s not your fault,” I tellJane.

If anything, this is on security. Me and the entire team. But at the end of the day, we caught the guy. Say we caught Nate months earlier, Jane would still be upset. There’d still be thesamebreach oftrust.

The sameending.

But Thatcher doesn’t see it like that. His anger isn’t even directed at me. Jane Cobalt is his client. Hisresponsibility.

In his mind, he should’ve seen Nate as a threat. Thatcher couldn’t even speak when I asked him about charges against Nate. He’s beating himself up over thisshit.

Banks is spending the night at our townhouse. Hopefully his twin brother can help him realize that he couldn’t have donemore.

“I should’ve known,” Jane says, setting down the pint on the rug. “Ishould’ve seenthis—”

“No,” Maximoffforces.

“You weren’t the one with his dick in you,” she combats. “I literally let a psychopath into my body.” She tries to stay witty and lighthearted, but the severity of this line sinks infast.

Her hands fly to her face, and a sob breaks through. Her body heavesforward.

Maximoff holds his best friend against his chest and speaks in French, his tone harsh and somewhat loving. He’s not that soft, but he kisses the top of her head. I hear the wordsmamoitié.

She rubs her face with the sleeve of her coffee-printpajamas.

I’m not sure what to say in this situation. “I’m sorry, Jane,” Ibreathe.

She sniffs and wipes more tears, hiccupping. Five cats start to swarm the ice cream, a good distraction. “I’ll be okay,” she murmurs and leans down. “Come here, myloves.”

Jane cradles Toodles and picks up the pint before standing. With a tearful gaze, she says, “I’ll get you all little bowls. Followme.”

We watch Jane leave for the kitchen, five cats in tow, and then our eyes meetagain.

I tell him, “That could’ve beenworse.”

“That was bad,” he says with a nod. “A real fucking apocalypse.” Jane being upset in any capacity always gets tohim.

“Looks like we survived the ‘apocalypse’ then,” I say, using air-quotes. “Since we’re allbreathing.”

Maximoff cracks a knuckle, growing more serious, and he has trouble leaning back. His shoulders squared and posture upright. “What criminal charges do you think willstick?”

For Nate, hemeans.

I edge forward on the coffee table, my knees touching his knees. “Anything that happened in the attic, it’s my word againsthis.”

“So none of that,” he realizes, staring off for abeat.

“Yeah.” I sweep his sharpened cheekbones. I wonder if he wanted to charge Nate for raising a knife at my face. I study his features, and I’m certain that he did. Damn. It’s cute that he cares about me, but I care more about him. “There’s a stalking and harassment law in Pennsylvania,” I tell Maximoff. “It’s a first degreemisdemeanor.”