Page 23 of Lovers Like Us

Motherfucker.I grit my teeth, my nose flaring. Distaste runs into the back of my throat. I pop up a second photo, posted 7 hoursago.

An altered photo of Maximoff in his Audi. Where he’s halfway out of the windshield. Blood soaking the glass. My stomach roils. I swallow a rock, and I remember to view this horrific account as hisbodyguard.

Not hisboyfriend.

Right now, I have to separate the two. My job description says,scrutinize visual deaths of your client with rational thought and care.But I’m scrutinizing visual deaths of the guy I love. I may as well slap a hot iron at my face. Painful—and it’s pissing meoff.

I grind my teeth a fewtimes.

Be his bodyguard.I can’t lash out in the comment section of an anonymous internet user. I can’t be overly sensitive to idiotic fuckers. I’m the shield that protects Maximoff Hale, and I’m never going to break and leave himdefenseless.

See, I have to practice a great deal of restraint. Especiallynow.

I examine the photo closer.Real threat or fakethreat?

It could be a troll account. I don’t have enough informationyet.

Third and most recent photo, posted 5 hours ago, shows Maximoff outside of the nightclub Tidal Wave. And he’sdecapitated.

Fuck.

My chest constricts, and Maximoff shifts his jaw more in the crook of my neck and shoulder. He’s only vulnerable like this with me, and usually, it happens when we’re alone. Shit, I just want to protect the fuck out ofhim.

Staying motionless, I try my best not to wakeMaximoff.

And I force myself to analyze the third photo. Searching for anything to help determine if it’s a real or fakethreat.

Seems fake.But my heart rate elevates. Because I recognize it’s not 100% confirmed.With the slimmest chance, someone out there may truly want Maximoff Hale todie.

Enough to make ithappen.

“Farrow?” Maximoff lifts his headgroggily.

“Go back to sleep,” I whisper and click his phone screen toblack.

He squints and rubs his eyes roughly. “Your whole body is flexed…” His gaze lands on the black-screened phone, and he readies himself like a soldier for combat. Immediately sitting up, alert andawake.

“Maximoff—”

He steals the phone out of my hand. Basically, I let him have it. I’m not here to cultivate secrets and lies between us. Do I wish he wouldn’t have to see that account?Yeah.

Will I willfully keep him in the dark?Never.

Maximoff swipes out of the lock screen, and the @maximoffdeadhale Instagram account is already popped up. Almost instantly, his head swerves to me. “It’s a fucking troll account.” He tosses the phone on my lap. “It’s not a bigdeal.”

I cock my head, watching him smash the pillow again to lie back down. “You just saw visual depictions of your death, created by someone out in the world, and you feelfine?”

He yawns into his bicep and then clutches my gaze. “I get death threats every damn week. They’ve never beenserious.”

“Someone took the time to photoshop your head off your body, and that doesn’t seem serious?” I honestly wonder if he hears himself. When I was his mom’s bodyguard, I saw plenty of fucked-upgraphics.

Like pie charts poorly estimating Lily’s sex partners, her head photoshopped on rabbits, slut typed a hundred times on her face—but not her beingmurdered.

Not likethis.

Maximoff brushes a hand through his disheveled hair. “Sounds like a normal Sunday through Saturday tome.”

I nod a couple times. “At least now we know you’re desensitized to your owndeath.”