Page 44 of Lovers Like Us

I train my focus on Maximoff. “I need to touch your nose and feel for afracture.”

His joints lockup.

I’m not going to hurt you.I express that through my eyes, and then he nods. I lightly skim my thumb down the swollen bridge before pinching alittle.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, the only sign of pain. “I’m fine,” he tries to assureme.

I concentrate on a centimeter of bone, adding almost no force as I run my finger back and forth.Shit.I drop my hand when I’m 100%certain.

“He’s prone to nosebleeds,” Beckett tells me. “This happened years back at that yacht party, and the bone didn’tbreak.”

Maximoff holds my gaze strongly, both of us remembering that moment. I was there. I stood on the yacht deck and saw him fight Charlie on the dockbelow.

He wasnineteen.

I was twenty-four, on the very,verycusp of a career change from medicine to security. Even back then, I found myself investing my interest in MaximoffHale.

I wanted to intervene on his behalf. Fuck, I would’ve loved to pull him out of that fight. But a silent Hale-Cobalt-Meadows declaration always hangs in the air:do not interject in familialarguments.

Even me, the maverick on the security team, hasn’t bent that rule out of shape, but to come to his aid, I’ve wantedto.

Manytimes.

Maximoff breaks eye contact and fixes a narrowed look on his cousin. “Thanks, Beckett,” he saysdryly.

“I didn’t bring it up to be an asshole,” Beckett clarifies. “Farrow should know your medicalhistory.”

Maximoff growls in frustration and tries to roll his headbackwards.

I tighten my grip on his jaw, keeping him bent forward. “Don’tmove.”

“Just tell me the diagnosis,” Maximoff says, still pinching his nose. “I need facial reconstructive surgery, right? A brain transplant tomorrow? Probably a full-body cast and a coffinfitting?”

I smile while chewing my gum.This guy, man.“You can keepgoing.”

He glowers. “I’mdone.”

“That’s too bad,” I say seriously and slide off the counter, my chest brushing up against his chest. I keep hold of his jaw. “I love watching a Harvard Dropout self-diagnose a nosebleed as a full-bodyinjury.”

He’d flip me off if hecould.

My hand descends, and I rub the back of his neck. My other fingers hover by his wrist. “Bleeding looks like it’s slowed.” I draw his hand down so he stops pinching his nose. No blood dripping. That’sgood.

“And?” heasks.

“No surgery, no X-rays. You only need ice and pain meds. It’s just a small break.” I’ve seen several minor nose fractures in the ER like his. I take the ice from Beckett. “Keep the ice across the bridge of your nose and be gentle. It’ll help withswelling.”

His shoulders loosen, relaxed at the news. I know what concerns him—and it’s not pain—it’s calling the concierge doctor, scheduling a surgery date, and derailing the meet-and-greet tour where fans, crew, and everyone on the bus are counting onhim.

Maximoff splays the ice baggie across the bone, and I wash my hands in thesink.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Sulli says again. “If you want to bail on the ultra marathon, I totally getit.”

Maximoff speaks for three full minutes, assuring Sulli that he can easily still run. The race isn’t soon either, and regardless, they won’t have that much time to train ontour.

Beckett sips his beer and watches me wipe my hands on a towel. Blue and yellow braided “friendship” bracelets are tied loose on his wrists. Identical to the ones on Sulli’sankles.

He has a question for me. I can tell. “Ask,” I say and toss the towel on thecounter.