Page 19 of Scarred Angel

“Move on?”

He nods, eyes sliding away from mine.

It shouldn’t sting to realize the connection I thought we had was one-sided. He’s right. Maksim was out there rediscovering himself, rebuilding his legacy. What could he have had in common with a girl whose biggest thrill back then was making lime-green slime? But the prickling in my belly is real, no matter how sound the logic.

But things can change. I want them to. Some of my earliest memories are with Maksim.

I reach for his hand, turning it over, tracing the ink etched across his knuckles, where faint scars cut through the black.

“I get it,” I say, forcing a smile as I meet those too-pretty blue eyes. “But you’re here now, Maxy. And you don’t get to flake out on me. We’re tight-knit around here—we look out for each other.”

“So I’ve heard.”

His laugh hits like a jolt of electricity, sparking where our skin touches and rolling through me, until I have to press my thighs together.

I study him, drinking him in like he might vanish if I blink. Maksim is beautiful. A razor jaw, storm-blue eyes, and of course, lashes too thick for a man.

Why does that always happen?

“Wait—why do you get to call me Maxy, but I can’t say Vali?”

I shrug. “I don’t make the rules.”

“Except you just did.”

“Fine. It’s because you owe me.”

I push up to stand, biting back the soreness thrumming through every muscle. Before I can reach for my crutches, Maksim’s already there, one hand at the small of my back, the other grabbing them first.

“Starting off strong. Good boy.”

His brow lifts, and for a second, I swear I feel his hand tense against my spine. Maybe I imagine it. Hard to tell when I’m too distracted by the way his touch burns through the thin fabric, each fingertip leaving a trail that feels a little too…deliberate.

I look up and catch him watching me. Maybe it’s all in my head, but I swear there’s fire in his gaze, a flicker of something I’ve never seen before. My heart rate picks up, and suddenly, everything starts to make sense.

Maksim has crept into my thoughts more times than I’d ever admit since the moment he showed up at my bedside. I keep telling myself it’s because I missed him. But I know better. It’s attraction, plain and superficial, of course. Because the boy I once knew grew into a man I’ve only seen in passing flashes…a man too dangerously grown to fit in the memories I’ve kept of him.

Who is he now? And why does he look more haunted than the day he left us?

The question lingers, tightening something in my chest. I’m suddenly humming with the need to peel back every one of his layers.

“Coming?”

“I’m afraid to ask what my debt entails.”

“Loyal servitude,” I say, throwing a glance over my shoulder, letting just enough heat into my voice to toe the line between teasing and something else. If he picks up on it, he doesn’t show it.

Hermes pads behind me, nudging my leg as Maksim closes in.

“You’ve got my full attention,” he says, voice flat. “And his.”

I smile, reaching down to scratch behind my dog’s ear. “He’s a good boy. Been attached to me since the day we met. He’ll get used to you.”

Maksim doesn’t say anything, and a small, stupid part of me deflates. Maybe it’s because he’s not staying long enough for anyone to get used to him.

I turn away, already missing a man who hasn’t even left yet.

Setting my crutch against the wall, I shuffle through my closet, trying to dispel thoughts of Maksim before they dig any deeper.