Max stood in front of the tall double doors, hands buried deep in his pockets. He hadn’t been here in months. Not because he couldn’t. But because every visit felt like stepping into a battlefield—one with no shouting, no broken furniture, just silence sharp enough to draw blood. He pressed the doorbell. Footsteps approached quickly, and the door eased open. "Young Master," Lara, the maid, greeted with a small bow. Max offered a faint smile. “Hey, Lara. Still holding the place together?” “As best I can,” she replied warmly, stepping aside so he could enter. She closed the door behind him. “Your mother is upstairs. Would you like me to announce you?” Max shook his head. “No need. I’ll talk to her myself.” Lara gave a slight nod and moved away. He looked around the foyer. Everything was where it always had been—flawless. Untouched. As if time moved through the house but never dared to settle. Max climbed the stairs slowly, each step louder than it needed to be. The
The hallway had gone quiet, as though even the hospital walls were holding their breath.Footsteps echoed.Everyone’s head turned as a man in a white coat approached—tall, slightly grey at the temples, glasses perched low on his nose. A clipboard was in his hand, his expression unreadable.“Family members of Liam McKenzie?” he asked.Monica stood immediately, chest tightening.“I’m his mother,” Beatrice said quickly, stepping forward. “I’m here.”The doctor glanced past her to the others. “Anyone else?”“I’m his…” Monica hesitated. Ex-wife? She wasn’t sure what she counted as anymore. “I’m close.”He gave a short nod, accepting it. “You can come with me. Just family. We’ll talk in my office.”Brie pushed forward. “I’m his—”The doctor gently cut her off. “I'm sorry. Just immediate family.”Brie’s face twisted in frustration. “So what am I then, invisible?”No one responded.Monica didn’t look back as she followed the doctor, Beatrice walking stiffly beside her. The tension between the
Monica’s arms were still curled around Spencer’s waist when the phone started ringing. She stirred, eyes fluttering open. For a second, she didn’t move—just listened to the soft, persistent vibration from the nightstand. Spencer was still asleep beside her, his breathing even. Warm. The phone rang again. Careful not to wake him, she slipped her arms away and sat up, reaching for the phone. Unknown number. Her brows pulled together. She hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen—then answered. “Hello?” A beat of static. Then a voice. “Is this Monica Banks?” “Yes... who is this?” “There’s been an accident. Liam McKenzie—he’s been admitted. You were listed as an emergency contact.” Her heart dropped. She didn’t speak. Couldn’t. The words didn’t land—they crashed. One by one. “Miss Banks?” “I—I’m on my way,” she said quickly, ending the call. Her hands were trembling. “Where are you going?” Spencer’s voice came out groggy, his eyes barely open. Monica froze for a second,
Spencer turned off the engine and shifted in his seat, his gaze locking onto hers. “Monica…” She looked away quickly, her cheeks warming. “You’re making this feel a lot harder than it should be.” He chuckled under his breath, the smile on his lips sly and unbothered. “Woah… sorry for asking for permission.” Before she could respond, he unbuckled his seat belt and leaned in, slow and deliberate. Monica’s fingers clenched in her lap as he moved closer. Her heart pounded—loud and unsteady. Her breath caught as his scent hit her—faint cologne, something clean and warm and maddeningly familiar. “Spencer,” she whispered, unsure if it was a warning or a plea. His eyes didn’t waver. “You can push me away if you want,” he said low, voice barely a breath. “But don’t lie to me and say you don’t feel this too.” She didn’t move. Couldn’t. His lips hovered just a whisper from hers, and the air between them burned—full of things neither of them had dared say. “I hate you sometimes,”
They ate mostly in silence, save for the occasional clink of forks against plates and Lake muttering under his breath about Max actually being able to cook. By the time they were done, both plates were scraped clean.Lake leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. “Alright. I’ll give it to you. That was good.”Max smirked. “Told you.”Lake stood, gathering the plates. “I’ll clean up.”Max shot up immediately. “No, you won’t.”Lake raised a brow. “Why not?”“You’re a guest.”“I helped cook.”“You complained the entire time.”“Still counts.”Max crossed the kitchen and took the plates from him. “Sit down.”Lake didn’t move. “Max, I can wash dishes. I’m not going to break your expensive sink or something.”Max dumped the dishes in the sink. “You don't look like someone that can do anything.”“That's not true.”“I swear. You look so soft.”Lake rolled his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”"I know.""Let me.."Max turned, arms folded. “And you’re terrible at relaxing. Let me do this.”Lake
Lake spotted Max by the car and stopped walking. “What are you still doing here?” he asked flatly. Max didn’t move. “Waiting.” “For what?” “You.” Lake walked past him and hit the unlock button on his keys. “Don’t start.” “I’m not starting anything,” Max said. “Just tired of you acting like you don't want me.” Lake yanked the car door open but didn’t get in. "The only thing on your mind is sex.” Max’s eyes flicked up. “You know just what I like.” Lake slammed the door shut. “You showed up with some chick on your arm.” “So?” “So?” Max stepped forward. “She’s not the one I kissed in the bathroom.” Lake scoffed. “You gonna pretend again?” Max asked. “Act like it was nothing?” “I didn’t come here to argue.” “Then don’t argue. Say something real for once.” Lake stared at him. “You want something real? Fine. I felt like an idiot. Happy?” Max’s jaw tightened. “Why?” “Because you don’t want me. You want a reaction. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.” Max let out a sharp breath