And yet here they were, standing in Caitlin’s kitchen, staring at each other. Problem was, looking at Maze had always been like looking into the sun. Heart-stopping and . . . lethal.
And she’d brought a boyfriend . . .
Good times ahead.
The sound of a cork popping had him turning in time to see Caitlin taking a swig right from one of the bottles of wine. She swiped her forearm over her mouth and offered him the bottle.
He took it, but instead of drinking from it, he set it down out of her reach. “What’s going on, Cat?”
She sighed and seemed to relax slightly at his use of her nickname. “Nothing.”
“Come on,” he said. “You’re never anything but calm and in charge.”
“Calm? I’m not calm. Name one time I’ve been calm.”
That was an easy one for him. “The day your parents started fostering me. Even though at seventeen you were only one year older than me, you still took me by the hand and told me that I was yours now and that it was all going to be okay.” He shook his head at the memory. “I was shaking in my boots.”
She snorted. “You’ve never shaken in your boots, not a single day of your life.”
She was wrong. He’d been given up at age two. CPS had rehomed and rehomed him like he was a dog at the shelter. Not a puppy, because everyone wanted a puppy, but a complete-with-disciplinary-problems adolescent dog.
No one ever wanted to keep those.
By the time he’d landed at the Walsh house, he’d been scared plenty, his biggest fear being that people would always be able to walk away from him. “Shaking in my boots,” he repeated. “But not you. You commandeered my stuff and unpacked me even though I never unpack, anywhere. Before I knew what was happening, you took me apart—just like my backpack—and civilized me.”
Maze snorted. She’d hitched herself up and was sitting on the counter, taking a swig out of the forgotten wine bottle. Her hair was longer than it’d ever been, falling past her shoulders in wild fiery-red waves that were as uncontained as the woman herself. She was in faded Levi’s that fit like a second skin and some seriously hot boots, both showing off her mile-long legs. Her soft scoop-necked tee said: SHE BELIEVED SHE COULD, BUT SHE WAS REALLY TIRED SO SHE DIDN’T.
Everything about her sitting there with a dare me expression on her face teased at his memories of her. He might’ve been moved by that, but she’d been one of those who’d been able to walk away from him.
“‘Civilized’?” she echoed, brows raised.
“Okay, so ‘civilized’ is probably a stretch,” he admitted. “Human then. She made me human. Michael too. He used to make me hold his hand, told me he was nervous about whatever it was we were doing. Didn’t realize until years later that I was the shaky one and he had my back. At nine.” His voice thickened. “He had a way of reaching right inside someone and squeezing their heart for every emotion in it.”
Cat drew a deep, shaky breath and nodded.
Thinking about Michael was hard enough. Speaking about him was almost impossible, and Walker too had to take a deep breath. “Actually, you all made me human.”
“Same,” Maze whispered. “You’ve done so much for us, Cat, always. But something’s wrong, I can feel it. I want to help.”
“You’ve had a funny way of showing it.”
Maze looked stricken for a beat, then nodded, owning it. “I know,” she said quietly. “I’ve got a lot to make up for, so please let me.”
Cat sighed. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I mean, am I overreacting to everything and wanting to kill people? Yes. Do I maybe need professional help? Also yes. But I’m a stressed-out bride, so whatever.” She pointed at Walker. “You. You never seem to show when you’re angry or frustrated and never overreact about anything. What’s your secret?”
His secret wasn’t any secret at all. For most of his younger years, showing anything had brought him nothing but trouble. “Anger and frustration are unproductive emotions,” he said. “Let them go.”
“Seriously? That’s it? That doesn’t help me at all.”
“Because you’ve never let go of anything,” he said.
Cat tossed up her hands in frustration. “Duh.”
He let out a low laugh. “Try this. When you feel yourself ramping up, count to five. Chances are, you’ll have lost the murderous urge by then.”
“One, two, three, four, five,” she said quickly, and then shook her head. “Nope, I still want to shake you both.”
Walker shrugged. “Better than wanting to kill us.”
Maze looked surprised. And insulted. “Us? What have we done?”
“I’m not sure,” Caitlin said, “but something was going on when I walked in here. It seemed like you were about to fight.”
Walker knew better than to react, but Maze couldn’t seem to help herself. For all she’d been through—and she’d been through a lot, through hell, even more so than him—she still wore her heart on her sleeve, which was maybe his favorite thing about her. She sucked in a breath, then seemed to realize that she’d given herself away with the sound, so she rolled her eyes.
“Nothing’s going on with me, but you’re right.” She jabbed her thumb in his direction. “He’s been annoying since he arrived.”
Walker laughed; he couldn’t help it. “You do know that you still wrinkle your nose when you lie, right?”
Maze rubbed her nose and glared at him.
“See, neither of you is denying it,” Caitlin said, hands on hips. “Something’s wrong. I don’t know what it is, but I want it fixed. Now. Before my wedding. You can consider it one of my wedding presents, but to be clear, I still want real presents.”
“This is ridiculous,” Maze said. “There’s nothing—”
“Maze, you can’t even look at him. And he hasn’t stopped looking at you.”
So much for being stoic and impenetrable. But she was right. He couldn’t stop looking at Maze. Mostly because he wanted to wrap his hands around her neck. Sometimes he also wanted to squeeze. But other times he just wanted to slide those hands north into her hair. Or south, to slowly peel her out of those sexy jeans and remind her why they’d been magic together the one time she’d let her walls down with him.
Since he couldn’t do any of that, he shook his head at Caitlin. “This weekend’s about you, not us.”
“That’s right,” Maze chimed in, backing him up. Which, for the record, she’d never done before. Typically, she’d argue with him even if he said the sky was blue. He was pretty sure she enjoyed it.
And once upon a time, he’d enjoyed it too.
A lot.
Maze hopped off the counter and headed to the door. “I’ll just go check on the others—oomph,” she said as she ran into Jace. Heather was right on his heels, holding Sammie.
Jace caught Maze and used the excuse to wrap his arms around her. Not surprising, since the guy was her boyfriend. But what was surprising was that Maze jumped, like she wasn’t used to being touched by him.
Interesting.
“Aw,” Heather said to Maze. “You two are a cute couple. Have you been together long?”