Page 56 of One Little Mistake

I’m reacting way too strongly to him.

I owe him my gratitude, and that’s it. Full stop.

“Don’t argue,” I mumble, pulling my hand free and sitting up abruptly. “You’ll just get sick, and it’s no big deal. Besides, I was going to check on Tim, anyway.”

“You need to rest, Erin,” he says, and the way my name sounds in his deep, tired voice makes something stir inside me.

I catch it in my mind and replay it over and over.

For the first time, I actually like the way my name sounds.

“I was resting. I just woke up,” I lie, grabbing the first excuse that comes to mind as I hurry out of the room. Away from Max. Away from that bed.

I linger in the kitchen way longer than necessary, stirring the tea with honey far more carefully than it needs. Anything to delay going back. Anything to give Max enough time to fall asleep.

My eyes wander around the kitchen, and I sigh. Everything here feels so familiar, so safe, so heartbreakingly mine. And yet I know none of it ever really was. It was just a mirage, an illusionof a perfect life, a glimpse of a happiness that was never meant to last.

My eyes are heavy, and sleep starts pulling me under.

I know I barely have time to rest—Tim needs to be fed again in just a couple of hours.

Carefully, I crack open the bedroom door and immediately lock eyes with the man lying there.

Max is sprawled out on his back, the blanket pulled up to his waist, quietly studying me, following my every move with those sharp eyes of his.

“Here,” I say in a shaky voice, handing him a steaming cup of tea.

“Thanks,” he rasps, clearing his throat as he sits up, leaning against the headboard.

He takes a sip, winces—it’s clearly too hot—and pulls the blanket higher, hiding from my gaze the thin black trail of hair running down his stomach.

I don’t know what to do or where to put myself. Feeling awkward and out of place, I walk over to the window and stare out at the snow-blanketed city, though I barely see anything at all.

Max’s presence is overwhelming. There are too many questions swirling around my life right now. Too much uncertainty.

“Are you just gonna stand there like a statue?” he teases softly. “Come lie down. I promise I won’t bite. We can even build a pillow wall if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” I mutter, swallowing the lump in my throat, and finally make my way back to my side of the bed.

I lie down on the very edge, clutching the blanket up to my chin, and stare at the ceiling. Max switches off the bedside lamp, shifts around a bit, and then goes still. I listen to his breathing—steady, heavy—and somehow, despite everything, I drift off too.

But what feels like only a heartbeat later, my phone alarm goes off, letting me know it’s time for Tim’s early morning feeding.

It takes everything in me to force my eyes open.

I’m so exhausted I can barely move, and for a moment, I forget there’s someone else in the apartment besides me.

Someone who, right now, is sleeping, pressed tightly against my back, breathing softly against the nape of my neck.

Half-asleep, I somehow convince myself it’s my Max. I snuggle closer, rubbing against his body, sinking into the familiar warmth until my gaze catches a tattoo on the arm wrapped around me.

I jolt, heart racing.

Instinctively, I jerk away from him so fast I almost fall off the bed, freezing in place when Max mumbles something in his sleep.

Reality crashes down on me in a blinding, brutal flash.

Panic floods me.

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