Page 145 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
“Who drink their coffee black without any stupid syrup in it, just like me. Who get genuinely excited about proper procedure. Who get this smug, satisfied little smile when they solve something particularly clever.”
“I do not have a smug smile!”
“You absolutely do. Don’t worry, it’s somehow ridiculously attractive. Along with how your glasses fall down your nose when you’re frowning too much. And the way you pretend to find my jokes annoying when I can literally feel through the bond now that you think I’m hilarious.”
Maxwell’s hand came up to cover mine, pressing it more firmly against his face. “Anything else?”
“Oh, loads more. The way you care so much about doing the right thing that it actually causes you physical pain sometimes. How you could use your telepathy for evil, but you try not to invade our minds. Oh, and the fact that you dropped everything to drive to bloody Scotland with me, because I needed you to. Even though you could barely stand me at the time.”
I paused, studying his face in the torchlight.
“Even if you are an unsociable, grumpy bastard who has refused to ever hang out with us.”
“I haven’t refused to ever hang out with Killigrew Street,” said Maxwell quietly. “You just barely invite me to anything.”
“You don’t have to be personally invited, you know,” I said, my hand still pressed against his cheek. “You’re one of us.”
Maxwell’s laugh was harsh. “No I’m not. I’m someone Killigrew Street contacts when they need something. A resource.”
I inhaled sharply. Was that really how he felt? “Maxwell, we don’t see you that way at all! Anyway… it doesn’t have to be that way. When we get back to London, we can all go to the pub together. You can come to our monthly quiz night—finally we’ll have someone who can cheat properly instead of Priya sneaking off to the bathroom to google the answers.”
Maxwell rolled his eyes. “They won’t want me there. You’re not the only one who gets bothered by my telepathy, you know. They all think about it, every time I’m in the room. I’ve heard them.”
The pain in his voice made my chest ache. I could feel the weight of it—years of isolation, of being treated like some kind of walking invasion of privacy.
“If I’m there, it’s just a worse experience for everyone. They can’t relax, can’t be themselves. They’re constantly monitoring their thoughts, trying not to think about whatever they don’t want me to know.” His voice cracked slightly. “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is? Pretending I haven’t heard someone’s private thoughts? Acting like I don’t know they’re uncomfortable?”
I could see it now, the careful distance he maintained from everyone. How he’d perfected that professional mask to keep people at arm’s length before they could reject him.
“It’s not just Killigrew Street. It’s stopped me from bothering with most friendships, in general,” he continued, staring out at the dark water. “I block as much as I can, but things slip through. The lies, the fakeness, when they actually can’t stand me but are being polite. How do you build genuine relationships when you know exactly what people really think of you?”
Oh, how my heart broke for him. I shifted closer, our knees touching now.
“But you know,” I said softly, “you’ve got ready-made friends right at your fingertips at Killigrew Street. They already know about your telepathy! Surely that makes it easier?”
“Does it?”
“They’ll get used to it, after a while. Like I have.”
Maxwell did one of his frowns that slipped down his glasses. “What doyou mean?”
“It doesn’t bother me at all anymore.” I shrugged, feeling the truth of it settle between us. “I quite like it. Actually, Ilovethe bonus applications.”
“Rory…”
“What? The sex thing is brilliant. No guesswork. Maximum fun.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“And you love it.” I grinned at him. “Also, Priya was gutted you didn’t show up for the Killigrew Street Christmas party. She’d made you a hat and everything.”
The space between us grew charged, heavy with something that strangely made my heart pound.
Maxwell took a deep breath. “I did show.”
“What? You didn’t.”
“I came in through the street entrance. The basement door was unlocked that day, propped open.” His voice dropped, and he removed my hand from his face. “And then I heard you. Talking about me. So I turned around and left.”
