Maddox lingers behind, his presence stretching the moment just long enough to make Asher uncomfortable. He already has my bags in his hands, and he winks once at Asher, whose face turns a bright, purple-ish red with rage. Well, this should be fun. I don’t look back again, but I can feel it—the tension crackling between them, an invisible war waged in silence. I don’t want to be a witness to whatever the fuck kind of family drama they’re involved in.
