My chest squeezes. I don’t answer. Maddox tilts his head slightly, studying me. Then his smirk fades. Just a little. He’s been so sure the entire trip, and this is the first time I’ve seen anything that resembles vulnerability. And… I don’t hate it. The idea of him being scared of something—of having a hard past—softens everything between us, and I feel something akin to empathy bloom in my chest. Or perhaps… affection. What the hell?
