“What do you fucking mean?” Ryke asks, wiping sweat off his forehead. “He’s in love with him,” Lo retorts. “Farrow is in love with my son.” It sucker-punches my gut. That he could tell at that point in time. Hell, that he’d even acknowledge this out loud. Lounging next to me on a beanbag, Maximoff slides his hand in mine. “You know Moffy is really fucking in love with him too?” “I had no clue,” he says dryly.
