Neither of them moved.
The house was so quiet Avery could hear the faint tick of the hallway clock. Max stood in front of her, shoulders tense, eyes burning into hers, and she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know if she wanted to breathe.
“I should go to bed,” she said finally, voice low and uneven.
Max gave a stiff nod, stepping back to clear the way to the stairs.
But she didn’t move. Her legs felt like stone. Her heart hammered so loudly she swore he could hear it.
“Avery,” he said softly, and her name in his voice nearly undid her. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she whispered.
“For making you feel like it didn’t matter.”
The ache in her chest cracked open.
“It did matter,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “It still does.”
Avery’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “Then why are we sta
