Damien let out a slow breath.
His pulse steadied—just enough to hear the next thing out of Ethan’s mouth.
“You used to love that sketchy barbecue place by the sidewalk,” he said, smirking. “I’d tease you all the time — told you one day you’d grow a third eye from all the mystery meat you were inhaling. You remember that?”
The table laughed. Light, harmless.
Damien didn’t.
He stared at Ethan instead.
And saw it.
That look.
Want.
Not curiosity. Not fondness.
But that specific, territorial kind of hunger. The kind that reached back. The kind that didn’t care how much had changed. The kind that remembered how she used to laugh when no one else could hear it.
And worst of all?
Maya hadn’t recoiled from it.
She was being polite—too polite. Her grip stayed firmed, but her smile turne
