Tank POV
It was good that Max managed to eat most of her meal; if Bruiser hadn't come by and said we had to go to the office, I reckon she would have eaten it all. I sigh as I take her plate and finish, knowing she would feel guilty wasting food, and she likes to see me eat a lot. I think I am putting on weight, eating her leftovers.
I knock on the door and look down at Max. She was wringing her hands and staring at the door, like it was going to attack her or something. The door suddenly burst open, and Bruiser was standing on the other side. He pulled the door fully open, moved aside, and motioned for us to enter, his face giving nothing away.
I picked Max up and sat down, keeping her on my lap, my preferred place for her, nice, close, protective, and that action answered a few questi
