The laughter faded a little when they reached a quiet corner of the carnival. There was an old ring-toss stall, its paint faded, the prizes smaller. Max stopped in his tracks, his expression shifting.
"What's wrong? Did you just see the ghost of your bank account floating away?" she teased, tilting her head to follow his gaze.
Max didn't answer right away. Althea raised a brow. "What? Do you have beef with tin cans or something?"
He let out a short breath, half a laugh, half something else. "It's… nothing. Just—" He shoved his hands in his pockets, clearly debating whether to tell her.
Althea, of course, wasn't letting that slide. "Oh no. Don't you dare give me the 'nothing' line. That's my line. Spill it, Velasco."
Max's lips quirked, but his eyes stayed on the stall. "Adrian and I… we used to come here. A long time ago. Before everything."
Her smile faltered a little, curiosity replacing the teasing. "You two… together?"
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I must've been… eight? Nine? He was twelve. He always picked that game. Always won. Every. Damn. Time."
Althea blinked at the rare curse slipping out so casually, but stayed quiet, letting him go on.
"He'd win these little prizes; stuffed animals, plastic watches, whatever they had that year. And once… he gave me the prize. I didn't even want it. I was mad, you know? Like, he was always better. Always. And when he gave me a stupid turtle plush, it felt like pity."
His jaw tightened slightly, though his tone was steady. "But… I kept it. For years. I never told him, but I kept it on my shelf until I was old enough to pretend that I didn't care anymore."
Althea's chest warmed at the confession, though she masked it with a soft smile. "So… let me get this straight. You kept your brother's pity turtle."
Max gave her a look, though his lips twitched. "Don't call it that."
She grinned. "Pity turtle. That's adorable. Max Velasco, sentimental hoarder."
He shook his head, chuckling now, but there was a trace of something raw in his eyes. "You don't get it. Adrian was… larger than life. He still is, sometimes. I hated losing to him, hated being the little brother trailing behind. But… I also wanted him to notice me. And when he handed me, it felt like… like he did."
The laughter in Althea's throat softened into something gentler. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed her fingers against his arm. "You know… maybe it wasn't pity. Maybe he just wanted to share his win with you."
Max looked at her, as if weighing her words, and for a moment, the carnival noise around them faded. His mouth opened, then closed again, as though he wanted to argue but couldn't find the fight.
Finally, he smirked faintly. "You're way too good at making me sound less tragic."
She smirked back. "That's my job. I take payment in cash."
Max laughed, shaking his head as if she'd ruined the moment on purpose, and maybe she had, but only to make sure he didn't sink too deep into it. Still, the image lingered in her mind: little Max, clutching a turtle plush he pretended not to care about, secretly treasuring it because it came from his brother.
Althea wanted to say something else to bridge that gap between the memory and the man in front of her. But before she could, the sun seemed to press down harder on her, the air thickening.
She stumbled slightly. Max caught her elbow instantly. "Althea?"
"I'm fine," she muttered, though her vision was blurring. The heat was relentless, a pounding against her temples.
Then everything tilted. Her knees buckled. The lopsided duck slipped from her arms.
Max's voice cracked, panicked, "Althea!" as he caught her before she hit the ground.
He knelt, cradling her against him, his usual composure completely shattered. "Hey—hey, wake up. Come on, Althea. You're okay. You're okay, right? Please—"
His words tumbled out in frantic rushes, raw fear etched across his face. He fumbled for water, for shade, anything, his hands trembling as he brushed her hair back.
Her lashes fluttered, and she groaned softly. Relief hit him like a tidal wave. "Oh, thank God. Don't do that to me," he whispered hoarsely.
Her lips curved faintly, weak but teasing. "…You're… panicking."
Max froze, then scowled in disbelief. "Of course I'm panicking! You just fainted, Althea! Do you think that's funny?"
She let out a faint chuckle. "A little."
He stared at her, torn between throttling her and hugging her tight. "Unbelievable. You scare me half to death and then joke about it."
Her smile softened as her hand brushed his arm, grounding him. "But… you cared."
"Of course I care," he said fiercely, his voice low. His eyes met hers, no teasing, no mask, just raw sincerity. "Don't ever doubt that."
The air between them shifted again, heavier now, charged with something unspoken.
But then Althea, ever unwilling to let it settle, whispered, "So… about that plush. Do I still get it?"
Max blinked. Then, despite himself, he laughed, pressing a hand over his face. "You're impossible."
"Yet," she murmured, leaning against him with a small smile, "you're still dealing with me."
And he did, holding her carefully, as though she were the most important prize he could never afford to lose.
End of Chapter 53.