Adam dug his fingers into his own hoodie pocket like he could anchor himself to stubbornness. "I didn't think," he rasped. "I needed food."
"You needed a babysitter," Max corrected.
Adam turned his head enough to glare at him. "I needed groceries."
Max's gaze remained fixed on the street, scanning reflexively for cars, pedestrians, and angles, as if his body was following security protocols even as he argued. "Your manager knows?"
Adam's jaw clenched. "Yes."
"And she let you leave?"
"I didn't tell her I was leaving," Adam admitted, then immediately regretted the honesty as it left his mouth.
Max made a sound that could have been a laugh if it hadn't been so tightly controlled. "Of course you didn't."
Adam's pride flared. "Stop talking like you're in charge of me."
Max's eyes flicked to him, green and cold in the winter light. "I'm in charge of not letting you get dragged into a car by a stranger who calls you 'baby' in public."
Adam opened his mouth—
