I didn’t go to university like Maxim did—I’d barely even graduated from high school. Without my family’s name behind me, I was pretty fucking sure I’d have been expelled. At thirty-two, I almost considered myself lucky that someone would want to essentially be my sugar daddy—and wasn’t that just fucked up? Had I been younger I could have charged more, though the money was still decent. That type of lifestyle had an expiration date, and I hadn’t planned on being around to reach it.
As I prepared a simple dinner of roasted veggies and pan-fried steak in the cast iron skillet—apparently that mattered—I tried not to think of what I was doing as lying to Maxim. Those unnecessary details wouldn’t help him get better any faster, so what was the point? It wasn’t exactly something I wanted to advertise, either.
The pain in Maxim’s shoulder kept getting worse. For the better part of a week it’d kept him up at night, which meant I was up too. He tried to pretend he was sleeping, though I could tell the difference. Lying was always my game, not his.
I felt helpless watching him in pain day after day. While we were having supper a few hours ago, I tried to convince him to take his pills, though I knew he wouldn’t—and he didn’t. Things had been awkward after that, and Maxim didn’t say another word to me other than his thanks for me cooking and a good night when we got in bed. I knew he was caught up in his thoughts, and trying to deal with the pain, so I tried not to take his silence as a punishment.
When his harsh breathing gave way to a whimper, I reached my limit. “Enough.” I pushed the blankets off, then rolled out of bed, headed straight for Maxim’s pills. I turned on the light and tore into the paper bag with his pills.
Maxim sat up with a wince. “Remy, what are you—”
“No.” I found the right bottle and shook two tablets into my palm. “I can’t lie there while you’re suffering needlessly. Take the pills. I’ll look after you.” He shook his head and looked away, but I caught his chin and turned him back toward me. There was real fear in his eyes, and it broke my heart when I remembered why.
The first time I’d convinced him to come to one of my parties in high school, some asshole had roofied him. I found him before things escalated too far and had locked us both in my room for the rest of the night. When he’d woken up the next morning, he had no recollection of being drugged and escorted to one of the guest rooms. I had the awful burden of relaying what I knew had happened, and God, I wished I didn’t have to tell him. I could have told him he’d drunk too much too fast, and he’d have believed me. But I’d told him the truth, and it terrified him. His memory of that night never returned, which I thought only made it worse for him.
I softened my approach and stroked my thumb along his jaw. “Do you still trust me at all?”
His brow furrowed, but he nodded. “Yes.”
“Then please take the pills, Max. I know you’re scared of not being in control, and I understand why. You can trust me to keep you safe just like I used to.” I waited with bated breath, unsure of what I’d do if he said no again. Relief washed through me when he took the pills from my hand. That sad, scared look was still clear on his face, but he trusted me anyway. He tossed the pills back, and I brought the glass of water to his lips. When I set the glass down, I wanted to kiss his dampened lips and tell him everything would be all right—whether I believed it or not. Instead, I motioned for him to scoot over, and crawled in bed next to him. I held my arm out for him and then carefully pulled him into an embrace, shielding him. Protecting him.
The next few days were an improvement from a pain perspective, though Maxim was definitely out of sorts as a side effect. He wasn’t steady enough on his feet to shower alone, which we discovered only after he’d almost wiped out. I’d tried to help him while staying out of the enclosed shower, which ended in a soaking wet disaster. The showerhead wasn’t one of those ones you could extend, so it made the experience a hell of a lot harder than it needed to be. The next day, I’d gotten in with him, though I left my boxers on in hopes they would help remind me that I was there to help him, and nothing else.
I stayed close to him as much as I could, especially during the hours when the medication affected him most. He didn’t have to ask me—and he never would—because I already knew. Drowsiness was another side effect that hit Maxim hard. The hours he spent asleep were utterly boring for me, though I was glad he was finally able to get more rest. I was staring at the blank TV screen when a knock at the door surprised me and made me jump.
I checked the peephole and banged my head against the door with a groan after I saw Mr. Blond Ambition himself on the other side of the door.
“I know you’re in there,” Mac said from the hall. “My knocks are only going to get progressively louder and more obnoxious until you open up, dude.”
Knowing Maxim would want me to, I opened the door, then went back to the couch and sat down, leaving it up to him whether or not he followed me. Unfortunately he did.
“Where’s Maxim?”
I nodded toward the hall, not taking my eyes off of the black TV screen. “Asleep.”
“Has he been asleep for the last week and a half? I’ve been trying to reach him.” His hands were on his hips and he had this indignant look on his face. His entire existence annoyed me.
“Gee, I don’t know, it’s almost like he’s recovering from surgery or something.”
“Dick,” he muttered.
“Douche.” I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away from him. We stayed locked in silence, as if it were a competition that I had no intention of losing.
“God, you’re the worst,” Mac finally said.
“Should I pass a message on for you, or something?”
Mac came closer to the couch and dropped down next to me, which struck me as odd. “Drop the attitude, Remington Steele.” I cringed but didn’t interrupt him. “How has he been?”
“In pain. He wouldn’t take his meds for the first few days.”
“And he is now?”
“Yeah. They make him tired, hence the”—I checked the time on my phone—“eleven o’clock nap. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
He shrugged. “I work from home. Don’t change the subject. How did you get him to take the pills?”
“I asked him to trust me.”
Mac sighed, then shook his head. “Of course he still trusts you,” he muttered. “I should have guessed that. You were always his weakness.” He grinned at me, though there was no joy in the expression. “I don’t know why you’re really here, and frankly I don’t care. All that matters to me is that you don’t fuck with Maxim. He’s too good for your bullshit, and I won’t see you hurt him again.”
“Is this the part where you tell me you’ll kill me if I break his heart?”
“Not at all. I won’t kill you, but I will break your nose.” He stood up and walked around the couch toward the door. “He deserves better than you.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek until I tasted iron, then swallowed it down. “I know he does. I’m not here to fuck with him, or start things back up.”
“Then why come back at all?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
I stood up and looked him in the eye when I spoke. “I’m selfish, and I wanted to see him again.”
“That’s it, huh?”
I shrugged and squared my shoulders. “It’s the SparkNotes version.”
He snorted. “SparkNotes—you would. Please tell Maxim I stopped by. And to check his damn phone so I know he’s alive.” He opened the door, then stepped out, and I followed to the threshold.
“I’ll pass it on. Goodbye, Macalister,” I replied as I closed the door in the middle of him cursing me blue. I leaned against the door and listened to his angry footsteps fading down the hall. As much as I disliked that guy, I was grateful Maxim had him. Mac had been there for him when I wasn’t, and I could never truly hate him because of it.
When Maxim came down the hall about an hour later, I was so lost in my thoughts that I did
n’t notice him until the couch dipped next to me. I was caught up in a moment from a lifetime ago when I’d made the worst decision of my life, then followed it up with the hardest. In one night, I’d destroyed my life with Maxim because I was weak and careless.
“Are you okay? You look upset.”
I nodded and put on my best smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Mac dropped by a little bit ago.”
“That explains why you’re upset.”
“Nah, it was fine. He was checking in on you. Apparently you haven’t been adequately meeting Ken Doll’s demands for communication.”
Maxim huffed a laugh, then leaned back into the couch. “Dubhlainn told me to ignore him while I recuperated. He said he’d keep Macalister at bay for as long as he could.”
“Who is that? Dove… what did you say?”
“Dubhlainn. It’s an Irish name. He’s Macalister’s boyfriend.”
I narrowed my eyes at Maxim while the words tried to penetrate. “Um, excuse me?” Maxim sighed at me and rolled his eyes. I understood clear enough it was him saying something along the lines of “you heard me—don’t be immature.” “You’ll have to give me a minute with this. Since when?”
“Probably forever. He only realized it when he met Dubhlainn.”
“Fucking hell. I knew that bastard wasn’t straight. He played up the slutty jock way too much.”
Maxim chuckled and bumped his knee into mine. “Calm down, Remy. Bisexuality exists, you know.”
“Ugh, he would.”
“Remy,” Maxim warned.
“It’s not everyone, it’s just him.”
“Yes, love.” He closed his eyes and started to drift again. He must have taken a dose before he came out. Had he been conscious and lucid, he’d have noticed the slip, but I didn’t mind. Maxim used to call me love more than anything, and it felt good to hear it again, even if it was only because of the drugs. It made me feel like I was still his and that I hadn’t fucked everything up. The fantasy was superficial at best. Nothing could erase the emptiness I felt from being away from the guy I loved most for so long, and worse, knowing it had been the result of my own actions.
I wasn’t that same person anymore—I was worse. Lower morals, lower standards, and no integrity. My love for Maxim and my self-loathing were the only things to remain unchanged over the years. My shallow life had nothing to do with my environment, and everything to do with my heart being left behind, along with a smooth, gold band that once served as a promise—a promise I’d broken before I ever even had the chance to officially make it.
Mac didn’t know just how spot-on he was; I truly was the worst.
Six
Maxim
It turned out that Macalister wasn’t the only person who’d been trying to reach me. When I finally checked my phone, I had several concerned voicemails from my supervisor. I’d completely forgotten to call him and let him know I was all right. One of the guys on my crew must have filled him in because he had details about the accident and told me to call him when I felt up to it.
I returned his call, and we booked a meeting for the following morning. I mentioned in passing that I wasn’t going to take any pills prior to the meeting, which Remy apparently didn’t agree with. We fought over it until we reached a compromise that I’d take half of the normal dosage, and he’d come with me. I normally wouldn’t have wanted a babysitter, but Remy never made it feel like that.
On the morning of the appointment, my head felt thick, though I wasn’t nearly as disoriented as I’d have been with a full dose. The lower dose also meant more pain, though it was bearable enough. Remy and I took the train and arrived ten minutes ahead of schedule. He stayed back in the lobby while I went out back, greeting a few colleagues on my way to my supervisor’s office. Roger Braddock’s door was already open, but I still knocked.
“Come on in, Maxim. Close the door behind you.”
I sat down in one of the wooden chairs in front of Braddock’s desk. His office was small and looked disorganized, yet I knew from experience that the middle-aged man before me was anything but. I met his gaze and sat up straight out of respect, despite the fact that it made my shoulder scream.
“I’m terribly sorry about not calling sooner, sir.”
He waved a hand in front of me, dismissing my apology. “No need. You could have died—I understand you taking some time to deal with that. How is your shoulder?”
I actively had to remind myself not to just shrug. “There was ligament damage. I’ll have to do physical therapy to regain my range of motion and rebuild strength, but I should make a full recovery.”
Braddock sighed and nodded, seemingly relieved. “That’s good, son. I can’t wait to have you back.”
“I can come back early if you need me. I can’t do much in the way of physical work, though I’m sure there’s something—”
He held a hand up and shook his head. “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m guessing part of what you have to tell me today is that you’re on work restrictions.”
“Yes.”
“Which is exactly why you’re not coming back until you’re medically cleared. Take the time you need to get better. You never take vacation time, and I know this isn’t exactly a vacation, but try to relax. Your job will be here for you when you come back, Maxim.” I nodded. Braddock clicked the end of his pen a few times before he tossed it on the spread-out papers. “Have you contacted workers’ comp yet?”
“No,” I answered, shifting uncomfortably.
“Why the hell not?”
“I thought it would be a good idea to speak to you first. I want to be as transparent as possible.” That, and I didn’t want Braddock to think ill of me. I wanted to return to my job when this was over.
“I appreciate that, but you didn’t have to wait. You should give them a call today. I’d even recommend a workers’ comp lawyer to ensure you reach a fair settlement with the insurance company. You did a brave thing and probably saved the kid’s life. Don’t feel guilty about calling them.”
“How is William doing?” I hadn’t seen him since the accident, though none of the messages from Braddock mentioned he’d been injured.
“He’s good. He sprained his thumb when he hit the ground, but he’s fine. He’s here, actually—was lookin’ to speak with you.”
“I’d like that.”
“I’ll page him—tell him to go to the lobby. Don’t need you wandering around the back with all the equipment and supplies.” He smiled and he winked at me, and I knew our meeting was done.
I stood, cradling my injured arm. “I’ll have my family doctor fax over all necessary documentation after I’ve booked an appointment.” Braddock wasn’t big on goodbyes—which served me just as well—so I turned to leave.
“One more thing, Maxim.”
“Yes, sir?” I asked, looking back at him.
“I want you think about my offer some more. You can have a good future with this company if you want it.” With that, he resumed his work, and I left.
William was pacing in the lobby when I returned. Remy was side-eying him and his knee was bouncing wildly, though he kept quiet. They both set eyes on me as I approached, and Remy’s knee stilled. “Maxim—fuck, man, I’m so sorry,” William said in a rush.
The blue splint on his hand immediately caught my attention, and I felt guilty for having hurt him. “I’m all right. I apologize about your thumb. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Remy snorted a laugh, and William stared at me blankly.
“Fuck my thumb—I’d probably be dead if you hadn’t intervened. Thank you. Thank you so much. I won’t be so careless again.”
I smiled at him, then nodded and patted him on the shoulder before going to see Remy. I heard William head out back while I studied Remy’s amused expression. “What’s so funny?”
“You, Max. You got fucking impaled by a steel pole saving that guy, and you just apologized for accidentally hurting his thumb. You’re adorable.” Remy climbed to his feet w
ith that grin firmly in place. He patted my chest then headed for the door. “Come on, big guy. Where to next?”
At Braddock’s suggestion, we went to see a lawyer for a consult. She seemed to have a thorough understanding of workers’ compensation cases and spoke of settlements, maximum medical improvement, and temporary total disability—it was a lot. Remy did nearly all of the talking for me, and I ended up retaining her services. The next step was to book an appointment with my doctor and call workers’ compensation, but first I wanted to take Remy out for lunch as thanks.
Remy spent most of the drive looking out the window, occasionally glancing at me to ask about new shops and restaurants. When we drove through Chinatown, headed toward the South Side, Remy’s looks my way lingered and a small crease formed on his forehead. Our cab pulled up in front of Ricobene’s on West Twenty-Sixth, and I wondered if bringing him to our old date spot had been a horrible idea.
My foster parents lived in this area, so Remy and I used to frequent the place every week, whether it was just for a quick slice. Sometimes pizza at nine in the morning was the answer—especially when you were sixteen and didn’t want to go home. We’d continued going there at least once a week up until Remy…
“Holy fucking hell. This place is still open?”
I nodded to Remy, paid the driver, then we got out of the car and headed inside the brick storefront. It was before eleven, and there were plenty of spots to sit thankfully.
“Jesus. Nothing has changed about this place.”
Remy was right. Framed photos and articles adorned the walls and the main space was taken up by small square tables and dark, wooden chairs. We stepped up to order and both got the breaded steak sandwich and fries. Once it was served up, I led us to a table against the wall and nearly gasped when our knees bumped under the table. The smell of the food, his knees bumping mine under the too-small table, his smile…
“Fuck me—this is so good,” Remy said, his words muffled from a rather large bite of his sandwich. “Do you still come here often?”
Somebody to Love (Crazy Little Thing Book 3) Page 4