Mac’s face twisted up at that. “Why the hell would I do that? They’re adults and can form their own opinions. Seriously, what the fuck, dude?”
“Really? I had absolutely no reason to worry about it? Asshole.”
“Douche.”
He cracked a smile, and I couldn’t help but do the same. I hadn’t realized how childish we sounded before. No wonder Maxim found it more amusing than anything.
“So, what? Are we gonna fuckin’ hug it out now or something?”
“Watch it, Remington Steele,” he quipped and poked me in the shoulder with two fingers. “Go save Maxim. Bryan and I were only able to keep the Axe-Man away for a few minutes.” With that, he left, and I set my sights on the only guy in the room who mattered.
Twelve
Maxim
“That kid really likes you, huh?” Remy asked with a wry smile.
I shrugged. “Axel likes everyone.”
“I didn’t see him hanging off of everyone.”
That couldn’t be jealousy tinging Remy’s words. Why would he be? “He hasn’t seen me in a while, that’s all.”
He huffed. “If you insist.”
“When did you find this little escape?” Remy had dragged us to a small supply closet off of the kitchen after he’d made up an excuse for Axel and the guys. Apparently, he’d needed help finding the restroom.
“I passed Bryan on my way to you and asked if there was somewhere private I could take you.”
“That… sounds suggestive.”
He raised a brow and cocked his head toward me. “Is that so? I promise I had the purest of intentions, but I’d love to scuff up the knees on these new jeans.”
Nope. I didn’t give the thought enough traction to visualize it. There was absolutely no way we were doing that here. I shook my head and counted backward from one thousand in multiples of seven for a distraction.
“Aw, come on.” Remy pushed off of the shelf he was leaning against and stepped between my legs. “You don’t want me?”
“Nine hundred fifty-eight,” I mumbled with my eyes closed.
His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me flush against him. It was impossible to miss the press of his hard cock against my thigh. Nine hundred thirty-seven.
“One last chance, Max. Say the word and I’m yours.”
I opened my eyes, and he was grinning at me like a fool. “You’re a bastard.”
Remy broke into a full body laugh that shook his shoulders while I clenched my teeth and tried not to smile too much. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m only fucking with you. I know you’d never want to disrespect your friends like that.”
“You really sold it with the hard-on,” I said as I slumped back against the door, more than a little relieved.
“Yeah, well, that just kinda happened. I saw the opportunity and rolled with it. What was that nine hundred thing you said?”
“I was counting backwards from one thousand to stop myself from thinking about… what you were proposing.” God, it sounded so ridiculous aloud. My cheeks grew warm thinking about it.
“You’re adorable. So fucking adorable.” He rose up on his toes and kissed me chastely, then dropped back down and returned to leaning against the shelf full of cleaning supplies. “There was something I did want to say to you.”
My head perked up, and I watched him scratch the raven tattoo on his neck.
“Thanks for not letting me bail on tonight. I got a little antsy before we left, but I’m glad I came. It’s kinda nice—really nice actually. No one here knows me, and they seem like really good people.” Despite his words, Remy looked almost sad.
“Did something happen?”
“No, I mean it. You have great friends. I, ah, came to an understanding of sorts with Mac. I wouldn’t say we’ll be best buds or anything, but I don’t have to worry about him knocking me out either.”
That made me chuckle. “He never would have done that. I’m glad to hear—”
I was cut off by muffled voices yelling, counting down from ten. I locked eyes with Remy, and he rolled his shoulders and tipped his head back.
“Come get me.”
In two strides I was on him. I hoisted him up and stepped away from the shelf. What was physical strength for if not to impress your lover occasionally?
Lover. Was Remy really my lover now?
Before I could think too much about it, he wrapped one hand around the back of my neck and cupped my cheek with the other. He leaned down to kiss me as the count reached one, then cheers and clapping erupted followed by the distinct pops from bottles of champagne.
“Happy New Year, Max.”
“Happy New Year.”
Remy grinned, then nipped the tip of my nose before placing a quick kiss on my scar. “Let’s go get some bubbly before everyone thinks you fucked the shit out of me in here.”
I groaned and set Remy down; there wouldn’t be anything I could say to convince Macalister that that hadn’t happened.
January flew by way too fast. Remy and I had a comfortable rhythm, and I was getting stronger every week. My doctor and physical therapist gave me the okay to start light weightlifting with my right arm, which I couldn’t have been happier about. I’d lost enough muscle mass in my arm to have it be noticeable, especially when I was shirtless. Regaining that body symmetry was high on my list of priorities, and I was committed to doing it safely.
Besides, Remy wouldn’t let me reinjure myself, no matter how much better the sex would be once my shoulder was back at one hundred percent. In two more months I’d be able to resume my pre-surgery routine. Another month or two after that—and a cleaner diet than what I’d been eating with Rem—and I should be perfect. Almost.
I ghosted my fingers over my scar as I stared at my reflection in a mirror in the gym locker room. Remy had insisted I stay clean shaven and had more often than not been the one to shave me. I couldn’t say it wasn’t a highly arousing experience, but it also terrified me. Anytime Remy paid close attention to my face, it unnerved me. That was multiplied exponentially when he sat in my lap and shaved my face. There was no way he couldn’t see that mar—everyone could see it now—and knowing that overwhelmed me at times.
Remy somehow always knew, and he did his best to take my mind off of it. But he wasn’t always around. Right now, for instance. He was visiting his sister and there I was, studying my scar, growing more insecure with every passing second.
I had two listings saved that I’d planned on looking at today while I was alone, though all I wanted now was to go home and hide.
I was still slicing carrots into stars for Remy’s favorite dish when I heard the lock on the door turn. The thuds from his heavy boots being toed off followed immediately after the door closed and was locked behind him.
“Maxim? Are you here?”
“Kitchen,” I replied conversationally. The apartment was silent aside from me chopping vegetables. The rice had already been cooked and was now cooling to make it easier to fry later.
Remy entered the kitchen then flipped on the light. “Hey. What’re you doing in the dark?”
“What?”
“All of the lights in the apartment are off. I only guessed you might be here because I could smell food.”
Huh. I looked around while I searched for an answer. I couldn’t exactly say I hadn’t noticed the dark because I was languishing over something I rationally knew was just a scar. Many people had them, yet mine was so much more than just a scar. It was the source of my insecurity and fear, and having it on display made me feel like I was drowning sometimes.
I couldn’t fix it, and now I couldn’t hide it.
“There’s light from the window,” I managed to say.
“It’s been cloudy as shit all day, Max. Are you okay?” His forehead was creased in concern, and I hated that I’d caused him to worry.
“It’s nothing important. I went to the store after the gym, and I’m just tired. I’m making your favorite.” I looked and now that the li
ght was on, noticed that some of my stars were crooked. I set the paring knife down and hummed as I picked up the worst of the lot. “Maybe it was a bit dark.”
“So you did—go to the store, I mean,” he said wistfully. He crossed his arms and his gaze lowered from mine. “Your rehabilitation has been coming along right on schedule.”
I nodded, unsure where he was going with this.
“You don’t really need my help anymore.”
“What?”
Remy still wouldn’t look up and meet my gaze. “I mean, your shoulder is healed enough for you to do just about everything on your own now. You don’t need me.”
“Of course I do.”
“No, you don’t. Truthfully, you haven’t since the sling came off. All I’ve been doing since then is costing you money, and—”
“Remy, stop. I don’t want you around just because you’re helping me—you have to know that.”
He shrugged as if he didn’t believe me, and I felt like I’d been struck in the solar plexus. Had I not shown him how much he meant to me?
“I’ve wanted you here because I love you. I always have, and I always will. I want you to stay here with me, not because I need your help, but because I need you.”
He flinched at that and looked pained. It dawned on me then that we might not want the same things. Remy had told me we couldn’t go back to the way our relationship was, and I’d told him I understood. What if he didn’t want to stay? Remy was having some money problems, and surely being here with me—away from his actual life—wasn’t helping. I wanted him to stay, but I hadn’t considered that he might want to go back to his home. As much as I wished that to be here with me, perhaps it wasn’t.
I deflated, shrinking back against the counter. “Unless you want to go back to your life. I’m sorry for not considering that. I know you said you didn’t want to us to be like we were, but I’d hoped you might change your mind. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“Shit,” he mumbled. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Max, please listen to me. You weren’t wrong about us, okay? I don’t want…” He reached for me but stopped and pulled back, his gaze dropping. His eyes darted from the floor to me, then back to the floor while his fingers fiddled with a loose piece of thread on his ripped jeans. He looked so broken up, and I ached to ease his mind, but I had to be careful. Remy could run, and who knew if I’d ever see him again this time.
With my own issues pushed aside, I tried to sound calm and collected before the conflicted man just out of arm’s reach. “What don’t you want?”
Remy shook his head and his foot began to tap. “I haven’t been honest with you.”
“I know.”
“About a lot of things.”
I grabbed a dishcloth hanging from the stove behind me and wiped my hands. “Let’s go sit down, Rem.”
He nodded and let me lead him to the couch where we sat facing each other. Remy sat with one leg folded under him and the other on the floor. His knee bounced as soon as his foot touched the laminate.
“I’ve fuckin’ lied about everything,” he blurted out.
Ignoring every fiber of my being, I kept my fingers threaded in my lap instead of reaching out for him. Seeing Remy in distress was harder than anything I’d felt for myself. His ticking jaw told me he was contemplating what more to say, so I let him think.
“I don’t have anything in LA to go back to. I lost it all months ago because I’m a fucking disaster, Max. Shit,” he hissed, chewing on his thumbnail.
I gently pulled his hand away from his mouth and held it in both of mine, rubbing my thumb over the inside of his wrist.
“I didn’t lie to you about being on Instagram. I had a following, and I did have sponsors—more than I needed to maintain my wasteful lifestyle. I partied a lot. Not just booze, but drugs too.” He glanced up at me, searching. He’d find no judgment in my eyes. “Nothing too hard—just some coke and X socially. It got out of hand one night at some party for some fucking event. The guy I was with kept giving me bumps, and I—” His voice cracked, and he looked away from me. “I was so fucking wasted, and I let myself be recorded while several guys took turns fucking me. I honestly don’t remember a thing from that night, but I’ve seen the video. The guy I went to the party with fucking set me up. I-I’ve done enough blow to know how I react. Whatever happened that night wasn’t from that.”
I inhaled sharply and felt my stomach flip. “You were drugged.”
“I think so.” His bottom lip quivered, and he chewed it absently while a tear rolled down his cheek. “I know I’m hardly innocent in this scenario, and I should have known better. Trusting him—”
“No. Do not blame yourself for that. Someone drugged you, love. Anything that happened after that wasn’t your fault, and it definitely was not consensual.”
“I shouldn’t have trusted him.”
More tears fell, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I scooped Remy up and pulled him into my lap with his back against my chest. I held him tightly in part to convince myself that he was safe. So long as he was mine, I’d never let any harm come to him.
“I’m not the innocent victim, Max. I’ve done stuff like that before while I was high, and sometimes when I wasn’t. It just feels so good to hurt sometimes. I guess that makes me pretty fucked up, huh?” he asked, his tone dripping with bitterness.
“That’s different, love. You made a choice those other times. That was taken from you. I know how that feels.”
“I know you do, babe.” He sniffled and cleared his throat, reining in his emotions. “There’s more. The guy I went with was the one who’d recorded me. He blackmailed me for one hundred grand, and I paid him like a fucking fool. The best part is that he posted the video anyway. I called home in a panic to get the lawyer’s number as soon as I saw it on Twitter. This asshole only had a few hundred followers, so it wasn’t retweeted too many times before it was taken down.
“Enough people saw it, though. About a week later, clips and screenshots started coming in daily. Word finally got to my sponsors, and my contracts were canceled. You know, because I’d breached all of the fucking morality clauses. I couldn’t even deny it. My fucking tattoos gave me away.” His chest heaved under my arms in a heavy sigh. “I deactivated my account after that. It became nothing but a source of toxicity, and I was already panicking enough about the rest of my life.”
I ran my fingers through his silky hair, noting how much the natural light brown roots had grown in since he’d first arrived. It had only been three short months since I’d woken up with him sleeping at my bedside, yet so much had changed in my life.
“Without income I couldn’t keep up with my rent. I had some savings, but not much after I paid that fucking bastard. I got evicted and was staying with a friend for a while. Then I was introduced to a man named Stanley.”
Remy said the man’s name with so much venom. It pained me to think of why; though not as much as I feared the actual explanation would.
He sunk down lower until his head was in my lap and one bent knee was resting against the back of the couch. “He basically owned me. I lived in his house, he bought me whatever I wanted, gave me an allowance, and in return I was his to do with as he pleased. His little rentboy fuck-toy—at my age, can you believe it?” he asked with a sad smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
I brushed his hair back from his forehead and continued to stroke it, hoping it’d offer him some comfort. Remy had been through so much more than I’d imagined. So much more than he’d deserved.
“If you’re wondering why I didn’t come back after the shit hit the fan, you’re not alone. I had it in my head that I’d rather be homeless than accept my parents’ conditional support. All that bullshit about wanting freedom to make my own mistakes. Then what did I do? I made myself a slave to a rich asshole who only cared about appearances and superficial shit. Sound familiar?” Remy drew a heart around his face with his index fingers. “You’re lookin’ at the face of hypocrisy.”
&nbs
p; “Rem—”
“I stole from him too. I’m a liar and a thief.”
“Why?”
“I was at his house in Palm Springs when the hospital called. I was… planning on leaving. When I heard you were in an accident, I dropped everything and came here. I had no money of my own, so I stole Stan’s AmEx. He canceled it before you were discharged. Oh, he’s the one who cut off my phone too.”
My hand stilled at that. “You found out at the doctor’s office, didn’t you? Two months ago.”
He closed his eyes and nodded. “I shouldn’t have lied to you about any of it. I just didn’t know how to admit it to you.”
“Why are you telling me now?”
“I hate lying to you, Max.” Remy’s eyes welled with tears that refused to fall. “It fucking eats at me, and makes me feel even worse about myself, but that’s not the main reason. You deserve better… you make me want to be better. I just don’t know if I can be. I’ve spent so long spinning further and further out of control, and I can see the end.”
“The end?”
“Never mind that. I’m just rambling now. All I’m trying to say is that I’m not the person you used to know. I’m not the guy who’s worthy of your love and affection. That guy has been dead for years. I’m just… whatever the fuck is left.”
His lids grew heavy with resignation, and I finally understood how broken the man in my arms was. Just like his favorite jeans, Remy was fraying at the seams. One wrong tug and he felt like he’d unravel. He didn’t value himself, and his dealings with family and the people he’d trusted and considered friends had only exacerbated that. He might not even truly believe in my feelings for him, and I couldn’t blame him for it.
“Listen to me, love. I meant every word I said to you earlier, and I still do.”
He sat up and his eyes widened. “How could you? I just told you that I was a fucking whore on top of already being a dishonest, vapid person with nothing. Fuck, Max, I have less than nothing.”
Somebody to Love (Crazy Little Thing Book 3) Page 11