Lead Me Not

by A. Meredith Walters

  The rain beat down on the umbrella, pouring in rivulets around us, splashing my shoes and jeans as it hit the ground.

  Brooks shook his head. “I get it, Aubrey. It’s easy to be distracted by something like this. But don’t forget the ugliness underneath. It may be nice to look at, but it’s only paint, and it washes away eventually.”

  Brooks’s metaphors were making my head hurt. But his meaning was crystal freaking clear. If I had wondered about the state of our friendship before, I didn’t now. I could practically taste his disapproval.

  I stepped out from underneath the protection of his umbrella. I looked up into my former friend’s eyes and saw nothing of the kind, compassionate man I used to see.

  “I feel bad for you, Brooks. It’s so easy to criticize what you don’t even try to understand. To pass judgment without looking at what’s really there. I’m sorry if I haven’t lived up to the expectations you had for me. That I disappointed you. But I had to come down off that pedestal eventually.” Brooks opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something, but then shook his head.

  “I’m sorry too, Aubrey,” he said sadly.

  I looked down at the ruined painting again. All that was left was a puddle of color in the grass.

  “You’ll miss out on some amazing things in life if you can’t look past your nose to see the beauty that’s out there in the most unconventional places. And complexity isn’t ugliness. It’s the complication that makes it worth it,” I said softly, turning and walking away.

  I pulled out my phone and tried calling Maxx again. No answer. I was freezing, the tips of my fingers going numb. But I couldn’t go back to my apartment. I couldn’t be on campus.

  There was only one place I belonged. Only one person I needed.

  So I walked the four and a half blocks to find him.

  And when he wasn’t there, I waited.

  I’d always wait for Maxx.

  chapter

  twenty-six

  aubrey

  “why can’t I come with you?” I asked Maxx as I lay naked and tangled up with him in his bed. His fingers stroked up and down my back, making me squirm.

  We had been wrapped up in each other for most of the day. It had been almost a week since we were last together, and when I finally saw him again, there was no explanation for his disappearance. There never was.

  I wanted to be angry with him. I wanted to be upset and sad. But I couldn’t be. Not when he touched me and held me like his life depended on it. Not when my own feelings were jangled and raw from my burst of self-realization.

  I loved Maxx Demelo. I felt it deep in my bones.

  I was bursting with wanting to tell him. To lay my heart at his feet as easily as he had done. I imagined the way his eyes would light up when I told him. I fantasized about his reaction. He would kiss me, make love to me, worship me with his beautiful words.

  But I love you was quickly being swallowed by other things.

  Primarily it was the life he led when we were apart, the life I hated as surely as I loved the man who lived it.

  The need to protect what little hold I had left on my heart rendered me mute. So the words remained unspoken, even as they tattooed their presence on my heart.

  “I won’t be there long. Just a few hours. Why don’t you stay here, just like this? So that when I get home, I can do this,” Maxx replied huskily, rolling me onto my back and fitting himself between my thighs.

  I had learned that Maxx used sex as a way of shutting me up. When I questioned him or expressed concern, he’d flop me on my back and fuck me into silence.

  And while I couldn’t help but enjoy the methods he used to control the direction of our conversations, it was also frustrating.

  So when he pressed the tip of himself between my wet, warm folds, kissing me so that our talk was finished, I resisted.

  I pulled my hips back even as my body begged to join with his. I tore my mouth away and turned my head to the side. I pushed against his chest. “I want to go to Compulsion, Maxx. Please, take me with you,” I pleaded.

  I’m not sure why I was making a big deal about going to the club with him on Saturday. Except that I was tired of spending my weekends wondering what he was doing while he was there, though I didn’t have to imagine too hard to figure it out.

  While he tried really hard to keep the drugs away from me, I knew they were still there. The bitch demanded so much of his time. While he denied his addiction was there at all, it was a constant presence in our relationship. And he gave her, his need for pills, more attention than he gave me.

  I was jealous.

  I was scared.

  Maxx was turning me into a mess of emotions both good and bad. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to help him. Here I was, studying to become an addictions counselor, and I couldn’t do anything for the man I had fallen in love with.

  Every time I had tried to bring up his drug use, he claimed that there wasn’t a problem, that I needed to stop worrying about him. He didn’t see himself the way I did, as a sad, desperate man who had no idea of the destruction he was unleashing on himself. He thought he had it under control. He thought he was in charge. He thought that he could hide the worst of it from me, that I’d never know.

  He was so, so wrong.

  I could tell the difference between the Maxx who was high as a kite and the Maxx in the grips of withdrawal, both of which were starting to occur with more frequency and severity, and the Maxx who fell somewhere in between.

  The two extremes were quickly becoming the only state he lived in. The in-between Maxx was slipping away. I knew he struggled, he hurt, he craved. And though he didn’t use in front of me, not since that time after we went to see his brother, I knew he still spent the majority of his time high.

  I wanted to press him, demand to know the truth, but I was scared to. I knew that if I did, he’d freeze me out, and then I’d never have a chance to help him. So I let myself be quieted, hating that I was allowing it, yet frantic for him all the same. I was letting him use our bodies to make us both forget the truth.

  But I was growing weary of my willful ignorance. I was frustrated with the levels of my own denial. I was sick and tired of turning a blind eye even as Maxx shredded us both.

  I wanted to go to the club with Maxx.

  I had decided that being with him was a hell of a lot better than obsessing about it all alone. All I could think about in those dark hours until I saw him again was whether this would be the time he wouldn’t come home at all. I was afraid that eventually the limits wouldn’t matter and he’d go over the edge.

  Maxx let out an irritated breath and sagged his body, resting his forehead on my collarbone. “Why is it such a big deal to you?” he asked, sounding annoyed. “You’ve been there, and I can tell it’s not your scene.”

  I pushed out from under him and rolled onto my side. I folded my hands beneath my cheek and regarded him steadily. “Because I want to be with you. I hate waiting around for you to come home, wondering what you’re doing,” I explained.

  Maxx folded his arm under his head and looked up at me, lines forming between his eyebrows. “You know what I do there, Aubrey,” he said softly. Yes. I knew what he did at Compulsion. He made money selling drugs to the miserable and hopeless. How could I ever accept this part of him?

  “You don’t want to see that,” he finished, running the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip.

  I kissed his finger before saying, “But I want to be with you.”

  “How can I ever say no to you?” he asked me, smiling. My stomach knotted up at his statement.

  Because it was a lie.

  I didn’t have the power to make him stop using drugs. He’d deny me if I asked him to never sell drugs again. I knew what his response would be if I insisted he stay away from Compulsion and all the temptations it held for him.

  As much as Maxx wanted me, as much as he loved me, my influence went only so far. And he was still saying no to me eac
h and every day.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at nine. I have some stuff to do before then,” Maxx said, wrapping an arm around my waist and dragging me across the bed. “Now can we get back to this?” he asked, picking up my leg and hooking it up and over his hip. He dipped his hand between our bodies.

  “Yes,” I breathed out, followed by a guttural groan as Maxx pushed two fingers inside me. He moved his hand, his mouth conquering mine, and once again I let myself forget.

  “So I’m finally going to meet the mystery man?” Renee asked on Saturday evening. I was getting dressed to go to the club with Maxx. I was a bundle of nerves. This was a big step for us. He was taking me into his world, by his side, where it would be obvious who we were to each other.

  We had gone through the early days of our relationship within the walls of his apartment. We had a connection built in secret. Aside from the day we went sledding, we had spent very little time in public. We had been out to dinner a few times, a movie twice. But the majority of our time was spent in the safety of his home.

  This was taking our relationship out into the open. This was announcing to everyone that he was mine. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

  Because I knew who I’d be walking into the club with. It wasn’t my Maxx. It was the Maxx who belonged to everybody else.

  I was forcing two worlds to smash into each other.

  I was nervous and fitful about the possibilities this night would bring. While Renee was happy to finally meet the guy who had twisted me up inside, I wished my feelings could be that simple.

  “I suppose,” I answered, pulling a short red dress over my head. I was borrowing my outfit from Renee, who had insisted. And it was short, as in barely-covering-my-ass short. I felt way too much air where I shouldn’t be feeling it.

  “Well, you look amazing. What are you guys doing tonight?” she asked, but before I could answer, her phone vibrated in her hand. Without bothering to look at the screen she turned it off.

  “Was that Devon again?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Renee said, giving me one of her all-too-common forced smiles.

  “Still being his charming self?” I couldn’t help asking. Renee gave me a look but then snorted.

  “Of course,” she replied, walking over to my jewelry box and digging through it. I wisely let the subject drop. I knew she didn’t want to talk about it, and I was freaking out too badly to dig for more than she was willing to give.

  “I knew you still had these!” she accused good-naturedly as she held up a pair of dangly earrings with huge sparkly stones at the bottom.

  “I am not wearing those,” I told her. I remembered all too well how Renee got when she wanted to play makeover. When we first became friends she had made it her mission to revamp my wardrobe, getting a lot of joy out of introducing me to stilettos and earrings the size of melons.

  I hadn’t been subjected to her ministrations in quite some time, but it was easy to recall how much I hated them.

  “Oh yes you are. And . . .” She trailed off, going through my shoes and coming up with a matching pair of black strappy things with heels as tall as skyscrapers.

  “I’ll break my neck!” I complained, but Renee put them down in front of me, and I oh so carefully slipped them on.

  I tried standing up in the four-inch heels Renee was insisting I wear. I stuck one foot out and examined the modern torture device attached to my foot.

  “Really, Renee? Why not put spikes on the bottom of my feet? These bitches are gonna kill my toes! I’m going to need to amputate a few by the end of the night,” I groaned, hating the way the shoes pinched my skin.

  Renee rolled her eyes and laughed at my pained expression. “You always did make dressing up a chore. Just trust me. Your man will be drooling at your feet,” she said, smiling at my reflection in the mirror. I met her eyes, and there was a moment when I thought things would be okay.

  And then I heard a knock at the door. “Mystery man arrives!” Renee announced, arching her eyebrow.

  I ran the brush through my long hair one more time and gave myself a perfunctory once-over. I looked good. Really good. It had been a long time since I allowed myself to dress up and enjoy it. I just hoped Maxx liked it.

  “Can I get it?” Renee asked.

  I nodded, hanging back so she could answer the door. When she did, it revealed a Maxx I had only ever seen in one place . . . Compulsion. This was the man who had first captivated me.

  He oozed sexuality and confidence. He wore distressed jeans that hung low on his narrow hips, a tight-fitting blue Henley the color of his eyes, and worn brown Doc Martens. His blond curls were in haphazard disarray and hung down into his hooded eyes. His full lips curved upward in a lazy, sure smile, and his thumbs were tucked into his belt loops.

  Maxx was the man your mother warned you about. He was sex and danger and secrets. He was the very worst kind of temptation and the very best kind of distraction.

  And even though the sight of him set my hormones on fire, there was something in his eyes that concerned me, something slightly predatory and violent. He scared me. He pulled me in. I felt like running. I felt like giving him everything.

  I had come undone.

  “I’m Renee,” my roommate said, holding out her hand as she watched him closely. Maxx pushed off from the wall and took her offered hand.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Renee. I’m Maxx Demelo.” He covered their joined hands with his other palm, a touch that was meant to alleviate all worry. He looked over at me, and his eyes widened a fraction, the first genuine expression I had seen on his face since Renee had opened the door.

  I had surprised him, and maybe unnerved him a bit. It was a heady and powerful feeling.

  “I’m Aubrey’s boyfriend,” he finished his introduction, his lips lingering over the word boyfriend. As if that word could ever adequately describe who he was to me.

  Obsession. Fixation. Owner of my heart and soul. Those were more appropriate descriptions.

  Renee looked over her shoulder as I came closer. Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes were concerned.

  Maxx released Renee’s hand and turned to me. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling. And just like that, he was my Maxx again. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on my lips. He tasted like cigarettes and peppermint.

  “Thanks,” I said, smoothing down the tight skirt of my dress. I wasn’t entirely comfortable in my clothing, but the heated look in Maxx’s eyes made me glad I was wearing it.

  Maxx, obviously not bothered by our audience, grabbed the back of my neck and smashed his mouth down over mine. His tongue plunged between my lips as he kissed me senseless. He emitted a growl deep in his throat, and all I could taste, all I could feel, was Maxx.

  “Ahem.” Renee cleared her throat from behind us, and I yanked myself away from Maxx’s restrictive hands.

  “I guess we should get going,” I said, my voice sounding shaky. Renee looked from me to Maxx, and I knew she was seeing something she wasn’t happy with, but she plastered a smile on her face all the same.

  How many times had I done the same thing when she had left with Devon? How the tables had turned.

  Maxx is nothing like Devon. He would never hurt me, I told myself, hoping I’d believe it. And it was true. Devon was a bully. He took satisfaction in hurting others. Maxx was nothing like that.

  The pain he caused was unintentional and most often self-inflicted.

  But did that make it any better?

  “I’ll be home sometime tomorrow,” I told Renee, who only nodded.

  Maxx kissed my temple, nuzzling my hair. “Don’t count on being anywhere but in my bed tomorrow,” he whispered, goose bumps breaking out across my skin.

  I let my boyfriend lead me out to his car. He held open the passenger-side door for me to get in. It was funny how something as simple as holding the door open for me melted my heart. It made it easier to overlook the things that left me cold i
nside.

  “So I guess we don’t have to go find the painting, huh?” I asked as Maxx pulled out into traffic.

  Maxx smirked, as if laughing at his own private joke. “I know where I’m going.”

  “Do you know who X is, then?” I asked. It was a mystery I could admit I’d like to figure out. I had definitely become a fan.

  “Yeah,” Maxx answered shortly, not giving me any more information.

  “Well, who is it?” I prodded.

  “What do you think of his stuff?” he asked me, changing the subject.

  “It’s . . . strange and beautiful and dark and crazy. I’ve heard that a bunch of galleries are interested in his art. Is that true?”

  Maxx smiled. “Yeah, it’s true.”

  “So why doesn’t he sell some of it? He’d make a killing!”

  Maxx stared straight ahead at the road. “Because his art isn’t about money! It’s about more than that. He doesn’t want to taint it with a desire to earn some quick cash. It’s probably one of the few pure things he has left in his life.”

  Maxx was talking knowledgeably about the artist, speaking as though he understood, on an intimate level, what motivated the unidentified painter. Suspicion started to blossom inside me.

  “And how do you know all that? You seem to know this X really well,” I said carefully.

  Maxx’s jaw tensed, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles turned white. “I don’t know him at all,” he barked.

  Okay then. Clearly X was a sensitive subject. But his gruff dismissal had sparked a hunch I couldn’t ignore.

  “So where are we headed?” I asked when the silence became uncomfortable.

  “A warehouse down in the city. Pretty close to one we’ve used before. It’s a good location,” Maxx said after a beat.

  “How do you find the spots for the club?” I asked, posing the question I had wondered about since first going to Compulsion. The spots were picked with care and consideration.