by Lauren Dane
“This is a very admirable quality, Maybe. I always mean it in a sex-type way when it comes to you. But first dinner.”
Maybe harrumphed but when her stomach growled she had to admit dinner sounded great.
“Do we at least have time for me to change clothes?” she asked as they continued the last bits of cleanup.
“You have ten minutes when we drop Rachel at home. I will keep strict time.” He even glanced at his watch to underline it.
He wasn’t entirely wrong to give her a time limit because there were moments Maybe would get caught up in something and forget herself and whatever tasks she had to finish.
“Bossy,” she muttered. Mainly for form. It was sort of cool he knew her so well.
He patted her ass quickly as she walked past. Because her face was turned away, she allowed a quick grin.
* * *
“TELL ME SOMETHING about yourself no one knows,” he said as he began to eat.
“You and your tell-me-something stuff. Like what?”
“This is why I ask, Maybe. If I knew, it wouldn’t be you telling me something I didn’t know.”
“You’re a smarty-pants.”
He laughed. “Of all the things you could say, I get smarty-pants?”
“Well, I’m not mad at you. At the moment anyway. Sassy. Saucy. Smirky. All those apply too.”
“You were mad at me before?” His tone said he couldn’t possibly imagine why, though he obviously knew.
“Really? You’re going to be coy? I should tell you I don’t like that.” Maybe frowned.
“Can I confess how beautiful you are when you frown?” he asked.
“What?” She laughed. “You’re so weird.”
He nodded slowly. “I might have heard this a few times before. But your mouth is particularly attractive when you make that face.”
“It’s a good thing I suppose. Since you do things to make me frown all the time now that we’re...whatever we are.”
He made a sound, caught between a growl and a snarl and it made her ladybits dance with joy.
“Is this about Rada?” he asked. “There’s nothing between us. I am with you.” He waved a casual hand before he attacked his burger once more.
“Is what about Rada?”
His gaze locked on her. “Now who’s being coy?”
“I’m not coy. I just don’t want to talk about her while I’m eating.” She grimaced. “I don’t get it. But I’m not a dude.”
“For that I’m grateful as I happen to prefer women.”
“Are you poking at me?” Maybe grinned. Damn it, she really liked him.
“I like poking at you. As you know.” He gave her the sex look. “I want to know you better.”
She thought a bit and then sighed. “Only if you do the same. Tell me something about you I mean.”
Alexsei agreed.
“I secretly love all the touristy stuff in Seattle,” she told him. “I’ve done the Underground Tour half a dozen times. In the summer I love to spend my off days taking the ferries all around Puget Sound.”
* * *
ALEXSEI WASN’T SURE what he’d been expecting, but this confession only made him want her more. That sweet side to her was a gift he planned to treasure.
“I’ve never gone on the Underground Tour. It’s enjoyable?”
Her grin came fast. “It’s silly, but yes, fun. I like that historical period.”
“When is your next day off? I want to go with you.”
She blinked at him, a blush pinkening her cheeks, charming him impossibly more. “Really? You don’t have to. I mean, it’s cheesy.”
He put his fork down and reached for her hand, tangling their fingers together. “Of course I don’t have to. I want to. I’ve lived in Seattle since I was sixteen but I have to admit I’ve never done anything touristy. My business is here in Pioneer Square, naturally I see a lot of tourists. But I’ve never acted like one.”
“My next day off is Thanksgiving.” Her expression created a quick jerk of empathy. “So maybe in early December. My boss is pretty sweet on me.”
He was more than sweet on the woman across the table from him. “Your family is not good.”
Maybe shrugged. “Good is a relative term. I think my parents believe they’re doing the right thing for Rachel.”
Alexsei found himself rankled by the usually blunt Maybe being so careful about the words she chose. “Tell me about them. About you.”
“You’re supposed to tell me something first. Remember?”
Alexsei took a deep breath. “You know I came here at fourteen with my brother to live with my aunt and uncle. Part of the reason was our mother’s new husband and his lifestyle. My mother could see, to her credit, that my brother and I could get easily sucked into that way of living. There was so much money and power being tossed around. It would have been natural for me to start doing small jobs for him, working my way up. And one day Cris and I would have been his lieutenants or something equally dangerous and stupid. People judge her and think she’s a terrible parent. In some ways I’d agree. But in this? In this I feel like she’s underappreciated.”
The corner of Maybe’s mouth quirked up slightly. “I like to hear that. I’ll be honest when I tell you I’d wondered how someone could just walk away like that. Given my own parents that seems rather silly, right?”
“Why did they let you go? When you ran away.”
“I might need another glass of wine for this part.”
He poured her another and she lifted it in a self-mocking toast before she spoke once more.
“My dad and I were pretty much at odds my whole life, but especially in my teen years. He was a cop. Still thinks like one, I’m pretty sure that runs to the bone. Rachel has that too. Anyway, Rachel was the neat one. The one who obeyed and made good choices. I was the messy one who said all the wrong things, read all the wrong books, had all the wrong friends. By the time I was sixteen and he called me a stupid whore after discovering a hickey on my neck, I just left. I ran and headed to my aunt and uncle—funny how we’ve got that in common—and they took me in and gave me a home. He and my mom had me declared a runaway, and wanted me taken back to Southern California and placed in a juvenile facility. But with some pressure from my aunt—she’s a cop too, they run thick in my family—my parents signed papers to give custody to them and pretty much left me alone. I really think they were relieved to have me gone. Rachel was the one they focused on solely after that.”
She shrugged one shoulder as anger burned through Alexsei’s gut.
“And yet, they moved up here to be near you,” he said.
“They moved up here to be near Rachel. Big difference.”
He didn’t understand it. Certainly moving to be near an adult child who’d undergone a great deal of trauma was what he thought of as normal, caring behavior. But essentially pushing one of your children out of the house while putting all love and attention on the other didn’t make any sense at all. And it pissed him off because it was her and she didn’t deserve to be sad.
“I’m sorry to have stirred up bad memories.” He lifted her fingers to his lips to kiss them.
“You didn’t. It’s how things are. You can’t be sorry for something other people have done. Anyway, I have Rachel and my aunt and uncle and cousins. I’m loved and accepted. Which is a lot more than many other people so I consider that to all be in the win column. She needs our parents, so I put all my own junk aside to make sure she can see them but that they can’t bulldoze her.”
He frowned and she grinned in response.
“How do you make frowning so sexy? I suppose that’s a good thing, given how much you do it.”
“I don’t like people I care about carrying hurt.”
Her grin softened. “Well. Yeah.” A pretty pink blush bloomed over her cheeks.
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The edges of her, that’s what’d called to him from the very start. Fierce. The set of her mouth drove him insane, so tough and sensual. Once she’d learned how hot it made him, she’d taken to little flicks of her tongue against whatever jewelry she chose that particular day.
But it wasn’t until that night in her bedroom several weeks before that he’d become just as enamored of her softness. That vulnerability she so rarely showed. The combination of it was so utterly bewitching he had no choice but to fall in love with her.
He wasn’t ready to speak that out loud. Not just yet. And he knew for certain Maybe wasn’t ready to hear it and let herself believe it. Alexsei had a lot to prove to her. Trust to grow between them still so she could accept the words and the promise between them.
The getting there would be fun, he had no doubt. She was unpredictable in all the best—unexpected—ways.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“SO LOOK, THE first time they start in, if they don’t stop, we’re leaving,” Rachel said right before she got out of the car.
Maybe gripped the steering wheel tighter for a moment and then forced herself to let go.
“Just go enjoy them. You know how they are.”
Rachel took Maybe’s hand. “Stop it. I couldn’t protect you when we were kids. I get it even if I do feel guilty about it. But I can now. And I will.”
“You have enough shit to shovel. It’ll be fine.”
“Didn’t I just tell you to stop that?” Annoyance colored Rachel’s tone. “We’re here because of me. Don’t think I’m unaware of that. But that means I have control and it’s high time I used it better. Don’t argue. I’m the oldest and I say so.”
With that, her smartly dressed sister got out of the car with one backward glance that told Maybe to hurry up.
Smiling, she did.
The house their parents had bought was one Maybe would have liked to have grown up in. At the top of a steep street leading down toward the water, the old-school rambler had great light and, from the front yard and living room, some fantastic views of the Olympics to the west and the Cascades to the east.
Her mother had a great touch with plants even if she didn’t so much with rebellious daughters. Even in the late fall, the hardier of the bushes and flowers still managed to bring color and cheer to the front walk.
They stood on the porch, both smiling at Rachel. They hadn’t given Maybe a second glance but she’d learned early on it was better that way because when they did pay attention it was usually to criticize.
They descended to pull Rachel into a hug, one Maybe got a pale imitation of once her sister had clawed free.
“Come inside. It’s chilly out here,” their mother said.
Maybe followed them into the large living room. It flowed into the dining room and the kitchen just beyond.
If she’d grown up in this house would she have been a different person?
The house she’d grown up in had been full of walls and corners. Places that seemed to fill up with dread the older she got.
In her father’s household there was plenty of order but those corners continued to fill.
“Gladys, why are you hanging back and being awkward?” her mother called over a shoulder.
“Maybe. Mom, it’s Maybe,” Rachel said before Maybe could.
“I certainly did not name that child Maybe like some sort of hippie.”
“It’s too early to start a fight,” Maybe said, snapping her protective mask into place. She’d simply not let it bother her. She’d inhabit the body of a person who was beyond whatever her parents thought.
“You’re right.” Rachel turned to take up at Maybe’s side. Something their mother was busily adding to her list of crimes Maybe was responsible for. “I think it’s really silly to have this same exact argument every single time you see her. She’s called Maybe. She has been since I gave her that name. It’s better than Gladys anyway. Who names a sweet tiny baby Gladys?”
Rachel was certainly sassy that day. It cheered Maybe to see her sister with so much spirit.
“It was good enough for her great-great-grandmother,” their father began but Maybe sighed.
“Oh for God’s sake! Why does it matter? Please call me Maybe. It’s not complicated. I’m asking nicely. No offense to great-great-grandma Gladys or anything. But I don’t like it. It doesn’t fit me and so for twenty-four years I’ve gone by Maybe. It seems to me if you can call Dad Richie instead of Dick, you can call me the name I prefer.”
Rachel practically beamed at her. “Yes! Very good points. Now that we all understand each other, let’s have a good Thanksgiving with our family,” she told their parents as she kept an arm around Maybe.
“All I wanted to know was why the girl was hanging back as if she were on the way to the gallows,” their mother muttered as she turned and headed toward the kitchen.
Richard Dolan stared his youngest daughter down. Or he tried to but Maybe was just as stubborn as he was and was better at the no-blinking game.
“Aunt Robbie says Maybe would have been a fantastic cop with her stare,” Rachel said as she poured a glass of wine for each of them.
Their father winced at the very thought. Maybe echoed it for her own reasons.
“I thought you couldn’t mix alcohol with your medications?” Their mother gave Maybe a glare though the question was for Rachel.
“I can’t. Not within hours of taking them. It’s two. I’ve got time.” Rachel sipped.
“You’re supposed to be monitoring her for this stuff,” their father said to Maybe.
“She told you she’s fine. She just explained her medication situation like an adult. I don’t need to answer questions people ask of her. Not like this.”
“She could die! In your care look at what’s happened to her already!”
“If you two don’t back off and stop this, Maybe and I are leaving,” Rachel told them.
Their mother clamped her lips shut and turned back to the fridge. Their father harrumphed and headed over to the table, where he sat, waiting to be served.
“What can we do to help with dinner?” Maybe asked, hoping to get past this excruciating moment.
Her mother gave her a look that said how dubious she was of Maybe’s use, but she shook her head and then sighed.
“The table has been set but if the two of you could bring out the bowls there on the counter, that would be good.”
Rachel rolled her eyes, but she and Maybe got to work and before long they were all sitting together at the table.
Not that she was hungry. But she did manage to enjoy the turkey and mashed potatoes. Her mom was a pretty good cook and she always outdid herself on the holidays when their house had typically been more full with extended family and friends who worked with their dad.
She supposed they held the smaller gathering against her along with everything else. Well, she knew they had when her father had transferred to a new station house when she’d been younger and they’d had to make new friends there. And in a way they were right this time. When they’d moved, they’d left behind an established life and a lot of family to be near Rachel.
“We got a new bed. For your room, Rachel,” their mother said with a smile.
“I have a bed in my room. All our friends complained when I made them move the mattress up the steps. Gosh, whiners, it was four steps.” Rachel rolled her eyes, clearly distrusting of things like basic human strength limitations.
“Perhaps if you hadn’t been glowering at them while shouting out useful critique about their form.” Maybe lifted a shoulder.
“Some people cry too easy. That’s all I’m saying.” Rachel could be like a drill sergeant sometimes.
Caren broke in again. “Your room here. In our house. It’s got controls so you can get out of bed easier. We can take you to the doctor too. No need to ride th
e bus.”
Maybe and Rachel gave one another a look before Rachel spoke. “I don’t need to ride the bus to work. I just do it because I like to. I don’t have a room here. I have a house just half an hour away with my own room and my own bed I don’t have any trouble getting in and out of.”
“You had one at the hospital!” their mother exclaimed. “So if you needed it there, you need it now. There’s no reason not to have all the best while you recover.”
“I needed a painkiller drip at one time in the hospital too. And then there was that whole coma business. I don’t need that now. I’m not having any trouble with my mobility and I haven’t for at least the last year.”
Rachel had worked her ass off to get as far as she had. A stubborn streak and a high pain tolerance meant she’d been a favorite down at physical therapy.
“Don’t speak to your mother in that tone,” their father said as he put some more turkey on his plate.
“Don’t talk about me like I’m a kid,” Rachel shot back. “Stop trying to manipulate me into moving in here. I have a house. One I chose myself. Because I’m not incapable of being an adult and making adult choices. I appreciate that you care enough to want me to move in and all. But I don’t need that.”
“If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to worry about paying bills so you could focus on getting the training you need to get back into law enforcement,” their dad said.
“I’m not going back into law enforcement.” Rachel’s tone had gone hard and flat. It was a near-perfect imitation of how their father spoke to Maybe most of the time.
“You can’t be a tattoo artist, for God’s sake!” he thundered after pounding the table with a meaty fist.
“But I can. I am! And I’m good at it,” Rachel told him with a calm that brought the vein in his temple out.
Maybe hadn’t taken a drink of her wine at all because she had the feeling they might need to bolt at any time. Rachel had clearly had enough and she wasn’t holding back. Not anymore.
Her instinct was to step in and shield her sister. But it was time for Rachel to stand up for herself more firmly. She’d been strong in all the ways she’d needed most to heal and now that her physical healing had been completed, she’d need to keep up her emotional healing.