How To Resist A Heartbreaker

by Louisa George

  ‘Jodi put you up to this?’

  ‘Yes. And no.’ Mitch at least looked like he was trying to find the right words. ‘You saved our boy’s life and I can’t thank you enough for that. I really can’t. I owe you. We all do.’

  ‘It’s my job,’ Max countered. But they both knew it was more than that.

  ‘Thing is, now Jodi has this fantasy that we’ll all live happily ever after.’

  ‘Is there such a thing?’

  ‘I hope so. For my son’s sake.’ The guy looked exhausted. He’d had a hell of a few months, getting acquainted with a child he hadn’t known existed and reconnecting with a woman he’d separated from some years ago. In reality both brothers had had a hell of a time—their whole lives. They were the only ones who understood what the other was going through, and yet were unable to make things right.

  Mitchell’s family had always been plagued by money worries. Max had hoped he could help ease the way a little. He took a deep breath, unsure how Mitchell would take this. ‘I wanted to tell you, I’ve set up a trust fund for Jamie.’

  ‘You’ve done what?’ It was hard to read his reaction. ‘I don’t need your money.’

  ‘Hear me out. I wanted to give him something and I didn’t know what. I thought it might help.’

  Mitch’s fist closed around his can and the metal twisted and bulged. ‘Because you don’t think I can provide?’

  ‘No. I just thought—’

  ‘That you could do better?’ Mitchell’s eyes blackened. Ease the way? Laughable. Seemed he’d erected a roadblock. ‘That’d be right. You haven’t got a son, so you thought you’d buy mine?’

  But then Mitchell looked as shocked as Max felt. What to say now? There was nothing to reply to that.

  A wavering silence descended. Max studied his shoes. Mitch stared at the wall.

  Eventually Mitch leaned forward and shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I was out of order.’

  It was Mitch-speak for I’m sorry. Max took it gladly. ‘Look, I know things weren’t great for you financially growing up, that you’re still sorting out things for your…for Uncle Harry.’

  Mitch laughed. ‘Yeah, I got the bum run there. Should have been picked by Fred.’

  ‘No, we should never have been in that situation at all. Two uncles given a choice—a choice—as to which boy they’d have. Like picking out a new car or a house. Dip dip dip. My blue ship.’

  So they’d been boisterous and grief-stricken and a handful. So they’d fought and screamed and missed their mum and dad. So they’d run away, lashed out and cried. But no one should ever have split twins up so soon after their parents’ death.

  What the hell had been going on in the grown-ups’ heads he had no idea—but it had been obvious to Max then, as a child, that their decisions were so wrong. So horribly wrong. And in true Maitland style the uncles had been fighting their own battles. Who was better than who? Who was most successful? Who had the better son? One-upmanship ran deep in the genes. They’d all been living with the consequences ever since.

  Max spoke up, ‘Harry tried hard, though, didn’t he? I was always envious of you—you seemed to have a connection with them and their kids. All I had was a fancy education from Fred’s Midas touch.’

  ‘Lucky you.’ Mitch sat back in his chair. ‘You did well out of his cash.’

  ‘Lucky?’ Max remembered the frequent emotional blackmail and taunts. We never asked for you. We didn’t want kids. How Max would never ever be good enough in Fred’s eyes. Compared to Mitchell’s poor but loving upbringing it certainly had never felt like he’d won the jackpot. Rich, yes. But desperately alone.

  ‘No, Mitch, there’s a lot more to life than money. I didn’t feel lucky at all. All our lives you’ve compared what you had to what I had. You have no idea what it was like.’

  ‘To struggle? To have to work hard? To try to be as good as your brother? Get real, Max. You had a charmed life.’

  Although this was getting out of control, it was getting real too. Finally opening up about what they’d both endured. Was it his imagination or did his back still sting from his uncle’s belt wound twenty-odd years ago? Hiding the reality from everyone was preferable to reliving it. ‘It wasn’t easy for me. Stuff happened.’

  ‘What kind of stuff?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’ But Max didn’t want to sound like a victim either. ‘Forget it. Let’s move on.’

  Because that’s what happened in their lives. People moved on, leaving emptiness, chaos and hurt. Which was why Max never invested in his emotions. He never again wanted to feel the way he had when he’d lost his parents and then his brother. His enduring memory was of being dragged away, his brother’s screams stinging in his ears.

  From somewhere in the small townhouse Jamie cried out, the noise echoing off the walls.

  Following his brother out to the hall, Max decided it was time to leave. He’d tried. They’d both tried. Who knew if it was enough?

  Just before he left, Max paused, his hand on the doorhandle. ‘Just one thing, Mitch. Do you remember making a den out of sheets and the clothes airer?’

  Mitchell shook his head and frowned. ‘No. Why?’

  ‘In the lounge. In our old house?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Really? A den that we slept in one night. And we had a secret language that used to drive Mum mad, you must remember that?’

  ‘Nah.’ Mitch’s shoulders lifted then dropped as he turned to mount the stairs. ‘It was too long ago. I’ve got a new life now, I’m trying to make a go of it. Like you, I’m trying to forget all that stuff.’

  Max let himself out, a heavy ache thickening across his chest. Maybe it was pointless to even try to reach out to his twin, to try to create a family. Not when they didn’t even have the same memories.

  *

  When the phone rang Gabby was sitting on the floor of her closet, sorting through her memory boxes again. Even though he wasn’t in the room she instinctively closed the closet door to hide them from view. ‘Max?’

  ‘Hey.’ Although it was wonderful to hear his voice, it filled her with concern. He sounded flat. Tired. In the restaurant he’d been so closed down she hadn’t known how to handle it. All she could do was wait until he was ready to talk. ‘Thought I’d ring and see how you are.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ she lied, infusing brightness into her voice to counteract his. That damned SkyJump had snagged something in her stomach as well as her shoulder. An ache she couldn’t shake with regular painkillers, which only zapped her strength and humour. Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be an extreme adventurist just yet, or it needed a level of fitness more than that of a flea. ‘How did it go with Maitland Two?’

  ‘In his eyes he’s Maitland One—so don’t be surprised if that nickname isn’t a hit.’ His laugh was hollow and it made her heart hitch. She imagined him in that huge empty apartment with nothing for company but the plants and his worsening mood. ‘To be honest, it went exactly as I expected.’

  Not good, then. ‘You need a distraction. Why don’t you step outside and busy yourself with watering the babies?’

  ‘Thanks. But I don’t think that will help.’ His voice thawed a little.

  ‘So, what would?’

  ‘You.’ So inevitable. So obvious. So honest. His breathing stilled as he waited for her answer.

  She glanced at the clock, torn between looking after herself and giving him what he needed. Maybe he needed to talk. Maybe they’d end up back at nothing—where neither felt able to give any more. But she’d spent a lifetime doing things for other people, rightly or wrongly—now she felt a tug of responsibility for him too.

  It wasn’t a bad thing, though, far from it. She liked it. She wanted to wipe that sadness from his voice, knew they’d have a fun time. That if anyone could make him feel better tonight, it was her. There was no point denying it: she’d lost a piece of her heart to him. And maybe, just maybe, he’d done the same with her.

  But if she we
nt over now, there’d be no going back. The commitment would be there, blatant in her actions. He’d know it. And so would she. ‘I’d love to, Max. But I have an early shift tomorrow then the kayak trip straight after. I need to get some good sleep. I’m bushed.’

  There was another long pause while he weighed up her answer. He breathed out a sigh, ‘Okay, sure. I understand. No worries. See you tomorrow, then.’ Then he hung up.

  Just like that. Max Maitland had hung up with no sexual innuendo. No cheeky repartee.

  The man had hung up without a fight.

  Damn.

  *

  Ten minutes later she leaned against his apartment doorbell, letting it ring until he answered it. ‘Surprised?’

  He didn’t speak. He was wearing the faded T-shirt from before and tight washed-out jeans. He looked like something from an advert, surly and sullen. But relieved.

  His blue, blue eyes stared at her with a kind of need and tenderness that she’d never experienced before. Like she’d saved his world. Like there was nothing else he wanted more in his life.

  Pressing her into his arms, his lips hit hers with a force that snatched her breath away. He hauled her against the door as his mouth traced rough, greedy kisses over her cheeks, her neck, her throat. His passion ignited a desire in her that overrode her intentions, overrode her sensibilities. All the holding back and the frustrations and the fear of letting herself go entirely with him were shot. He needed her and she needed him right back.

  ‘I want you. My God, Gabby, I want you so much.’ His hands clawed at her blouse, ripped it from her, dragged her skirt to the floor. ‘I want to be inside you. Now.’

  ‘Yes. Yes.’ She couldn’t, wouldn’t deny him this. She reached for his T-shirt, threw it to the floor. Tugged at his belt, her fingers brushing against his hardness. She needed him now as much as he needed her. Once she’d freed his erection from the constraints of his jeans she took him in her hand, felt the heat, the strength of him.

  ‘God. Don’t…’ He groaned into her ear. ‘Wait. Please.’

  His fingers parted her legs, slipped into her, sending jolts of pleasure spiralling through her body. His mouth met hers again and he kissed her long and hard, stoking the want. If she didn’t have him, if she didn’t…she’d die. Pure and simple.

  A huge pressure built inside her and all she could see, feel, hear was him. Max. His smell. His touch. And her whole body craved him.

  ‘Now. I want you now.’ Her voice was cracked and desperate, her words coming between each tight thrust of his fingers.

  All too soon he withdrew them, cupped her bottom with both hands and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and positioned herself over him. Then he was sliding into her. Pounding her against the wall, hard and fast.

  He gazed at her as he entered her, a different Max now from any she’d ever seen before—emboldened and savage. Glorious and powerful. And he wanted her. Wanted to bury himself inside her. Wanted to lose himself and his crazy mixed-up feelings in her.

  She squeezed tightly around him, gripped his back. Felt ripped apart with emotion—the intensity of his need meshing with her own. The ache in her stomach waned, then intensified with every stroke.

  Those cool Maitland eyes bored into her, making a million promises. That connection she never believed she’d have. That fusion of souls.

  Harder. Faster. He pounded.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t handle any more he tensed then moaned into her hair. Long and loud. She bucked against him, reaching the same high. Higher. Higher. Until the world splintered and burst into tiny stars.

  He held her against the wall, rocking with her, slowly, slowly, his forehead against hers as their erratic breathing steadied. His kisses were more gentle now, infused with tenderness.

  A huge knot of emotion lodged in her chest. She wanted him. Wanted Max Maitland more than anything else in the world.

  She wanted him fiercely. Desperately. She wanted him to hold her heart and treasure it, not trash it like Isaac and Nonna and her mother had done. And she would hold and treasure his, if he offered it to her. If he could make that step. If she could.

  *

  After a few minutes she was able to speak. ‘That was the most amazing thing.’

  ‘Yeah. And so are you.’ He withdrew and wrapped her in his arms. ‘Come to bed. And this time you are not allowed to leave without me. No sneaking off. Promise?’

  ‘Promise. I’ll stay as long as you want.’ Forever?

  He carried her through to the bedroom as if she were as light as candyfloss and fitted himself around her, pulling cool sheets over their spent bodies. She watched as his eyelids fluttered closed.

  ‘Don’t go to sleep just yet, Max,’ she whispered into the darkness. ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘What?’ His eyes remained closed but he snuggled in closer and rested his chin on her head.

  ‘Mitchell.’

  ‘Oh, you know. Same old, same old.’

  She sighed. Was he hedging? Or did he truly not understand what she meant? The way she saw it, the only thing holding Max back from committing to anything was Mitch. And their tragic past. And she understood his reluctance to share his story. After all, history held her back, too. But she needed that connection with him. ‘I mean from the beginning. Tell me about the geography. What happened after your parents…went?’

  Against her chest his heartbeat sped up. ‘It’s too long and too late.’

  ‘I won’t go to sleep until you talk. And you know I have that kind of willpower.’ She nudged him gently and wiggled round to face him. ‘You want to try me?’

  ‘No, I know what you’re capable of, scary nurse lady.’ He inhaled deeply, the hollows and slants of his face darker and more defined in the moonlit room. He was clearly filtering the information before he spoke.

  He swallowed slowly, then began. ‘Okay, so after our parents died we were put in care. Just for a short while. We were distraught and a handful. And I mean a handful.’ He laughed sadly. ‘But we just didn’t understand what had happened. They weren’t coming back, the people kept telling us. What did that mean?’

  She imagined the two boys, not much older than Jamie, vulnerable and scared, living in a stranger’s house. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. ‘It must have been terrifying.’

  ‘Not as bad as then finding out we were going to live in separate homes.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  His hand stroked her thigh, back and forth. Back and forth. The rhythm seemed to steady him. ‘My father had two brothers. Seems they were put in a difficult situation by the authorities—someone had to take us. And pretty damned soon before we got too difficult and they couldn’t place us anywhere.

  ‘Our uncles had always argued, played the Maitland competitive games. Neither of them really wanted us and they couldn’t agree who’d take us both. So, as they couldn’t reach a happy compromise to keep us together, they agreed to take one each.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘It is what it is.’

  ‘So you were grieving and then separated. Twins? It’s ludicrous.’

  ‘It was almost thirty years ago; things are different now. Back then it was about keeping the adults happy. No one thought about how we’d cope.’ He shuddered. It was obviously traumatic for him to talk about this—but it explained so much about him. How he kept parts of himself hidden from public view and wouldn’t even allow a private glimpse. Why he chose to flit from woman to woman instead of putting down roots. He didn’t know how. Probably too damned scared that every single person he formed an attachment to would leave him.

  ‘The worst thing I remember was being led away by Fred. I could hear Mitch calling for me. I wanted to run to him, to tell him that whatever happened I’d find him and we’d be together again. But I was too scared, they were adults and they were in charge. Fred wasn’t the type of man you messed with. And I was the older brother, I was supposed to look after Mitch. But I couldn’t. I could
n’t stop what they were doing. And I couldn’t bear to see the look on his face as I lost him, too.’

  Her heart was breaking. She gripped his hand and encouraged him to speak again, hoping that some good would come out of letting out all that pent-up hurt. ‘You must have seen him again, though? Surely? They wouldn’t keep you separated for long? That would be criminal.’

  ‘Over the years Mitch and I got to see each other less and less. One year Harry and Fred had an almighty blow-up and access was pretty much stopped altogether. When we did ever meet up it was like being with a stranger, a distant cousin. His life was so different. So full, with brothers and sisters. He didn’t need me. And I was completely alone. It wasn’t until university, when we met up again, that it totally came to a head. Over Jodi.’

  Hence the reality in which they lived now. It all slotted into place. ‘What about your aunties?’

  ‘My Aunty Beryl—Mum—they adopted me so they made me call her that—was nice enough.’

  At the word ‘adopted’ Gabby froze.

  She grappled to find words to fill his pause, but couldn’t find anything to say. Her throat had closed. She nodded against his chin, encouraged him to go on.

  ‘She was meek and subservient to Fred and did whatever he told her to. And he was a bully—I grew to hate him. Nothing was good enough. He once told me he wished he’d never agreed to take me on. Kids were too much trouble.’ He huffed out a breath, his body shaking with anger. ‘I was supposed to call them Mum and Dad—they were supposed to be my parents. Can you imagine? Can anyone replace your real parents? The ones who love you unconditionally?’

  God, she hoped so. She really, truly did. His story had so many echoes of her own it broke her heart.

  For the last ten years she’d desperately hoped that parental love could come naturally to those who wanted it enough. But what if it didn’t? What if they changed their minds? What if they decided their child wasn’t what they’d dreamt it could be? What if they made life intolerable?

  The pain she’d carried around for so long almost overwhelmed her. This was Max’s story, not hers, but she grieved for him with every bit of her heart. He’d lost. She’d lost, too. But while he’d had all choice whipped away, she’d made the choice on her own. And with good cause.