A smile trembled on my mouth. I could have injured Devyn if I’d wanted, Dad had taught Ray and I enough self-defense tactics, but I’d been too hurt then to even try.
When Max walked out of the room again, my stomach dropped. Ray rushed after him.
My emotions all over the place, I hurried after them. But Ray was alone in the kitchen, putting on the coffeepot. “Where’s Max?”
“Outside. He doesn’t want company. Ila, wait—”
“Not now, Ray.” I opened the door leading to the back porch. Max stood there, an unlit cigarette in his mouth, staring at the drenched gardens.
“Max?”
He didn’t turn or respond. More seconds passed. Then, removing the smoke from his mouth, he shifted and leaned against the railing, and faced me, his expression unreadable. “Did you get your closure?”
His voice was cold. So cold.
Warily, I nodded.
He waited. Max never asked what happened—he waited.
Uneasy, I told him. “He wants me back. But I said I’m with you now.”
He folded those powerful, tattooed arms over his chest. “And what? That he’ll be waiting when we’re over?”
At his accurate guess, heat flooded my face.
“Is that what you think, too?” he demanded. “That you and I have a shelf life.”
I bit my lip because I had no idea how to answer him. I only knew something inside me was changing. But Max was too intense, a force of nature—a storm—and he was right; I was so afraid that like a front sweeping through, just as fast, he could be gone.
His mouth flattened when I remained silent. Pushing the cigarette back into his pocket, he walked past me. “We should head back. Ray said she has work this evening.”
Anxious, I ran after him. “Max, wait—”
He stopped so suddenly at the kitchen door, I almost collided into him. “Just one thing, Logan. He comes after you again or ever touches you, I will kill him.”
***
“Aw man, look at that rain,” Ray grumbled as we hurried into the apartment later in the afternoon.
“I’ll take you to work,” Max said, shutting the door behind us.
“Thanks, Maximus!” Ray flung him a smile and sprinted upstairs to get ready for her evening shift.
Dismay took hold. I wanted time alone with him, to talk. Now he was taking Ray to work. But there was a deluge out there, he wasn’t avoiding me, I told myself. We’d have time after he dropped Ray off.
Max set my bag on the stairs but dropped his near the couch, then switched on the television.
I took a leap of faith and the next big step in our relationship. “You don’t have to live out of your bag, you can share my cupboard and my bed, you know,” I teased.
“Don’t worry, I know my place.”
What? My heart dipped. And then I knew it wasn’t the wet roads that had demanded all his attention on the drive back. Yes, he’d spoken, but I missed the warmth in his tone, the look in his eyes I knew was mine alone. He’d retreated emotionally from me.
“Max, please tell me what’s wrong. Are you still upset—”
“I’m ready.” Ray flew down the stairs, shrugging on her jacket. “See you later, sis.”
Max walked out with her, leaving me standing there with a churning stomach. Okay, he’d be back in a half hour or so, and I was determined to have this out.
The half hour slipped by. Six o’clock soon became seven then eight. Finally, I called him. He answered after a few rings. “Where are you?”
“At the bar. Jack and War turned up—” He broke off, someone spoke to him, laughter sounded in the background. I pressed a hand to my aching stomach. “Max—”
“I’ll see you later. I’ll probably give Ray a ride back, the weather’s pissing still. Don’t wait up for me.”
I stared at the screen of my cell, the call disconnected, and found it hard to swallow past the hard lump forming in my throat. How did this get so out of hand? My first instinct was to curl up in my bed and hope this was some nightmare. I stopped at the window to stare into the wet night, I wanted so badly to go to him. But I couldn’t demand that he tell me what was wrong in a public place.
My cell rang. I grabbed it from the coffee table. Hope turned to disappointment, then back to worry for a different reason at seeing Charli’s name. I answered. “What’s wrong?”
“C-can I come over?” her voice quivered. “I can’t handle it, Ila. I’m so afraid I’ll break and call Craig, I need someone to wallop me over the head until I come to my senses.”
I blew out a rough sigh. “Sure, come on over. I’ll get the”—I mentally ran over my liquor contents. I had wine and a half bottle of tequila—“I’ll make margaritas.”
At least being with Charli would keep my mind off the gnawing ache in my chest and stop me from obsessing over why Max, who always faced any setback head-on, had left me behind.
Chapter Fourteen
Max
Reverberating phantom cries pulled me out of the nightmare I was trapped in, and into a jackhammer of a pounding behind my eyes. Christ!
I ground my molars, wanting to tear out my eyeballs. The scent of brewed coffee made my belly churn. The beer from last night backtracked up my throat. I pushed off the couch and stumbled for the toilet near the stairway, collapsed to my knees, and vomited into the bowl, then dry heaved as my stomach tried to force its way up my throat.
Sweating and shaking, I slouched against the wall. Pills. Needed them. That meant moving.
At the thought of Logan finding me like this—
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Using the wall as a crutch, I pushed up from the floor, got the pills from my tote, popped two. Back in the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and splashed cold water on my face.
My senses still clouded with pain, I opened the bathroom door. Logan stood there, wearing yoga pants and a faded tee. My heart clopped hard like it had the first moment I saw her. Unable to face her when I was feeling this low, I walked past, hoping she wouldn’t follow.
“Max, wait—” She grasped my forearm, her worried gaze searching my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m late for my run.” I sidestepped her, had no idea if I’d be running or crawling on my knees once outside, but I had to get out of here until the pain subsided. The resurging dreams, the stress, along with lack of sleep for so many years was taking a toll on me. Besides, I could be a dick when in the grip of another nightmare-induced headache. More, I didn’t want to take my frustration out on her.
“Max, don’t shut me out. Talk to me.”
Shaking my head just plain fucking hurt, so I pulled free and strode back to the couch, retrieved my t-shirt from the floor and pulled it on. I shoved my feet into sneakers then headed for the front door.
She blocked me, and before I opened my mouth, she said, “Yes, I know you don’t need my help.” Those golden eyes flashed in a fit of temper. “You’re all big and strong, you don’t need anyone, but dammit, I’m right here.”
“Did you fight him like you do me?”
She frowned. “What?”
I realized I should talk, get this shit roiling inside my head since yesterday out in the open—about her and her ex—but I needed my brain to function first. “I gotta go.”
“I’ll join you.”
“You can’t keep up with me.”
She spun around for the foyer, got her Nikes out from the cupboard under the stairs, and slipped them on, and totally ignoring me, she headed outside into the drizzle. Thick fog hung over the tall buildings and snaked lower down to the streets. It suited my pissy mood.
I took off in a hard run. Uh, fuck! My brain jarred inside my skull like it’d loosened with each pounding step. Pain speared me in retaliation. Goddammit, let the damn pills kick in soon.
Still too frustrated with her to talk, I remained silent and wallowed in my ire. But she kept up easily with me, surprising me. Clearly, jealousy amplified my dickweed tendencies. When I’d seen her asshole ex touch he
r then kiss her, I wanted to rip him apart with my bare hands. But the fact that she didn’t say anything about it—that gutted me. She was mine. Mine!
Christ. I needed to calm down. Fits of temper and grinding my teeth didn’t help with my aching head.
Ten minutes into the run, as we approached the neighborhood park, she slowed. Wheezed, “Y-yeah… I’m not gonna—” Another gasp. “—m-make it.” She veered toward the kids’ park.
I continued for a few minutes. Dammit! Cursing silently, I circled back and found her seated on a swing, in the drizzle, phone in hand. She didn’t look up as I crossed to her.
I swiped the sweat and rain from my face, grateful the pounding in my head had eased to a dull ache, one only sleep could cure. But that was like wishing for the moon.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m collecting the treasures from the chests, then I can get new ones in three hours,” she said, like I’d asked about the damn game. She continued tapping on the display with a ragged nail, water running down her face in rivulets. “Dammit, Logan, go back to the apartment so I can finish my run.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Go,” she breathed, dismissing me with a flick of her hand.
Wait. I’d never seen her go for a jog since I’d been here. I narrowed my eyes, which, of course, was wasted on her since her attention remained glued to her damn cell. “You don’t run.”
“Never said I did…damn, lost again!” She scowled at the cell screen and continued tapping furiously. “That’s a hundred darn trophies lost since this morning!”
Frustrated to my back teeth, I snatched the cell from her and shoved it into my pocket.
Finally, she looked up, blinking the rain from her eyes. “You ready to talk? I thought I was going to have to wait here until you ran your hundred k or your feet to stumps. Why did you avoid me last night? Then you slept on the couch?” She dashed at the few wet strands that had escaped her ponytail and stuck to her cheeks.
“You laid the ground rules for this. Sex only.”
Hurt crossed her expressive features. “That was before…” Then she clamped her mouth shut.
Fuck. I pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting to get myself in hand, and exhaled roughly. “Because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to handle jealousy.”
She blinked. “Devyn means nothing to me—”
“He kissed you.”
“He took me by surprise.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“Because I knew you’d be upset.”
Right. Jaw tight, I stared at the kids’ slide, the rain flowing down the smooth, red surface, and tried to rein in the cascade of emotions flooding me. One, utter possessiveness, because this girl had seeped beneath my skin and was slowly climbing her way into a heart I hadn’t thought I possessed until her.
“Is that why you stayed late at the bar last night?” she asked.
I sighed. “No. War and I had to keep Jack’s ass nailed to the chair, or he would have probably landed in jail this time…” I told her about Jack and the brother-in-law he loathed.
Logan pushed up from the swing. Her gaze searched my face, edged with a plea for understanding that squeezed my gut. She stopped an inch away from me. “I shouldn’t have asked you to leave, I should have told Devyn to go. But I realized I had to speak with him, get things in perspective. I’d been with him for so long, then that happened. I was devastated. For over a year, I lived like a robot, struggling to find a way to move on. I think it’s why Ray moved in with me. I was a mess. In the last six months, I’ve been managing. Still, it was hard. Three months ago, I started to breathe again, then in the last month, I finally forgot…”
Hearing her talk about how much that douche had hurt her, my chest tightened. I lowered my head to stare at my wet sneakers, trying to suppress the spasm of pain clawing at me. Would she ever feel for me half of what she had felt for him?
And then I stilled, her words sinking in. In the last month… My gaze snapped to hers. Like a man possessed, I cupped her face in my palms. “Until me?”
“Until you,” she whispered.
My eyes burned, her words flowing through me, healing the bruises caused by this weekend. I kissed her. “I’m sorry for being such a dick.”
She smiled, the tiny dimple near her mouth appearing. “Lucky for you, I like dicks—ugh!” She laughed. “You know what I mean.”
For once, I didn’t have a comeback. Like. Was that all she felt?
Until you, her words echoed in my mind. Ones I hung on to. I’d pulled her out from that abyss of pain she was buried in. Me.
No, she wasn’t ready to accept the truth just yet, but she would soon.
Smirking, I reached for her. Hastily, she stepped back, eyes widening. “What—eeek, Max!” she squealed as I swept her off her feet, tossed her over my shoulder, and took off in a jog.
She grabbed my waist. “What are you doing? Put me down.”
“You’re tired. I’m taking you back to the apartment. I can be a bastard, but I won’t let you suffer the trip back.”
Her laughter spilled free, and she smacked my butt. “Darn it, Max, everyone’s looking!”
“Who? It’s early morning. Unless they’re peering from behind the curtains, but then they’re probably wishing they could be carried in the rain, too.” I found her top had moved up, revealing skin, and I rubbed my bristly cheek against her side.
More laughter spilled free. Now she was caressing my backside, and wouldn’t you know it, my damn cock was so on board with what she was doing.
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Maybe. But when it comes to you, I’ll fight dirty to keep you.”
She giggled, the sound a balm to my bruised heart. Yes, I would fight for her with whatever arsenal I had—
The truth hit me like a sledgehammer in the chest. I stumbled.
“Max?”
I answered. I know I did, but I had no idea what I said. I tightened my hold on her. So glad she couldn’t see my expression. Awe and wariness flowing through me.
Yeah, I’d fight dirty to keep her because this girl held my heart.
Ila
After Max and I had made up in the rain, and then in the shower, the day flew by pretty fast with work, and my afternoon appointment with Gus. Then Max left after dinner to go see Jack. The guy was “mad as a rabid coyote.” Max’s words. It seemed Jack’s brother-in-law had slapped him with a restraining order, after all.
It was close to eleven when I finally tumbled into bed. And probably much later when a warm body curled around mine. Drowsily, I whispered, “Max?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep.” He stroked my hips then pressed a kiss to my nape. A deep breath escaped him, as if he were exhausted. I’d wanted our first night here to be different, but no matter. Max had so much going on. I was just happy we were back on track.
My eyes snapped open, darkness surrounded me…something felt off. I reached for Max. His side of the bed was warm but empty. I sat up and saw him standing near the window. “Max, what is it?”
Slowly, he turned to me. Shook his head.
Worry surged. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t deal, Logan. I just can’t.” His tortured words slashed at me.
“Deal with what?” I asked, my stomach squeezing in apprehension.
“The nights. Everything gets to me when I try to sleep—I have to go.” He pulled on his clothes.
“Wait—wait!” I threw off the covers, yanked on sweats over my underwear, and raced after his fast-retreating form.
When he opened the front door, I shot after him, down the few steps to his Jeep parked a few cars down. I climbed in as he started the SUV. Without a word, he took off down the street. I had no idea if he was aware I was there with him. He seemed to have retreated into himself. The anguish and pain in his expression tugged at me. No matter, I would help him—do whatever I had to.
Soon, we were on the highway. He was drivin
g too fast. A long while later, he slowed down. I had no idea where we were, probably somewhere near Half Moon Bay. The road was quiet, the ocean glimmered eerily in the moonlight. He parked on the shoulder of the road, barricaded from the steep, several-meters drop with low, snaking rails. He leaped out of the SUV and strode over to the fence. Worried, I got out, shivering in the early morning breeze. Max knelt in front of the barrier, his hands gripping the metal railing.
“Max!” I ran to him, the stones on the curb stabbing my feet, realizing then I’d forgotten my shoes. My heart hurt for him, finally understanding exactly where we were. Dropping to my knees, I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly so he’d know he wasn’t alone.
“I come here, hoping to remember, but it all stays locked inside here.” He stabbed a finger at his temple. The husky, broken words cut me deep. “Look at how far this drop is, Logan. I survived, why didn’t she? Why?”
With no idea what to say, how to ease his torment, I held him tighter, my eyes misting, and pressed my lips to his head.
“It’s my fault she died, Logan, my fault…”
“It was an accident.”
“I was drunk.” The words were an agonized whisper. “I was drunk, Logan.” He buried his face in my chest, his silent tears wetting my skin. At his immense pain, my tears flowed.
A long while later, a shuddering breath escaping him, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve, rose to his feet, and pulled me up with him. I shivered, rubbing the goosebumps dotting my skin. His red-rimmed gaze swept over me, then he hauled off his tee. “Put this on.”
“Max, I’m fine. Let’s get back into the Jeep.”
Without a word, he dragged the t-shirt over my head and waited. I sighed. He was so stubborn. I slipped my arms through the sleeves. His warmth instantly surrounded me. But the lines of pain and grief remained etched on his stark features.
I headed for the driver’s side. “I’ll drive. You rest.”
Before I could climb in, he swept me off my feet, startling a gasp out of me. “Max,” I protested. “Let me drive, please.”
Breathless (Players to Men) Page 20