by K. A Knight
“It hates me,” I whine, pouting a little, forcing myself to enjoy our time together. I had pushed too hard last night on questions and he closed up. He was still here, but it was like he disappeared, and when he walked me home, he didn’t speak apart from a soft “Goodnight.”
Why can’t he see how much I crave him? Does he not feel the same? Sometimes, I think he does, like now.
He continues to massage my feet, ignoring his laptop which pings, and focuses fully on me. “You’ll get it, you always do. I’ll make you tea. Why not work on something else for a little bit?” he suggests and I nod, it’s a good idea.
He squeezes my toes before laying his laptop on the coffee table and getting up and stretching. My mouth goes dry as his shirt rises up, showing off his chiselled abs. He catches me looking and smirks before leaning down and kissing the top of my head. Without skipping a beat, he moves into the kitchen, and I hear the kettle boiling as he opens the cupboards.
A goofy smile crosses my face then. He’s been doing that for the last two weeks or so now, touching me more. He doesn’t even seem to notice sometimes. Like yesterday, he grabbed my hand and held it as we crossed a road, and when he got to the other side, he looked puzzled as he looked at our joined hands, like he hadn’t even realised he had reached for me.
Lifting my laptop carefully, I place it in his seat as I curl up into the side of the sofa, letting my mind wander for a moment. Hopefully, if I take a break, it will help me focus more so I can finish this damn book cover. Everyone else seems to think it’s done, but there is something still bugging me. It’s not perfect yet, and Max gets that, offering helpful advice as often as he can.
His laptop dings again, drawing my eyes. Sitting up slightly, I look towards the kitchen, but I can hear him still banging around in there, so I lean closer to the laptop screen, frowning at what I see. There are what looks like CCTV cameras in the top right, and to the left is some scrolling information, which I have no chance of catching, never mind understanding. It pings again, a little symbol bouncing in the bottom right corner. It looks like four, thick red lines making up a diamond with a fancy looking ‘C’ in the middle. I debate clicking on it, beyond curious. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I scan the screen again. What is he doing?
It only makes me question everything else I’ve heard about him. I know Max, I do…but how well?
I hear him pouring the kettle, so I quickly lean back and grab my laptop, pretending I was working on it the whole time. My eyes dart to his laptop again and again, but when he comes into the room and sets a cup of tea on the table for me, I smile at him. Maybe he hasn’t told me everything, but I know enough about him, and he will tell me the rest when he’s ready, so I try to bite my tongue as he sits down and grabs his laptop, typing away with a frown on his face again.
Milo rolls over, obviously waking up, and lays his head on my leg, looking at me sadly and making me laugh. Reaching down, I scratch his head, cooing and talking to him softly as he closes his eyes and wags at me.
“Why did you name him Milo?” I find myself asking, as I play with the pooch in question.
I feel Max go rigid and silent, so I scratch Milo and then lean back and look at Max. “Did I say something wrong?” I inquire, confused by the pained expression that crosses his face before he wipes it clean.
“No.” He shakes his head, sighing before shutting the laptop and turning to face me. I shut mine as well, and he grabs my legs, draping them on his lap as he strokes the skin there, his gaze far away. “It’s just…” He shakes his head again and looks at me.
The pain in his eyes steals my breath, it’s all-consuming and I can tell it’s tearing him up inside. Sitting up, I place my laptop on the table and cover his hands on my legs. “You don’t have to tell me,” I say softly. He shivers then, swallowing hard, and glances away before he seems to force himself to look at me, his pain still shining back at me. In those dark depths, I see ghosts there, and I know Max has had a hard life. I should have guessed, but seeing it so obviously reflected back at me makes me want to climb into his arms and hold him.
“I do, it’s just…” He trails off, his lips thinning.
“Hard?” I offer, squeezing his hand.
He nods, looking at my hand on top of his, and seems to slump into the sofa. “I want to tell you everything, Scarlett, I really do, but I’ve never had someone to share anything with. I struggle with it, with talking to someone, letting them in. The only person I ever let in was…Milo,” he finishes and I swallow.
That’s when it hits me, the picture, the only person he let close…I had forgotten about this until now. I have to be careful how I approach this, he is clearly still hurting.
“Was he in the army with you?” I ask.
He grins at me. “Should have known you would figure it out, too fucking smart, baby girl,” he replies with a snort.
I grin as he leans his head back on the sofa, watching me, and turns his hand upside down, twining our fingers together. “I met him in basic, he was so different than me. He was loud where I was quiet, and where I hid everything inside, learning to hide everything at an early age, he was so…full. He wore it all on his sleeve, he was the class clown, and everyone loved him.”
“He sounds amazing,” I whisper, and he smiles sadly.
“He was, we were unlikely friends, but when you’re on tour…it happens. We bonded and we became like brothers, we had both always wanted one. He had five sisters, and I had no siblings, so we just become each other’s family. He never asked why I didn’t go home when on leave, he just brought me with him. His family took me in, taught me what it felt like to be loved and cared for. I spent holiday there with them and then went back on tour with him. He was my best friend.” He squeezes my hands harder then, his words rough at the end.
“What happened to him?” I ask, fearing what I already know.
“He died,” he says gruffly, his eyes shining, and I know he loved him. This man, Milo, gave Max a family, a brother, and then he lost him. Pain fractures through me for him, so fuck the consequences, he needs it. He doesn’t know it, he doesn’t even know how to ask for it, that’s for sure, so I’ll make sure I pay attention and give it without being asked—comfort.
I clamber over the sofa and into his lap. He freezes against me, not speaking as I curl up into his chest, lying my head there and hearing the racing of his heart. Eventually, his arms wind around me and he squeezes me so tight it steals my breath again, but I hold on. He lays his head on top of mine, surrounding me with his heat. “He died because of me, I have to live with that,” he confesses, almost low enough that I don’t hear it.
Stroking his chest, I close my eyes and concentrate on his words. “What do you mean?”
He squeezes me tighter. “We were on patrol, it was supposed to be easy, so we were joking around. I was hungover, so I wasn’t paying attention.” He blows out a breath. “He tackled me to the ground before I heard the gunfire. I was fighting to get him off me to get my gun when I felt something warm dripping in my eyes.” He shivers then, and I hold him tighter. “He took the bullets meant for me, he died before they could even med-vac him. KIA…because of me. Scarlett, it was my fault. I hadn’t been paying attention. I knew it was too quiet, but I didn’t even think about it. I led us both into a trap and he died protecting me.” His voice is thick and choked, and I don’t know what else to do to help him, because nothing will heal this hurt.
I feel something wet hit my hair and it breaks my heart. I don’t look up because I don’t want him to close off, to stop showing me this, letting himself be vulnerable with me, to share with me. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, then clear my throat, my own eyes thick with tears for the man holding me. “But, Max, you need to listen to me. It wasn’t your fault.”
He freezes then, and before he can pull away, I lift my head, letting him see the truth in my eyes. He glances away, trying to close down, but I see tears on his face so I cup his jaw, guiding his eyes back to mine even as he t
ries to pull away. “Grieve him, you’re allowed to, you’re allowed to feel pain and cry, Max. It doesn’t make you any less. He died and I can’t begin to imagine how much that hurts, and I’m so sorry, Max, but he did it protecting you. He loved you, I can tell that from the picture upstairs. Would you have done the same? Jumped in front of him knowing the consequences?” I demand.
He nods.
“Exactly, you didn’t kill him, Max. He died protecting his brother, someone he loved, don’t take that away from him. Grieve him, feel the pain, but don’t let it ruin you, because even though I didn’t know him, I know he loved you and I know he wouldn’t want you to pull away from the world because of him. He would want you to be happy, to live and laugh.” I look between his eyes as I talk, needing him to hear me.
He swallows hard. “I don’t know how. Not without him,” he admits.
I lean closer, pressing my forehead to his as I straddle his lap, and he holds me against him like he might break apart without me. “Then we learn together, make this life whatever we want. We try and try until we get it right, fuck what everyone else thinks,” I growl.
He looks into my eyes, searching them. “How did I get so lucky?” he whispers.
I kiss his forehead and relax into him. “Do you still see his family?”
He shakes his head. “I couldn’t, I stayed for the funeral, but…but they welcomed me with such open arms. His mother cried into my chest, but then told me she was so glad I was there, that I was safe. Scarlett, I couldn’t look at them without thinking of his blood on my hands. They lost their son, their brother, because of me, so I left before I got them killed too.”
“Oh, baby,” I whisper, shaking my head. “They loved you too, they just needed you to be there with them, to feel their pain and help remember the man they loved. They didn’t blame you, only you did. Maybe when you feel like you can, you should go and see them. I’m betting they miss you too,” I say softly, stroking his cheek. He leans into it, his eyes closed.
“I don’t know if I can,” he discloses, then blinks open his eyes. “But maybe…could you come with me? If I decide to go?” he asks, and my heart squeezes.
Max Hunt, why are you so easy to love? I want to ask him, but I don’t.
“Always,” I reply, curling back into his chest so he doesn’t see the truth of what I’m feeling in my eyes. He wraps his arms around me again and we sit like that, holding each other, both of us lost in our own thoughts, but still together in person.
I owe this Milo everything, because of him, Max is still alive and here with me. That man saved his life, and let him come and find me, and I will always be grateful to the man I’ll never meet for saving him, loving him, and teaching him he’s capable of love and worth it, because what I can tell is that Max had a hard childhood, maybe as hard as mine. No wonder we drifted together.
Pain calls to pain…will our love heal us?
My phone vibrates as I’m singing along to The Killers with Max grinning over at me. I ignore it, and carry on dancing and singing as we pull up at the university. I kiss his cheek goodbye, and slip from the car with his promise to pick me up, making me almost skip as I walk away to meet Nadia for our first lecture. I wait in front of the building, knowing she’s probably running late, so I pull my phone from my bag to check who text me. I groan when I spot my ex’s name.
Reggie: Really? Not going to reply to me? At all?
Reggie: Fucking stuck up bitch, always thinking you’re better than me.
My eyes fly wide at this. What the hell is his problem?
Reggie: I suggest you reply, you forget I have some pictures I’m betting you don’t want going public. Would ruin your whole good girl image.
My heart skips a beat as my lungs freeze up…is he threatening me? What the fuck? I let him take those pictures in confidence when we were together, when I thought I loved him and believed he loved me too. Would he really share them across the internet, just because I won’t reply to his texts? Panic claws at me. I trusted him, I almost loved him, and he’s going to use things we did in our relationship against me now?
Me: What do you want? I quickly type back, the world fading around me.
I don’t want anyone seeing those pictures. My body is my own, and those images should have been deleted when we broke up. What sort of person would use them against someone? Oh God, Max. What would he think if he saw them? What if they didn’t get taken down? How could I face people knowing they have seen me in my most intimate moments? Tears fill my eyes and I quickly rush inside the building, heading to the bathroom on the third floor. It’s empty, so I throw the lock and slide down the door, wiping at the tears.
Okay, Scarlett, it’s okay, we can solve this. My heart is in my throat, and a sick feeling churns my stomach as I wait impatiently for him to text me back.
Reggie: That got your attention, huh? Remember these?
Everything in me goes cold as image after image comes through. Some I remember him taking, and others I definitely didn’t consent to. Scrambling across the tiled floor, I push into a stall and throw up the contents of my stomach, feeling sick and dirty all at the same time.
He violated me, took images I didn’t allow him to, and now he’s threatening me with them. The tears finally start to fall. What the hell am I going to do? Wiping my mouth, I flush the toilet and lean back in the stall. I can’t seem to look away from the images. I look so happy in the ones I knew he was taking, smiling at the camera, his white shirt open and showing my whole chest, with only some lace panties covering my bottom half as I’m crouched on his bed. It had been for fun, something we shared…fuck. I swallow down more bile, wondering how I could have misread him so badly.
I scroll through the images, stopping at the ones I didn’t know he had taken. In one, I’m asleep, with the covers kicked off and fully naked. I’m lying on my front, but from the angle you can see a lot. In the next one, I’m in the shower, my head tilted back and my eyes closed as I wash my hair. It’s the last one that has me heaving into the toilet again though. My heart shatters in my chest. How could someone you trusted with your body and heart turn around and hurt you so badly? Is it not enough he cheated on me and ruined any trust I had in men? Is he trying to fully wreck me?
A message pings up from Nadia, but I ignore it, my phone still open on the picture. It’s a shot from behind. I’m on my hands and knees with my head down and his hands on my hips as he’s fucking me. If you didn’t know it was me, you might not recognise who it is, but I know and I have never felt so dirty and violated in my whole life. What else has he done with these images?
Me: Please, please delete them.
I try, hoping he will.
Reggie: Not a chance. Now why don’t we talk about what you’re going to do to make sure I don’t post these?
A scream claws at my throat as I throw my phone across the tiles, covering my face with my hands. Someone tries the door, but I ignore them as I try to hold myself together. Eventually they give up and when I can, I crawl to my phone. I open the text from Nadia, seeing four come through.
Nadia: Yo, you running late?
Nadia: Where are you?
Nadia: Scarlett, seriously, I’m freaking out, this isn’t like you!
Nadia: Text me back! Are you okay? Are you sick? Do you need me?
I sob then, the screen blurring as I type with shaking fingers.
Me: I need you, third floor bathroom.
It’s all I can get out before I cover my face and hold in my screams and sobs. I manage to get to my feet, stumbling across the room and turning on the cold water. I scrub at face and hands, my body crawling with disgust as my mind flashes back on those images and the text he sent after. Leaning my head against the porcelain, I try to breathe through the pain.
A loud knock at the door has me jumping and looking over with wide, red eyes.
“Scar, it’s me, you in there? Let me in!” She tries the handle as I stagger across the room. I shield myself with the door and open i
t as she slips inside, and I lock it quickly, not wanting anyone else to see me like this.
She takes one look at me and narrows her eyes. “Who am I killing? Is it Max? ‘Cause he’s big, but I reckon I could take him, you know?” she threatens, puffing up in indignation.
I snort, but it turns into a sob and her eyes widen as she rushes over to me and pulls me into a hug. “Hey, hey, Scar, shush, it’s going to be okay. What happened? I’ve never seen you like this,” she asks, worry lacing her tone.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper into her shoulder, and she pulls back and looks at my face.
Hers is angry and stern at the same time. “Tell me what happened, we can figure it out together,” she demands in her bossy voice she uses with her grandmother.
I nod at my phone, unable to say the words. She frowns and lets go as she picks it up and starts scrolling through. Wrapping my arms around myself, I lean against the wall and feel my cheeks heat in mortification. I feel so exposed and dirty, and if this is how I feel with my best friend seeing them, how will I feel if he posts them? Shame courses through me as the minutes stretch on, her face getting angrier and angrier until she explodes.
“I’ll kill him!” she yells, and I shake my head.
“He will just post them, Nadia. What do I do?” I beg, hoping she will help me see a way out.
“Call Max, he’ll know.”
I cringe then. “No, I don’t want him to know this.”
“Scar, he’s going to find out. You need to call him, he might know how to get this stopped.”
“I can’t, please, I can’t tell him. This is my mess, how do I solve it?” I implore, hoping she’ll have some ideas.
“Scarlett, listen to me, this isn’t right. This is blackmail, it’s-it’s fucking revenge porn! You can’t let him get away with this! If he’s doing it to you, how many other girls has he done it to? Are you really going to let him get away with it, to hurt someone else? What’s to say he won’t post them anyway?” she snaps, and then softens her tone. “Scarlett, you’re the strongest person I know, are you really going to back down because you’re scared?”