Maximus

by Riley Edwards

  “Because you scare the shit out of me,” I admitted before I thought better of it. “You freak me the fuck out, woman. You make me question everything I thought I knew. You make me think about my life and how I’ve lived it. You make me feel shit I don’t want to feel. You drive me fucking crazy.”

  Eva’s eyes went round and she stood straight before she stumbled back and rested her ass against the cabinet behind her.

  “I… what?”

  “Confuse the hell out of me. That’s what you do. And I can’t figure out why, even though I know better, I can’t stop myself from wanting to get close.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Tell me about it,” I mumbled. “But it’s the damn truth. And I’ll tell you something else, I’m done trying to fight it.”

  “Trying to fight what?”

  “Are you fuckin’ serious?”

  I was done with the distance between us and Eva’s eyes widened as I moved to her and bracketed her with my chest inches from hers and my hands on the countertop near her hips.

  “Do not lie to me and tell me you don’t feel it, too.”

  Her breath was coming out in choppy puffs, fanning across my neck, conjuring up all sorts of illicit memories of her panting while I was pumping inside of her. An activity we would be doing again—and soon.

  “I don’t know what I feel.”

  “Don’t try to bullshit me, Eva. You felt it back in Georgia when I was sittin’ across from you havin’ lunch. I know you did. I know you felt it when I kissed you. I know you felt it when I took you to my bed and fucked you. You feel it the same as me. The question is, why the hell are we fightin’ it?”

  “Because it’s not smart to explore it,” she huffed. “Me being here is temporary.”

  “What if it wasn’t?”

  “And what if pigs—”

  “I’m being serious, don’t be a smartass.”

  Eva’s mouth clamped closed, then some of the sass drained out and sadness crept in.

  “This is hard, Max. Please don’t make it harder.”

  “What’s hard?”

  “All of this. Taking my kids on the run. Everything coming back up. Tex having to help me. Mark Wright getting involved.”

  “Us asking Bubba for help was the right thing to do and it got us one step closer to making you safe.”

  “But it wasn’t fair.”

  “Straight up, babe, get over it. It’s time to move on. Everyone else has, but you.”

  “How do I just get over it?” Eva’s voice pitched higher and she was back to angry.

  “You put it out of your head and move on. You’ve apologized, they’ve forgiven you, it’s way fucking over for everyone. Time to get the fuck on with your life.”

  “I cannot believe you’re saying this to me.”

  “You can’t? Because since you’ve known me, I’ve been pretty damn straightforward and to the point. I don’t know what would’ve given you any indication I’d pussyfoot around something.”

  “You know, that’s rich coming from you. You’re always so quick to give it to me straight when you admit you’re a man with more than a few issues. You hide behind a mask of emotional indifference and call it honesty.”

  “A few issues? Babe, I’m totally fucked up. Something I’ve admitted to you. I also explained it wasn’t something I’ve ever shared with anyone else. I am who I am and I know exactly why I’m that way and I know exactly who made me into this person. But you know what I didn’t know until just yesterday when we walked into this house? I didn’t know that I didn’t like that person. I didn’t know everything I was missing out on, because yes, I was hiding. Though I call it protecting myself from being used and thrown away. Protecting myself from feeling anything that could remotely hurt me. Is that enough honesty for you or do you need more?”

  “You’re still making it harder,” she whispered. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “What wasn’t?”

  “This. Us. Whatever we are. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for you. I can’t just get over things, like you suggest. I’m not wired that way. They eat at me. I dwell on them. Hell, I’m even worried about Ms. Wyman back in Florida getting her groceries since I’m not there. I overthink everything. So what happens when you’re done with me? When you walk away, where does that leave me?”

  Finally some truth. Some openness.

  “I can’t predict the future and I do not make promises I can’t keep. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, next week, or a month from now. But I can tell you that right now in this moment, I want to know you better. I want to travel a road with you I’ve never been on—a path that might dead-end in five feet, or it may just be a beautiful voyage. Either way, I want to walk it with you.”

  “I think I’m too scared to walk that path with you.”

  “Then I’ll carry you.”

  “Don’t say that.” Eva’s eyelids slowly closed and her head tilted down.

  “Eva, take this chance with me.” My hands moved from the edge of the countertop to the soft skin of her neck. My hands framed her pretty face and I waited for her to open her eyes.

  “Max, I don’t know how to. I’ve never had a healthy relationship with a man. I’ve never even had a friendship that wasn’t layered with lies or dysfunction.”

  “Tell me the one thing you’re most afraid of,” I asked.

  “What?” Eva’s lids opened and her eyes locked with mine. “I don’t understand.”

  “That one thing that’s deep inside of you that scares the piss out of you—your greatest fear,” I explained, and waited to see if she’d actually answer.

  “That I’ll turn into my mother,” she whispered.

  “What about her don’t you want to be like?” I pushed.

  “Everything. She’s a drunk. Her and my father both. That’s why I left at fifteen. Not that they noticed. The two of them had each other and their booze. I wasn’t even an afterthought. I was nothing to them.”

  At some point, Tex had told me that when I got to know Eva better I’d find we had a lot in common. He was wrong, we didn’t have a lot, we had damn near the same childhood. Hers was filled with alcohol, mine was filled with fists, but the results were the same. Both of us were the product of a horrendous environment. Neglected by the very people who should’ve loved us but didn’t.

  “So what you’re telling me is, your mother’s a piece of shit.”

  “That’s putting it nicely. Why did you ask what I’m scared of?”

  “Because I wanted to know something about you.” I shrugged. “And people’s fears tell more about them than they think. But actually, your answer plays into what we were talking about before I asked. You say you don’t know how to have a healthy relationship with a man because you’ve never had one.

  “Yet you’re a great mother without having had one yourself. So just because you’ve never had a good example of something, doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

  “Both of us are messed up.”

  “Yep.”

  Then the conversation I had with Declan came racing back, and with great clarity I understood why he was seeing Autumn. He’d said it was the only time he could be himself. But it was more than that.

  “Maybe we’re perfect for each other,” I told her. “Two people who know that life can be cruel and heartless. Two people who have lived through the savagery and made it. Two people who know enough that they’ll appreciate honesty and peace and not forget to value it.”

  “That’s awfully wise, Max.”

  I didn’t know if it was sage or not. What I did know was it was the damn truth.

  “Take a chance, Eva, give me a chance to learn to trust.”

  Her lips twisted and she snorted. “Is that the same as: help me, help you?”

  “Huh?”

  “Jerry Maguire.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Eva’s eyes flared and she smiled. “It’s not a who, Jerry Maguire is a movie starring Tom Crui
se.”

  “Don’t have much time to watch movies, so unless shit’s blowing up, there’s a high speed chase, or my belly aches from laughing, I’m not wasting my time.”

  “Oh, well, never mind, none of those things happen in Jerry Maguire.”

  “What do you say, Eva? You wanna see where this thing between us takes us?”

  “What about the boys?”

  “What about them, baby?”

  “They… us… we come as a package.”

  I couldn’t stop my smile and her declaration. I also couldn’t figure out how to say what I needed to without sounding like I was trying to bullshit her.

  “At the risk of revealing my mommy issues, I know better than most what it says about a woman by the way she treats her children. And the way you are with them tells me you’re someone I want to know, someone I want to be around. So, Eva, I know you come with them, and I can promise you what happens between us doesn’t touch them. Not in any negative way, though I don’t need to even say that to you because I know you’d kick my ass before that happened.”

  “You never said, when you were younger, did you and your mom get away from your dad?”

  “Nope. Black eyes, broken bones, fists, and fights I guess that was all she knew so she stayed and nothing was going to make her leave him. Not even when my bruises got bad enough my school could no longer ignore them and they called the authorities. Not even the police showin’ up at the house. Not even when the social worker sat my mother down and explained I was being removed from the house if my mother didn’t leave my father. When faced with losing her child to the foster care system or staying, she chose her abuser over her son.”

  Eva’s face paled and softened—not in pity but understanding.

  Yep, this was exactly what Declan was talking about. If I’d shared that with anyone else they would’ve felt sorry for me, but not Eva. She understood the hell I went through because she’d lived through her own.

  “Did the social worker find you a good home?”

  “Good?” I huffed. “If you equate not catching my old man’s fist but instead being used as a meal ticket by my aunt and uncle who basically ignored me but enjoyed the fuck out of the money my dad was ordered to pay, then yes, I found a good home.”

  “That doesn’t sound good, honey,” Eva whispered, and I let the warmth of her voice wash over me before it settled in my chest where it burned. “Just to say, none of that sounds great, but I’d rather be ignored than hit.”

  Yeah, Eva got it.

  None of it was great. But only someone who’d lived in shit understood that sometimes you didn’t get great, you took what you could get, and made the moves you needed to make to get yourself out.

  “That was the plus-side of living with the vultures,” I confirmed.

  “I hope your arms are strong, Max,” Eva said in the same soft tone. “I don’t know how far I’ll be able to walk before you’ll have to carry me.”

  Fuck. She was going to take a chance.

  Now what?

  I didn’t think it was the right time for jokes so I bit back a retort reminding her just how strong my arms were and tried to think of something to say—something that would solidify that she made the right choice. But I’d never done this before. I didn’t know how to do romance and heart-to-hearts.

  I wanted to tell her my shoulders were broad and solid. I could carry her for miles and not break a sweat. But I didn’t think that was right, either.

  So I settled for, “When you stumble, I promise to catch you.”

  Chapter 23

  If I had thought that last night after our talk Max was going to take me back to his room, where upon entering, he would strip me naked and commence preparing me for hours of mind-blowing sex—I would’ve been wrong.

  Not that that’s what I was hoping for or anything.

  What I had not expected was the slow tender kiss he gave me. I hadn’t been ready for his soft touches as his thumbs grazed my jaw when he’d held my face. And when he broke the kiss and his icy blue eyes held mine, I felt more exposed than I ever had in my life.

  He was searching for something. Not that he verbalized what he was looking for, but I could tell he was examining me all the same.

  I allowed this to go on for a long time. Us standing in the kitchen just staring at each other. For me it was about disbelief. I’d agreed to something I didn’t fully understand but I did recognize the significance. Max was offering me himself and a chance to see if our attraction to one another was more than just that—attraction. Which if I was being honest with myself, I already knew it was more, my heart had fully engaged and that scared the hell out of me.

  I’d been down this road twice before. Two times I’d rolled the dice and came up a loser.

  Either the third time was the charm or it would be the third strike and I’d be out.

  I was absolutely crazy and I knew it.

  But Max was unlike anyone I’d ever met. His sometimes brutal honesty was refreshing—it was comforting. I knew where I stood with him. He didn’t pull punches or have time for bullshit. Max Brown was who he was—through and through.

  I liked that.

  So last night, Max had kissed me sweetly then sent me to bed—alone.

  Well, not alone, the boys were in bed with me and that was where I lay for hours wide awake. Our conversation replayed, the taste of him still on my tongue, and confusion about what I’d agreed to plagued my mind.

  Now it was morning and I was sitting on the couch, my boys on either side of me and the TV was on but the volume was low because Max was still sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him.

  That, and I was enjoying some alone time with the kids. It felt like forever since we’d just lounged around, even though it had only been days since we left Florida.

  There was so much to think about yet I didn’t want to. I wanted a day where no one mentioned contract killers, explosions, or attempted murder. I also wanted a day where I wasn’t worried about moving, buying a car, finding a job, or figuring out what I needed to do to enroll Liam in school when summer was over.

  And then there was the issue that Eva Dawson no longer existed, so what happened to the small amount of money I’d managed to save—it was in a bank account that now belonged to no one. Was that all gone?

  No, I didn’t need a day, I needed a whole year.

  “Babe?”

  My head swung toward the sound of Max’s voice. “Jeez, you scared me.”

  “Sorry, I thought you heard me.” Damn, the man’s voice was sexy.

  Deep. Rumbly. Sleep rough.

  Nice.

  “No, I was woolgathering.”

  “I guessed that. You looked a million miles away.”

  “Not a million—just down in Florida.”

  Max’s expression went from lazy and sleepy to high-alert.

  “What about Florida?”

  I gave Max a quick shake of my head and hoped he’d understand I didn’t want to have that conversation in front of the boys.

  When he clenched his jaw but remained silent, I turned to Elijah. “You ready for breakfast?”

  “Scrambled eggs?”

  “If that’s what you want.” Eli nodded and looked over at Liam. “That cool with you, bud?”

  “Bacon, too?” he asked, smiling.

  “Sure thing,” I said and returned the grin.

  “Morning, boys.”

  “Morning, Max,” Liam happily chirped.

  “Morning, Max,” Eli parroted.

  With a kiss to each of the boy’s heads I stood and made my way into the kitchen, Max hot on my heels, and suddenly I was nervous.

  “You okay?” he asked as soon as we were out of the kids sight.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” I returned.

  “Why would you ask me that?”

  I busied myself getting a mug out of the cabinet and poured Max some coffee. I used the creamer that was already on the counter and added a splash into the ste
aming cup a’ Joe before I offered it to Max.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked when he stared at the mug instead of taking it.

  “You know how I like my coffee,” he noted and took it from me.

  “Um, yeah, I’ve watched you make it a few times now.”

  Max kept staring at me like I’d built a rocket ship and not just splashed and stirred some liquids together.

  “Why were you thinking about Florida?” he asked, abandoning his earlier question and the strange response to me making him coffee.

  “I was just thinking about all of the stuff I didn’t want to think about today,” I sighed.

  “Come again?”

  “It would be nice to have one day where I didn’t have to think about contract killers, explosions, or attempted murder,” I echoed my thoughts. “And that made me think of something that Tex said yesterday. He wiped my identity so I was wondering what happens now and what about the money I had in the bank, is that gone? I also started thinking about the boys and how I’m going to have to enroll Liam in school in a few weeks. And what about a job? I guess I need to call my boss and quit. Then there’s the lease on—”

  “Whoa, Eva. Slow down.” Max stepped closer to me and I inhaled his fresh, clean scent. He must’ve showered. “Babe?”

  “Yeah?” I blinked up at him.

  “You zoned out again.”

  “I did?”

  “Yeah. Your nose scrunched and your eyes went hazy.”

  “I was just thinking about you in the shower.” Max’s deep rumble of laughter jolted me to continue. “No, I wasn’t thinking about you in the shower. I was thinking that you smelled good—so you must’ve taken a shower.”

  My explanation in no way calmed his amusement, if anything, he laughed harder.

  “Thanks, I guess. I’m not sure if that’s a backhanded way of telling me I don’t smell good unless I’m freshly showered, or if I’m flattered you’re thinking about me in the shower.”

  “Why would that flatter you?”

  “Because I like that you’re thinking about me naked, wet, and soapy.”

  My face flamed, because I hadn’t gotten that far in my contemplation of him showering. But now that he mentioned it, I couldn’t stop picturing him just as he’d described—naked, wet, and soapy. Then I started wondering if he’d think I was weird if I asked him to join me while I showered later because I really wanted to see him naked, wet, and soapy.