He shrugged. “It isn’t like it’s a big secret. The tabloids made sure every person on the street knew all my family’s shit.”
“Yeah, hate those dumbasses.” Ray walked in, dumping more dishes on the table. “I feel for you, Maximus, but living with us, you’ll be safe from them.” She disappeared back to the dining room.
“So…” I eyed him carefully. “You hid at my apartment because of the media?”
“You know why I stayed with you,” he said quietly, his gaze holding mine in a way that had my tummy dipping. “After Peru, Jack’s place no longer appealed. I’d changed; I wanted the quiet, something different. Then I met you… Besides, Jack and I practically shared the same crib since birth, and that meant hearing about or seeing the two people I prefer not to.”
“Your dad?”
He cut me a brooding look, said nothing.
Right. “And the other person?”
A tick started in his jaw. “His girlfriend.”
I had no idea what to say. Judging by his tight features, he disliked talking about his family. But Ray was right, he’d be safe from the press living with us. I lived a low-key life—hell, I was practically a recluse.
“Logan, why didn’t you ask me anything after that woman Kate mentioned who I was?” he asked, his expression unreadable as he dried a glass. “Or did you Google me?”
“No,” I huffed. “I didn’t. I’d rather learn things directly from you.”
Max stared at me for a second as if at a loss for words, then he set the glass down and simply wrapped his arms around me, his hard chest pressed to my back. He kissed me softly on my nape as if in gratitude.
A warm, fuzzy feeling took hold of me, warring with my determination to keep this light and only about sex. No, I couldn’t let my guard down, I just couldn’t.
***
A half hour later, I sent Max off to the den so he could catch a replay of a football match with my dad, and I made my way upstairs to my attic bedroom to unpack my clothes. I’d moved in here when I turned fifteen because of the view.
A low, sloped, wooden roof gave my room a cabin-like ambiance. The bay window that overlooked the backyard and the encroaching woods was ideal for painting. I loved this secluded spot, the quiet, the isolation. While Ray was outgoing, I preferred being home, reading my books or painting. Which was why Dad had turned the loft into my little piece of heaven.
Once my things were put away, I crossed to the tiny bathroom and washed my face. Then stared at my reflection in the mirror. Nope, I looked no different. Yet deep within, I felt the shift. The change.
After months of not feeling, now, everything inside me churned with confusion. I recalled the look on Max’s face the day we took the kids to the park. He was good at showing the world the hardass who didn’t give a crap about anyone or anything, but I knew different. Max cared. His pretense hid a world of anger and vulnerability, and it troubled me.
After I had dried my face with a towel, I applied a little moisturizer, then headed downstairs to the guest bedroom—where Dad had relocated their bedroom after Mom’s fall—in search of my mother. I found her engrossed in one of her romances. Reading was the only thing that kept her off her feet and resting. In spite of her setbacks—the illness that had taken over her body since she was twenty and finally knocked her down four years ago—she was still so lovely, serene.
She reclined against the headboard, a pillow at her back. At my entrance, she looked up and smiled, the fine lines at the corners of her golden brown eyes crinkling. She patted the mattress beside her.
I crawled over and lay down, resting my head on her lap. “What is it, love?” Gentle fingers stroked my hair. “You always come to me like this when you’re troubled.”
Did I? I had no idea. But I was glad the slur in her speech had eased. I inhaled a deep breath, trying to settle. Mom continued running her fingers through my hair, then paused as she turned another page. “So, he’s the one,” she said softly.
I froze, my heart clopping hard against my ribs. “Who?”
“Max, dear.”
“Mom. We’re just friends,” I evaded, grimacing at my words. Ugh, Max and I could never be just friends. The hunger between us flared so powerfully, it was a wonder no one got scorched when we were close. I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t ease the need burning in us both. What was he waiting for?
Thankfully, Mom didn’t call me out on my fast denial.
“You were so young when you made that commitment to Devyn,” she said quietly. “I hate that he hurt you, and you shut yourself off from living. But, darling, in life, you get hurt; you pick yourself up and move on. You’ve been alone too long. Spread your wings—fly. Live again. And you will find a love so amazing, it will make what you felt for Devyn pale in comparison.”
Tears misted my eyes. She made it sound so easy. “I don’t know how, Mom… I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. I don’t know Max, but the fact that he’s here, pretending to only be friends because it’s somethingyouwant? It says a lot.”
“Mom—” I shot up from the bed in protest.
