“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?”
