A tick pulsed hard on his rigid jaw. “Logan, if I stay, I’ll probably hurt him and ruin things between us. It’s best I’m out of the way. I’ll see you later.”
Watching him walk away, my stomach hurt. I lowered to the stool, wishing this evening was already over.
Titus arrived a few minutes later. Normally, I painted for a few hours straight when with a client and didn’t feel the passage of time—now, it felt like I was walking up Pine with a boulder shackled to each ankle as I worked.
After Titus left, I paced the living room, checking the street, but there was no sign of Max. Heart heavy, I finally went to bed.
It was long past midnight when I heard the front door squeak open. I glanced at the neon-lit time on the nightstand mocking me at the lateness of the hour. 1:06 a.m. Angry and hurt, and knowing about the parties his friend held, I listened for his footsteps on the stairs. But only silence answered me.
My anxiety growing, I slid off the bed and made my way downstairs. I found him seated on the couch in the dark.
“Max?” I switched on the lamp on a side table. His head was tilted back, eyes shut.
“You shouldn’t have waited up for me.”
The resigned tone of his voice hit me hard, and the truth clamped my chest like a vise. He was hurting because of me—because of the work I did. Caught in a hard place… God knew I didn’t want to paint nudes, but I didn’t have many choices. I sat beside Max, put my hand on his clenched one, and struggled to find the words to explain, especially considering I’d told him we were doing okay financially. “I’m sorry. I know you hate it, but it will be over in a few days.”
Those green eyes flicked to me. “You could give him back his check.”
Oh. Jesus. “I can’t.”
“What do you meancan’t…?” Then his entire body stilled. Eyes narrowed. “Or, is it that you won’t? Is money that important to you, Logan?” he asked, stony now.
Max should have slapped me and it would have hurt less. I pulled my hand away from his. “Right now, yes, it is,” I said, breathing through my hurt.
“Goddammit!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate that you see him naked and that he gets a fucking hard-on.Christ. It’s all I could see in my head the entire evening.” His voice filled with torment. “It’s pure torture, Logan. I can’t—” He broke off. “What do you mean ‘right now?’”
“Because I don’t have the check. I gave it to my father.”
Slowly, he sat up. “Why?”
I stared at my laced fingers. “I told you about Mom’s strokes. The bills piled up and were astronomical. Insurance covered some, but we have to pay the rest. Dad works from home, so he’s close because she cannot be alone, and…”
“And a caregiver costs money,” he said quietly.
I nodded. “So everything I do, I send half the money home.” I blinked the tears away. “With Ray still in school, it’s hard. But she does what she can, too.”
Max reached out and stroked my cheek. “Let me help, Logan—”
“Thank you, but no.” I gave him a wan smile. “We’ll be okay. It will just take some time... I must seem selfish to you not to care about my mom, to live here when they need me—”
He took my hands in his, his thumb caressing my skin. “You aren’t selfish, baby. You were hurting—your heart was broken.”
“No, you don’t know, there’s more. When Devyn and I broke up, I-I quit my job, stayed home for a while to look after Mom. I managed at first because I was so angry with him, then the anger died, and pain and despair took over. It got so bad…”
I struggled to swallow past the lump in my throat and not let the tears fall. “With me in that state, it wasn’t good for Mom’s recovery. She started to get agitated. Aunt Mary insisted that I leave Millbrae. She got me the job at Kate’s, and that’s where I met my landlady, Mrs. Renner. She owns this place”—I waved my hand around the apartment—“she needed a short-term tenant, and offered me the place at minimal rent. I took over and started painting again. Mrs. Renner saw my work and asked me to do her portrait. When she paid me, I realized I could help Dad financially.”
Max pulled me onto his lap and wrapped his arms around me. “And I acted like a jealous prick. Truth is, I can’t stomach the thought of him near you in that way.”
I pulled back, as much as his arms allowed. “I don’t see Titus like that. He’s work. Only you get me hot with just a look, a smile. No one but you.”
He lowered his brow to mine. “I want you, Logan, so bad—I want everything that is you. I want to be the one that heals the shattered pieces of your heart and fills it with love and warmth. God knows you do that for me.”
My stomach tensed at his words. I whispered, “Max?”
He pressed his lips on mine, silencing my question. Why did I get the feeling, he wanted to say more, then changed his mind? And his kiss was nothing like his usual seductive ones, but soft and overwhelmingly tender as he picked me up and strode upstairs…
***
