Her angular jaw tightened. “I’m his…psychiatrist.”
This was Max’s shrink? The vise in my stomach intensified.
“He needs to heal. He comes to me because he cannot cope with what he’s going through, and now you—” she said the word like I was something repugnant. “You are destroying him.”
“Me? How do I do that? I help him.”
“Max needs me. You set him back. I’m the only one that can give him everything he requires.”
At the furious flicker in her pale eyes, then I knew.
Max had been intimate with this woman. And he continued to see her.
Feeling as if I couldn’t breathe, as if I was drowning and there was nothing to anchor me, I shoved past her and walked out.
Chapter Seventeen
Max
Sunlight drenched the bedroom when I woke. But I was alone. Logan’s side of the bed was empty. I squinted at the brightness, and out of habit, rubbed my brow. Then stilled. There was no pain, no pounding head this morning. My gaze lit on the digital clock in shock. Three hours—I’d slept for just over three hours straight.
She’d helped me. She’d done that for me.
Emotions overwhelmed me. No one had cared enough to push me like she had. Yeah, I’m not the easiest bastard to get on with, but Logan saw through to the heart of me. She understood me.
I grabbed my cell and called her. But it went unanswered. Damn, she must be busy.
Deciding to call her later, I made my way to the bathroom, a lightness inside me I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Ten minutes later, I stepped out of the shower, hitched a towel around my waist, and headed for the bedroom when my cell rang. I snatched it off the nightstand.
Jack. “Let’s hit the beach. I need the waves.”
Still worried about him, Jack was worse than me when in the dumps, I agreed, deciding to call Logan when I got back. “On my way.”
It was nearly twelve when I got back from an exhausting, but exhilarating few hours of surfing, Jack’s poison of choice when he was pissing mad. He liked fighting the waves. He hadn’t spoken much but had seemed in a better frame of mind when we parted. It was a deal we’d made, if he needed to surf, he would call me. Because Jack did dangerous things when angry. I didn’t trust him alone while riding the turbulent waves. But then, we were two of a kind. He’d kept my ass safe one too many times with my proclivity for fighting.
Showered and changed, I called Logan. Still no answer.
Frowning, I rang the store, and immediately recognized the cool tones of her boss, Kate. “I need to speak with Lo—Ila.”
“Me, too. I want to know where the heck she is, and what was she thinking walking out, without a word, in the middle of a work day.”
She walked out of her job? Why would she do that?
With no clue where she could have gone to, I paced the living room, ending at the window, searching the street. I called her again. She answered.
Relief smashed my worry. “Dammit, Logan, you don’t answer your cell—you walk out of your job—what’s going on? Where are you?”
“I-I’m okay.”
At the huskiness in her voice, a vise fisted my belly. She sounded upset. “Is this because of what happened at Jack’s? I thought everything between us had been settled this morning.” Silence. “Logan, what the hell’s going on? Tell me,” I demanded.
“Max, please. I can’t do this now. I…I need time.” The line went dead. I clenched my fingers around the device so I wouldn’t fling it across the room. Need time for what?
As time crawled by like a snail on a fucking cruise, my thoughts continued fluctuating between worried and pissed off.
Ray flew through the front door and dumped her bag and books on the dining table. “Hey, Maximus, where’s Ila?”
