Chapter Twenty-Seven
MAX SPENT THE long flight praying that she could carry out her plan, then second- and third-guessing it altogether. Several times she’d been ready to nix the whole thing, and by the time she arrived in Washington she was a nervous wreck. After listening to Treat’s message, she felt sick to her stomach. It was bad enough that his father was ill, but that she wasn’t there with him because of Ryan made her feel a hundred times worse. In his message, Treat had asked her again not to see Ryan alone, but now it was more important than ever that she finally lay her past to rest so she could focus on their future. Despite the ache in her heart, she had to believe she was doing the right thing.
She checked into a hotel near the airport and riffled through her clothes, looking for just the right thing to wear. Something that said, I’m strong and capable. You didn’t break me.
Hopefully not forever, at least.
After shuffling through her clothes, trying on a few outfits, and shedding tears, Max knew what she had to wear. She went to the front pocket of her suitcase, where she’d stuffed Treat’s T-shirt that she’d slept in. She inhaled the scent of the man she loved and then pulled it on. Tucking it in was interesting, to say the least, since it hung almost to her knees. She finally gave up and gathered the long shirt in her hands, tying the bottom into a knot at her waist. She threw a sweatshirt on over it and put on her most comfortable jeans, then stared at the two pairs of shoes she’d brought to the Cape.
Sneakers. In case I freak out and have to bolt.
THE CROWNE INN was built on the flattest piece of ground Max had ever seen. It stood alone among parking lots and grassy lawn. There was no place to hide. She drove slowly past the hotel, scoping out the place where she would finally confront her demons. The building looked like any other hotel, a few stories high, big windows, mostly curtained, and a circular drive that led to a covered entrance.
As fear bloomed inside her, settling in her gut like lead, she tried to remember why she’d thought going there made sense. She turned the car around, driving by the hotel in the other direction, contemplating getting back on the highway and returning home. She crossed in front of the hotel two more times, until she was sure the police would spot her and arrest her for stalking. That would be just my luck.
She surveyed the parking lot again, and a shiver ran down her back. The hotel was far off the beaten track. Anything could happen out here. Maybe that was Ryan’s plan. Lure her to a remote location and do something horrible to her. He’d said he had something to talk to her about. Maybe that was a ruse. Wait—she’d contacted him. She was being stupid. They were in a public place. She’d be fine. She hoped.
She parked at the far end of the parking lot, giving herself plenty of time on the walk inside to change her mind and turn back. She held on to the hem of Treat’s T-shirt, trying to remain courageous. When she reached the entrance, she stopped and breathed deeply. She paced the sidewalk, then unzipped her sweatshirt so she could see Treat’s shirt beneath, pulling forward memories of the way he cared for her, the way he’d nurtured her strength and her heart. That’s what she wanted, to be loved and to heal. She had to do this. To cleanse herself from the memories that stalked her like prey and pulled her back from every forward step she took.
Inhaling deeply, and feeling like she was living on deep breaths, she entered the hotel. A burly, dark-haired man glanced up from behind a newspaper in the lobby as Max walked past.
The perky woman behind the desk smiled and said, “Welcome to the Crowne Inn.”
Her high-pitched enthusiasm cut right through Max’s anxiety like a knife, causing her to freeze in the middle of the large, open lobby. Walk. Leave. Do something! Her mind warred with itself, confusing her legs into unmovable pillars. Was she insane? This was the worst idea ever!
She finally managed to turn around and headed for the doors. She was not staying here.
“Max?”
The hairs on the back of Max’s neck stood on end at the sound of Ryan’s voice. She was vaguely aware of the man who had been reading the newspaper rising to his feet. She clenched her fists against the fear crashing over her and reminded herself that she was superbly strong.
She forced herself to turn around, trying her best to feign a smile, but the way her teeth were grinding together, she knew she hadn’t pulled it off.
She could hardly breathe as she looked at the man she’d trusted and thought she’d loved. The man who had hurt her so badly, she’d fled like a thief in the night. He wore a dark blue suit with a gold badge over his breast pocket that read RYAN COBAIN, HOTEL MANAGER, and he was smiling as if he was truly glad to see her. That’s not what he’d looked like at the end, in those weeks she’d spent stifled by his aggression.
He took a step forward, and again she had no control over her legs as they took a step back.
He stilled, his gaze turning apologetic. “Max?”
She willed herself to stand tall, and this time her body obeyed. She looked down at Treat’s shirt, wishing she had dressed a little nicer. Ryan had an edge on her in his nice suit and on his turf. Wait! What am I thinking? I am in control. She willed herself to pull it together, straightening her spine as she drew her shoulders back. She felt the familiar strength she’d called upon so often with her career, the powerful energy that began in her gut and traveled into her limbs.
She took a step forward, then another. She could do this! She extended her hand. “Ryan,” she said in a frosty tone she didn’t recognize.
He took her hand and buried it within both of his. She steeled herself against the initial jolt of panic.
“So good to see you, Max. You look gorgeous, of course.”
“Thank you.”
He motioned toward a door beside the front desk. “We can talk in my office.”
Public. Stay in sight of others. “You know, I’d really like a cup of coffee. Is there a restaurant on-site?”
“Sure.”
She walked beside him down a wide hallway, stealing glances out of her peripheral vision. He didn’t seem nervous, and he wasn’t acting sketchy. In fact, he seemed like the old Ryan, the guy he’d been before he changed—comfortable, confident. He led her to a small, dimly lit restaurant, where they were seated at a table off to the side.
“I was surprised to hear from you,” Ryan said. He called over the waitress and ordered a cup of coffee for Max and a glass of water for himself.
Max watched his mannerisms and found them to be reflective of the guy she’d met when they’d first begun dating. Gone were the jumpy eyes and fast, uncontrolled movements she remembered. It was a mask; she was sure of it. A game he’s just gotten better at.
Ryan said something she didn’t quite hear. She was too busy remembering how he’d changed over the duration of their relationship. She’d spent so much time living in the shadow of the man he’d become, she’d all but buried the man he’d once been. Now, as she saw this new version of him, she remembered the better times, how quickly they’d hit it off and become more than friends. They’d had months of laughs and happy times. She remembered moving in together and how good she’d felt about it.
The waitress brought their drinks. Max noticed the man from the lobby seated at a nearby table and wondered how she’d missed him coming in.
“Max? Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, realizing she’d zoned out. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again after—”
Max dropped her eyes, then silently scolded herself for doing it. This was her ball game. Treat’s voice gave her strength once again. You took care of you, Max, and that makes you supremely strong.
She’d thought of all sorts of ways to handle Ryan, and in the end she fell back on her fail-safe. Honesty. “I surprised myself,” Max admitted, “but I wanted to…I needed closure.”
“I tried to track you down for weeks after you left, Max. Your parents wouldn’t answer my calls. You, well, you never answered anything—calls, emails.”
She wouldn’t apologize for not responding. She wouldn’t apologize for anything.
Ryan held her gaze and said, “I finally found you in Colorado.”
You tracked me down? Every muscle in her body tensed.
“You worked for a small film company, then a festival company. I’ve written you dozens of letters and emails over the years, but never had the courage to send them.”
You stalked me. What if you had shown up in Allure? What would you have done?
“In the end,” he said, “I knew it was unfair to reach out to you.”
Ryan kept eye contact with her, which she found unsettling and reassuring at the same time. People who had something to hide avoided eye contact. Why wasn’t he acting like he’d done something so wrong to her that it had ruined her ability to have a real relationship?
“I would have fled if I’d known you’d found me again,” Max said with her chin held high.
“I don’t blame you,” he said, and this time it was he who lowered his gaze.
Finally. A little remorse?
When he lifted his eyes, they were soft and apologetic. “Max, I owe you an explanation and an apology, which I know will never be enough to fix what I did.”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Ryan. There is no excuse for what you put me through.” Then what do I want? Tears of anger stung her eyes, and she refused to let them fall. “You stole something from me, and I can never get it back. You stole my dignity, and you stole my trust.” Her voice rose despite her effort to remain calm, and the man who had been reading the newspaper in the lobby looked perched to come to her defense.
“I know I did,” Ryan said, “and I’ve regretted it every day since.”
Max didn’t hear him. She was too busy formulating her next accusation. “You made me fear relationships and turned me into someone who…” What was she doing? She didn’t come here to tell him what he’d achieved. She’d come here to prove to him—to herself—that she was fine even though he’d tried his best to tear her down.
“Max—”
“No, Ryan. I honestly don’t want to hear your excuses. They’re meaningless.”
“Max, I was sick. Okay? It’s not an excuse.”
Max pulled her shoulders back. She was ready for lies. She’d expected them. “Right, Ryan. I was there, remember? You weren’t sick. You just changed. You stopped talking to everyone, stopped talking to me. You’d look at me with this cold stare sometimes, and it was like you had been hiding your meanness, or your hatred for me, for all those months, and then you just released them.”
“Max—”
“I’m not stupid. I took the hint. I just took it one night too late,” she seethed. “And I know it had to do with agreeing to move wherever I got a job instead of where you did. I’ve finally figured it all out—”
“Max!”
His deep, loud voice startled her out of her rant.
“Max.” He lowered his voice and said, “I’m schizophrenic. They missed all the signs over that year or so. We all did. After you left, I fell apart. I spiraled out of control so badly at times that I was afraid to even go home.”
“Schizophrenic?” Max had not seen that coming. She narrowed her eyes, looking for signs of deceit.
“Think about it, Max. My behavior changed radically. When I look back now, I see it. That night I…hurt you? It wasn’t even you I was seeing or yelling at. I was sexually abused when I was little, but I’d blocked it out. I was delusional. In my mind, it wasn’t you I was hurting. It was the woman who had molested me.”
“Oh, Ryan.” All the bravado that had built up in her chest came tumbling down. “How did you figure it out?”
“One night I hurt someone else. Badly. She didn’t call the police or anything, but she could have. In fact,” he said with his eyebrows drawn together, “she probably should have. That’s when I knew something was really wrong. I went home and told my parents that I wasn’t going to leave their house because I was afraid of what I might do to someone else.”
Max had considered calling the police when Ryan had hurt her, but the shame of willingly allowing him to use that thing on her had held her back. Now she realized she might have saved the other woman from being hurt if she’d filed a police report.
Swallowing past a painful lump in her throat, she said, “You hurt someone else?”
Ryan explained that he’d hooked up with another girl a few nights after Max had left him, and they’d gone back to her apartment off campus. While they were in bed, she’d taken the dominant role, and Ryan’s memories had come rushing back. “It was like I blacked out. I didn’t remember hurting her, or calling her names, and by the time I regained control, she had locked herself in the bathroom, bruised and bleeding. She told me that if I left, she wouldn’t report me to the police. After I was back home for a week or two, my parents began to notice—or maybe accept is a better word—the changes. My father tracked down psychiatrists and psychologists. He took me to just about every doctor he could find. They all made the same diagnosis, but he didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t want to accept it either, but I also didn’t want to be the person who hurt others.”
“Should I have seen something in particular? Did I miss a major sign? Was it triggered by the thought of moving with me out of state?” Max asked. All these years I thought your anger was aimed at me specifically. What else have I misjudged?
“No. It had nothing to do with that. They don’t really know why I started recalling the memories, but I went through an inpatient program, where they assessed and treated and reassessed. You know my mom. She was nowhere near prepared to deal with this. I’ve gone through years of therapy, and it took forever for them to find the right protocol of drugs to even things out. But it’s been a few years since they figured it out and got it right.” He shrugged. “And now it’s just a part of who I am and who I will always be. Luckily, with medication, I’m not violent, and I don’t have delusions anymore. I just kind of live a regular life with all of that hanging over me.”
Max’s heart hurt for him, and for herself.
He took a drink of water and then said, “Max, I’m not telling you this to gain your sympathy. I take full responsibility for my illness and for my actions. But I am glad that you got in touch with me. I have been wanting to explain this to you and to apologize. I know you, Max, and I know you probably blamed yourself all these years. You’re so sensitive. It’s one of the things I loved about you. I’m so sorry for those weeks, that night, and for all the nights since that you’ve relived it. If I could erase it all from your mind and add your burden to mine, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
It wasn’t me. It wasn’t because he was going to move with me. The thoughts of her misplaced blame were quickly pushed aside and replaced with thoughts of Ryan, the boy she’d known before he changed and the man he was, bravely sitting there with her, exposing the most vulnerable parts of himself.
“You must have been so scared when you were going through it,” she said. As scared as I was that night.
“Petrified. Imagine not wanting to live in your own skin. That’s what it was like,” he said with a hefty dose of shame. “When I think back to how I hurt you, the awful things I said, and that night…and then the other woman, who I have since explained my situation to and apologized. I just wish it all never happened.”
She saw pain and honesty in his eyes, and beyond that, she saw something that she had never expected to see again. She saw the young man who had been her friend, and she remembered what Savannah had said about forgiveness. Maybe this was just what they both needed.
If someone had asked her yesterday if she’d ever forgive Ryan Cobain, she would have said, Never, without hesitation. As she looked at him sitting across from her, not hiding behind his illness, not shirking the responsibility of having done those hurtful acts, but laying his life out for her like an open book, she felt the anger leaving her body, floating out with the words as they rolled off her tongue. “Ryan,” she said with a shaky voice. “I forgive you.”
He looked down at his lap. A little nag in the back of Max’s mind worried that when he looked up again, it would be with the cold eyes she remembered—but he didn’t. The same warm man who had apologized only moments before was right there in front of her, looking at her with empathy, honesty, and tears in his eyes.
“I can’t tell you what that means to me,” he admitted, and then shifted his gaze around the room as he blinked away tears. “I’m sorry I’m so emotional.”
“How could you not be? This whole thing is emotional. Those years were emotional. Do you remember what we were like when we first met? Everything had us on an emotional high.” She was astonished that she’d said it, much less wanted to remember those better times, but it felt good.
“Yeah, I do.” He wrinkled his brow. “Max, I have to ask, why now? After all these years, why are you just tracking me down now? You don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my business. I’m just curious.”
Max touched her shirt. Treat. “It’s okay. I don’t mind telling you. I met someone, and, well, I’m not the same person I was when I was with you. After I left, I grew up and became self-sufficient.” But remained scared, until now. “He makes me even stronger.”
“Wait. Do you take out your own trash?” he asked with a teasing smile.
“Yes.” She grinned, remembering how she’d deemed that a boy job.
“No way. Do you ask for help in stores?”
“All the time. Gosh, I’d forgotten how shy I was. What a mess I was back then.” She covered her eyes briefly and shook her head.
“You were adorable, Max. I always knew how strong you were. I never had any doubt about your strength and courage. You were destined to accomplish everything you dreamed of. So, this guy, is he good to you?”
Max’s heart swelled even thinking about Treat. “He’s the most incredible man I have ever met, and yes, he’s very good to me.” Talking to the old Ryan was easy, comforting even. If only she’d learned years ago what she now saw so clearly. How different would her life have been? And if she hadn’t come to slay her demons…Well, she couldn’t even go there. It was too painful to think of how close she’d come to turning around and going home.
“In case you’re worried about your guy changing, what I have is pretty rare, Max. We were right at that age when it shows up. We’re past that now. I don’t think you have to worry about another guy going crazy on you out of the blue.” Ryan wasn’t making fun of her. He was being honest, like the old Ryan, thinking of her well-being.
“Thank you for that,” she said. “For all these years I thought you hurt me because you resented me. I was pretty certain of it. It’s guided my relationships, or maybe I should say my lack of relationships.”
“Max, I would have followed you anywhere. That’s what relationships are, give and take. Compromises are essential.” Ryan watched a petite redhead walking their way, and when she arrived at their table, he reached out to her. “Rachelle, this is Max.”
A warmth connected their gaze, and Max knew that Ryan cared for her. She smiled and said, “Hi.”
Rachelle put her hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Max, I’m so glad that you finally reached out to Ryan. He’s told me a lot about you. I know how much you meant to him. He’s been worried about you for a very long time.”
“I guess I’ve worried about me, too,” Max admitted.
“Rachelle and I met when I was in the inpatient facility. She was a nurse’s aide. She’s an RN now, and she works at the hospital in town.” He smiled up at Rachelle with pride.
The love in Ryan’s eyes brought Max’s mind back to Treat and the way he looked at her, touched her, and so wonderfully completed her. She’d done it. She’d faced her worst demons, and she was still breathing.
No, she wasn’t still breathing—she was breathing like never before.