I stare at the ceiling and attempt to will my exhausted body to sleep. That Max knows my secret is something I couldn’t have imagined happening. In all the months that I teased and flirted with him, I never gave serious thought to what would occur if we ever had sex. Maybe I secretly believed I could hide it all from him in the dark of the night.

He’s been incredibly supportive and nonjudgmental since he walked in on me bleeding in his bathroom earlier. I knew he had questions; I could see them in his eyes. But to give him credit, he had yet to make me feel like the freak I obviously am. He has to be thinking in the back of his mind that he really dodged a bullet by not getting involved with someone as messed up as me. No doubt, his doctor friend would have pointed that out to him. Matt Foster had been polite and professional, but there was a weariness to him that was impossible to miss. Like Max, Matt was also a very handsome man. I didn’t feel the attraction to him, though, that I do to his friend. Of course, the fact that I was sitting before him looking like a train wreck while he stitched up my leg might have had something to do with it. It’s a little hard to admire someone knowing they must think you’re a complete nut job.

My hands twist in the cotton material of Max’s shirt as thoughts of my father fill my head. What am I going to do? I’m homeless. I have no apartment, nor can I afford a hotel. I can’t even afford the necessities. If not for Max, I would still be on the street.

I burrow more deeply under the covers as shivers begin wracking my body. Dammit, not again! I know another panic attack is just around the corner, and I have no way of coping with it. Then I remember the bag that I had used earlier to breathe in. I scramble from the bed and flip the lamp on. A soft glow fills the room as I look around. It’s not here. Shit, Max must have picked it up. I pace the floor, feeling my chest grow tighter.

Before I am even conscious of moving, I’m walking down the hallway until I reach an open door. I stand just inside until my eyes become accustomed to the inky blackness. I can make out a shape on the bed as I creep toward it. I stand there silently, wringing my hands. I desperately need someone to hold me tonight, but I’m incapable of asking. I turn away, not willing to let him see that I’m falling apart yet again.

I’ve barely made it a few steps when he rears up in the bed, looking around wildly. I may not have been able to fall asleep, but it appears he didn’t suffer from the same problem. I see him jerk as he notices me standing there. His arm reaches toward the lamp but freezes as I say quickly, “Please. Don’t! I’ll go, just don’t turn that on.” I have no idea why, but I don’t want him to see me right now. Some part of me hopes that his mind will conjure up the image that I normally present—not this pathetic women nearly hyperventilating before him. Then as if things couldn’t get any more awkward, I blurt out, “Can I sleep with you?” Oh my God, why did I say that? I’m so embarrassed; I don’t wait for his reply.

I’m almost back to my room when he grabs my elbow, halting me in my tracks. “Why are you running?” he asks, sounding adorably confused.

“I—shouldn’t have put you on the spot. I couldn’t sleep and ... I didn’t know what else to do.”

He is silent for a moment before using the hand he still has on my elbow to propel me back to his bedroom and through the door. Despite my earlier plea, he turns the lamp on before turning the comforter on his bed back and motioning me in. As my pride is already in tatters, I waste no time accepting what he’s offering. I crawl across the soft mattress until I reach the other side. When I’ve stopped moving, he gets in as well and turns the light off.

I begin to think I’ve made a big mistake as I lie rigidly with only inches separating us. I have the closeness I was craving, but it’s still not what I need. I want to feel his arms around me, but there is no way I can ask anything more of him. Truthfully, we’re not even friends in the real world, so this is awkward. My skin feels tight. My chest even tighter. Come on, Rose. Breathe.

I hear him sigh before he asks, “How can I help you? I can sense your fear from here, sweetheart, and I want nothing more than to hold you until you feel safe enough to sleep.” I take a deep breath and wiggle my way back to his side. Why bother to worry about rejection at this point? While it might not be pleasant, it could in no way compare to him finding me in the bathroom with a knife on the floor beside me.

He lifts his arm as I reach him and I duck under it, laying my head on his chest. There is no hair there, and I wonder fleetingly if he shaves or waxes. His muscles flex as he begins rubbing my back, lulling me into an almost trance-like state. Then he shocks me further by humming. I don’t recognize the tune, but his husky, masculine voice fills the silence, and I find I’m incapable of thinking of anything else. I want to remain awake, just to hear him, but the pull to sleep is too strong. It’s been months since I’ve slept beside a man. Don’t think of that douche now, Rose. You don’t need that additional pain and embarrassment. So warm. So comfortable in Max’s arms. This may be the only night he allows this. I drift away, secure in the protective circle of his embrace. Tomorrow, I’ll be alone again, but this is what I’ll miss the most.

---

I wake disoriented as something brushes against me. Even though it’s been a long time, I still remember the unmistakable feel of a woman in my arms. Sunlight streams through the partially closed blinds as I take a moment to get my bearings. The previous night comes flooding back, and I glance down to see a cascade of red hair sprayed across my chest. After months of avoidance and denial, Rose Madden is in my arms—although certainly not in the way I’ve fantasized about. Darkness exists inside her that I never would have guessed.

Possibly, her obsession with firearms and revenge upon her ex-boyfriend should have clued me in, but both were presented in such a lighthearted manner that I hadn’t a clue. Matt says that she harms herself by cutting to have some sense of control over her life, which surprises me. If there is one woman who I would have said was in command of the world around her, it’s Rose. I’ll admit that knowing I’ve read her completely wrong is unsettling. As a lawyer, I literally make a living being able to figure out what makes someone tick. Now, I find that there is yet another facet to her I never expected. She’s a beautiful, intriguing, and troubled puzzle I need to solve, if for no other reason than to help her. Now that I know what she’s been doing, I can’t turn my back. I’d never forgive myself if something happened and I wasn’t there. Does Lia know? I wonder, thinking if she’d confided in anyone, it would be her friend.

She shifts again, and I try not to think about the last woman who shared my bed. It’s been so long since I’ve let anyone past the wall I’ve built around me. I have sex when the need is there, but I don’t have relationships. Luc and I were actually a lot alike before he met Lia. I knew he was a goner even before he did. She was the one he couldn’t walk away from. I know because I’ve had that before, and it’s damn hard to deal with when it’s jerked away. Luc was strong enough to take a leap of faith—but I am not. I will be her friend and help her in any way that I can—but that’s all I have to give her.

When a snore loud enough to do a man proud fills the room, I can’t hold my laughter back. It’s the comic relief I desperately need. She does it again, and I marvel that such a tiny thing can make such a loud noise. Dear God, this woman may need sinus surgery along with everything else.

Apparently, my shaking body is enough to disturb her, and she jerks awake with an adorable snort. I watch her with a grin on my face while her eyes scan the room in confusion and then come to rest on me. “Wh—what?” Before I can fill her in, I see it all coming back to her. Her look of puzzlement gives way to embarrassment as her face turns a deep shade of red. “Crap, I’d really hoped it was just a dream,” she mumbles as she drops her head.

“That’s not exactly what a man likes to hear when he wakes up in bed with a woman,” I tease, trying to put her at ease.

Never one to back down from a joke, she fires right back, “I seriously doubt a man would take a woman he’d found carving herself like a Jack-o-Lantern in his bathroom to bed at the end of the evening unless he was into some strange shit.”

I’m strangely relieved she is able to make light of the previous night. I’d been afraid that things between us would be at the very least strained in the light of day. “I’m a lawyer, sweetheart. I’ve seen a lot and heard even more. Not much can shock me at this point. Were you working on the eyes or the mouth last night when I walked in?”

A giggle escapes her as she shifts from my chest and falls onto her back. Her hands come up and cover her face as she continues to laugh. “You’re sick, Mr. Decker. Has anyone ever told you that? You shouldn’t make fun of the fucked up.”

I nod my head in agreement. “I’ve been told that a few times, but my mother never got around to teaching me manners.” My stomach growls as I finish my sentence. I turn to study her, thinking she looks more gorgeous than any woman has a right to after an evening of hell. “I’m starving. How about I lock up all of my knives and whip us up something to eat?”

She looks over to see me smirking and raises her delicate finger in the air to flip me off. “Go fix me something to eat before I smother you with this pillow,” she threatens as she pats the fluffy mound next to her.

“Your wish is my command.” I get to my feet and wink before walking toward the kitchen. I stop off at the bathroom in the hall and take care of business before washing my face and hands. A quick look in the mirror shows the usual morning stubble of hair on my jawline, but I don’t usually worry about that on the weekends. My profession calls for me to wear suits more often than not, so I value what little time I can relax and be casual.

As I gather up the ingredients to make eggs and bacon, I marvel at how relaxed I feel. I hadn’t expected that this morning. I figured, at best, things would be tense and uncomfortable while we both tried to ignore the elephant in the room. I certainly never imagined I’d be making jokes about sharp objects. I wasn’t sure when I began with the teasing if it was the best way to go and part of me was afraid she would either start crying or leave in a pissed-off rage. I was so fucking relieved to hear that giggle. Such beautiful music to my ears. If I’m to help her at all, I think we need to establish that kind of ease between us. I want her to feel as if she can talk to me about anything without things getting too intense for her to handle. As Matt said, if she thinks I’m judging her, then she’ll shut me out. And I’m not sure she has anywhere else to turn.

I am plating our meal when she comes into the kitchen. Her hair is a jumble of waves around her shoulders, and she’s still wearing my shirt—a fact my cock notices almost immediately. I keep my front turned toward the stove as I try to talk the evil bastard back into a relaxed state. My body has been hyper aware of Rose from the moment we met. The things I’ve imagined doing to her would either shock or thrill her—possibly both. At this moment, I’m grateful for my loose lounge pants as they give some camouflage to my wayward dick.

I set her food before her, and she gives me a shy smile. “Thanks. This looks great.”

“I’m good at everything I do, sweetheart,” I joke before thinking better of it. If I plan to keep this just friendship, it would probably be better to stop throwing out the sexual innuendos. That seems impossible around her, though. I blurt them out without thought.

“Prove it,” she tosses right back, and despite my resolve, I grin approvingly. As usual, I’m powerless to resist this woman when she turns on the charm. It’s hard for me to reconcile the woman of this morning with the one of only hours before. If Matt is correct, and she’s been cutting for years, then she has probably become very good at hiding it from the world behind her normal bubbly demeanor.

“I wouldn’t want to be the cause of you popping your stitches. Matt would kick both of our asses if that happened,” I add lightly as I lift a slice of bacon to my mouth.

We eat in silence for a while before she suddenly asks, “So what’s his story—Matt’s? How did you first meet?”

I feel a pang of what feels almost like jealousy at her interest in Matt as well as a trickle of unease at the question. Matt and I have a history together and to tell her how we met would be to reveal more than I intend to. Therefore, I keep my answer vague as I say, “We’ve moved in similar circles.” Then I decide to change the subject. “So it looks as if we need to do some shopping today. When I got up, I washed the outfit you were wearing last night, so as soon as it’s dry, we can head out. Unless you plan to try to work things out with your father today?”

A shudder runs through her as she shakes her head. “No, I don’t want anything to do with him after what he did to me. If I go crawling back now, then he’s got me. I’ll have to cave to all of his demands, and I might as well be signing my life over at that point because I’ll never get back out again.” Then she drops her head in her hands and I hear a sniffle. “But I have no idea what I’m going to do. I hardly have any money, no clothing, or other necessities. Lia won’t be back ’til tomorrow evening, and I’m not calling and worrying her.”

I put a hand on her arm, gently pulling it away from her face. She looks so despondent; it breaks my heart. I should have at least let her finish breakfast before forcing her to talk. “Honey, you don’t need to worry about any of that. You’ll stay with me until you have everything figured out. For however long you need to. We’ll get you some clothing today and whatever else you need.” She opens her mouth as if to protest, but I hold a hand up and stop her. “I know that things have been complicated between us for lack of a better word and a big part of that is my fault. At the very least, we are friends, and I hope that you can forgive me for disappearing from your life. We both, it seems, have things going on that we’re dealing with, and I deeply regret that I wasn’t there when maybe you needed someone.”

“Lia doesn’t know anything about the cutting,” she blurts out unexpectedly. “I’m asking you to please not tell her.”

I’m not really surprised at her revelation. Matt had indicated last night that Rose likely hadn’t told anyone her secret. “I would never share anything that you didn’t want me to. You don’t even need to ask. You two are so close, though, so out of curiosity, why haven’t you talked to her? Both she and Lucian have had their shares of issues, so you know she’s the last person who would judge you.”

She shakes my hand off and gets to her feet. I watch as she paces the kitchen for a few moments before looking at me. “I don’t want her to know how weak I am. You know what she’s been through. My God, she was abused, and then slept in a car after she left home. She found a way to put herself through college and graduate with honors. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever known. I may tease her, but truthfully, I’m in awe of her. Her opinion is so important. I couldn’t bear it if she thought less of me. Right now, I’m just not ready to take that risk.”

I would like to argue with her, but I don’t want to drive a wedge between us. Right now, regardless of how either of us feels about it, I’m all she has in the way of support. I know Lia would do anything for her friend, but it’s up to Rose as to how much she wants her to know. “It’s your decision,” I begin, “and I’ll leave it at that. But for today, let’s get dressed and beat the crowds to the mall. We should be able to find enough to get you by there, right?”

I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but I think I see her wince before she nods. “That’s fine. And I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my first paycheck.”

I roll my eyes at her. “I’m not worried about that. Let me get your clothes.” She’s standing in the hallway waiting as I return with her garments from the dryer. “The pants aren’t in the best shape, but hopefully, they’ll get you by until we can replace them.”

She takes them from my hands and buries her face in their warmth, reminding me of a child. There are so many facets to this woman. I wonder if I’ll ever see them all. I’m entranced by her, which is not only dangerous, it’s damn near irrational. The last thing she needs is a man with issues of his own. She needs stability, and I can only offer her that in the financial form. Emotionally, I’m as fucked up as she is. She turns toward the guest room, then stops and looks at me over her shoulder. “Thanks, Max. I don’t know where I’d be today without you rescuing me last night.” Without waiting for my reply, she shuts the door softly behind her. I have to fight the urge to follow her. She seems fine, but it will be a while before I forget the sight that greeted me when I stepped into that bathroom and saw the blood. I may have been able to joke about it this morning, but it’s something that will haunt me for years to come.

---

I deliberately keep my thoughts blank as I shower and then dry my hair. I dress in my clothing from the previous night—and then I see them. There are holes in my slacks. Both knees were damaged when I fell. I can’t go out like this. What if someone sees me? I’m a disgrace—a complete mess. I’m frozen in place, on the verge of freaking out, when I hear a voice nearby. “Ready to go, sweetheart?” He moves over to stand in my line of vision as if knowing I need him. “You look beautiful and you’ll be the envy of every teenage girl at the mall with those ripped up pants. Very retro, Ms. Madden.”

I stare at him, slowly coming out of the trace I’d fallen into. I glance down at my clothing, before looking at him once again. He’s grinning as if we share some kind of inside joke. At that moment, I understand that he knows. On some level, he gets how hard it is for me to leave the house looking anything less than perfect. It’s been drummed into me my whole life. My only purpose as far as my parents were concerned was to look and act the part of a Madden. I’m like some brainwashed cult member who is trying to learn to think for herself. I clear my throat before saying, “Yes, well, haters gonna hate. Bring your wallet, Mr. Decker. I think I’m going to inflict some serious damage on it.”

He gives me a lazy grin that does crazy things to my body. “I have you covered, babe.” He waves an arm toward the doorway, adding, “After you, honey.” I wonder if he has any idea what the endearments that he uses do to me? Even though I know he means nothing by them, I still feel special; like maybe, in some small way, I do matter. Right now, I need to pretend he feels more than pity for me.