Chapter 27

Max

Life is too fucking short to be scared of finding your forever. After the last eighteen hours, I knew exactly where my forever stood: in front of my oven, dressed in a tiny tank top and my baggy boxers that hung low on her hips.

“Everything okay?” Lia glanced at me from over her shoulder, smiling as I stepped into the kitchen. I’d just gotten out of the shower a few minutes ago. I was a dumb-ass for not asking her to join me. At the same time, I’d needed a few minutes to figure out how I was gonna word the question I was dying to ask her tonight. A question that not only scared me to death, but also made my heart beat harder in excitement.

We’d spent most of the day cleaning the house so that we could all focus on Chloe when she got home the next day. Now it was time to make her some cookies.

“Yeah. I was just thinking about some stuff.” I took a step into the kitchen, admiring the patch of skin exposed between the bottom of her tank and the top of my boxers.

Leaning against the counter, I watched as she yanked things out of the fridge. Milk, eggs, whipped cream… Pickles?

“What’re you doing?” Smirking, I took in the sugar and flour mess, fingering the pickle jar before I propped myself up on the only clean spot I could find on the counter.

She set down everything in her hands with a huff, then turned toward me and blew a wet piece of hair out of her eyes. “Making cookies, remember?” Her lips pursed in the cutest fucking way. “I thought you might wanna show me how it’s done.”

“Sure thing. But this all has gotta go.” I motioned toward the mess. “Don’t like working in a dirty kitchen.”

“What happened to the old adage? ‘A good cook is a messy cook.’”

“I’m unoriginal.”

She scoffed. “I’ve seen your work environment, Maxwell. It always looks like this, sometimes worse.”

“But it’s always clean before I start. That’s the thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, oh master chef. Let’s clean.” She popped her lips, drawing my gaze toward her mouth.

“I lied.”

She frowned. “About what?”

I jumped off the counter, unable to sit still. Being near her without touching was pure fucking torture now, especially since she was mine to touch.

“Needing things clean.”

“Figured as much. You’re, like, the messiest person I know, besides my brother. Dirty laundry for days, dishes soaking in the sink for even longer than that… Not to mention your room looks like someone took a sledgehammer to—”

I gripped her waist, cutting her off. “Whoa, now. No need to get personal.”

She leaned forward and kissed my lips, a quick peck that was entirely too sweet for what I really wanted. “Time’s a-wasting, Chef Martinez.” She faced the counter.

“Hmm, is it now…” Distracted by the soft pink of her tats, I lowered my mouth to her shoulder, licking around a vine, then a flower…until I spotted those words.

I swallowed, pulling back to look at them in full detail.

“What?” She froze.

“Why, Lee-Lee?” I traced the tattooed words: Let me be your little bitch.

They were ugly words for such a beautiful body, and I hated them.

Her hands trembled as she turned and pressed them against my chest. I met her stare, a warning that said Don’t even think about pushing me away.

Like she knew what I was thinking, she sighed and looked at the floor.

“It’s a reminder of that night.”

I flinched. “That’s one stupid reminder.”

Her face went red. “Whatever. This is why I didn’t want to tell you.” She shoved me, but I didn’t move. “Why I’ve never told anyone. You people keep telling me I need to talk about things, but when I do, this is what happens.”

“I’m sorry.” I rubbed a hand over my forehead, trying to backtrack. “I just… Shit, I don’t have a filter when it comes to this kind of stuff. Not when it kills me that I can’t do something to make it better for you.”

“I’m dealing with my past the best way I can. That’s going to have to be enough.”

I pressed my forehead to hers, needing to be close. “I wish I could find that fucker and rip his nuts off.”

She smiled, but I could tell it was forced. “And leave me unable to kiss you whenever I want because you’re spending life in jail?” She leaned forward even more, our noses touching. “Never.”

“That’d be a damn tragedy, huh?”

She looked up at me, eyes bright—sparkling even, like the clearest lake on the sunniest of days. Stupid analogy, but true all the same. A guy could get lost in those eyes.

“The thing about this tattoo is that you only see one part. The rest is hidden.”

“Where?” I looked over the rest of her shoulders, pulling down the straps of her tank, but all I could see were pink flowers and black vines.

“Here.” She turned around and parted the back of her hair. “I had it done two months after that night. A girl I’d gone to high school with was dating this Russian dude who did tattoos. One Saturday, we all got stupid drunk, and he was there with his gun and ink.” She shrugged. “Without anyone knowing, I went into her apartment bathroom and borrowed her boyfriend’s razor and shaved the underside layer of my hair clean off.”

“Damn, Lia…” At that point in time, I was hot in the desert, fighting off insurgents, learning about life and loss, thinking about a girl I’d left in the hospital with her parents a few nights before we left the States.

Had I known she was suffering… Had I known the truth…

I dug my nails into my palms. None of us knew what was going on at home, and even if Collin had, there was no way he would’ve told me. I barely knew his sister.

“I wanted something tough, ya know? Badass me, telling that asshole I wasn’t going to be taken down.” She tapped her nails against the counter she was braced against. “So for five months, the back of my head was shaved underneath, while I dyed the rest of my hair ink black. I didn’t even look at the stupid thing until my mom happened to see me brushing my hair one day in my room. She cried for a really long time…” Lia rubbed her upper arms. “After she went to bed, I finally looked at it, then cried just as hard as she had, if not worse.”

I pulled her hair apart to search the scalp. She let me, but the way her body trembled against mine was proof that it made her nervous. Normally, I wouldn’t push her to do something that bothered her this much, but I had to see for myself what the rest of those words said.

The bottom part below her hairline said Let me be your little bitch.

The top part, which I read out loud, said, “I won’t.” For a good, long minute I stared, trying to make sense of the gibberish: I won’t let me be your little bitch.

When the silence stretched too long, Lia laughed nervously. “Yeah…so my tattoo artist wasn’t exactly fluent in English yet. And like I said, we were all a little drunk, so…” I let the hair fall away, angry she’d let someone so fucking unprofessional touch her skin like this, angry that I hadn’t been there to save her—though I was starting to think she wouldn’t have needed me even if I was there.

She worked through her issues, mostly on her own. She had coping mechanisms ingrained in her life to help. Yeah, she’d made some mistakes—dropping out of college, getting a messed-up tat, working in a bar that used to have hookers, punching a guy, getting arrested… But I also knew that everything she did had a purpose. And I was damn proud of her and what she’d become.

I turned her around to face me, finding her lip pulled between her teeth. “It was supposed to say, ‘I won’t ever be your little bitch.’”

One side of my mouth curled up into a proud grin. “My girl’s a badass.”

Her face was pink. “I try.”

My smile fell as I whispered, “Ever think about getting it colored over to match the rest of your ink?” I traced my hand along her skin, the strap of her tank falling off her shoulder. Goose bumps scaled her neckline, and she shivered.

“Someday, maybe.” She blinked. Anger, resentment, hatred, and revenge all meshed with acceptance and fear in those baby blues. It was an emotionally messed-up sight that worked on Lia, making her hard and soft at the same time.

“Now.” She blew out a shaky breath and looked back at the counter. “Weren’t we about to bake something?” One after the other, she plucked ingredients out of the cupboards. Stuff we didn’t even need, like bread dough in a box, noodles, and Rice Krispies.

“Yeah, don’t think we need all that.” I nudged her out of the way with my hip.

“Hey, watch it.” She smiled, only to poke me in the stomach. The air between us was a hell of a lot lighter than it had been in hours. It was just her and me… No worrying about our past, no worrying about our future. The perfect example of day by day. Just her and me, together.

“You’re ticklish, aren’t you, Maxwell?”

I froze, my hands lingering over the beater. “No, I’m not.” I so fucking was. Hated being tickled too.

I flashed her a warning, baring my teeth. Somewhere along the way, she’d propped herself up on the counter liked I’d done. We were eye to eye.

“Maxwell Martinez, do you not like to be tickled?” She jabbed a spoon at me, and I plucked it out of her hands.

“No.”

She jumped off the counter. “So…” From behind me, she pressed her soft tits against my back, only to sneak her hands under the bottom of my shirt to touch my stomach. “If I did this”—she trailed her nails down the front, and I shuddered under her touch—“then it wouldn’t bother you?”

I jerked my hips back as she did it again, my breathing unsteady. “Nope.” I turned around and grabbed her by the waist, only to slide my tongue across her neck.

“Eww, stop.” She shoved me away with a giggle.

I smacked her ass, then pointed to the counter. “Now get your cute butt back on the counter and watch your man work.”

She laughed but did as I asked. “You suck.”

I poured lemon cake mix in with the eggs and whipped cream I’d put in the bowl. “Cooking is an art form. If I get distracted, I’ll fuck up.”

For a while after that, she got quiet and just watched me. The two-person project had soon turned into a one-person job. I liked teaching her how it was done though. And pretending to speak in a French accent put a smile on her lips that I couldn’t stop staring at. For Lia, I’d always act like a dumb-ass if it meant I could see her sweet grin.

Once the cookies were on the cookie sheet, ready to be put in the oven, I turned to look at the mess, finding her eyes on mine yet again. Something shifted inside me at her look, even more than before.

I needed to kiss her. Again.

I took my time moving closer, my hands drifting up her bare thighs. She shivered but made no move to push me away. Maybe she needed this too. When I moved between her knees, I took a deep breath, thanking God for the small things—like Lia’s patience, my second chance, and a few more silent hours alone.

“What do you see when you look at me, Lia?” I tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet my stare. “Tell me.”

“Let’s see…” She tapped a finger against her lips. “I see someone who’s smart and sweet, with a great ass.”

I squeezed her thighs, urging for more. “What else?”

Her smile fell a little, but the happiness in her eyes didn’t budge. It was my goal to keep it there. “I see someone who’d do anything for the people he loves.”

I lifted my hand, using my thumb to wipe a bit of flour from her cheek. “That it?”

Goose bumps spread across her bare arms, and I pressed my hands up higher.

“I see a friend, and an occasional smart-ass who can make me laugh.”

Eyes shut, I lowered my forehead to hers. “You see all that in me?”

“I see more.”

I pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “I see those things in you too.” And then some.

I saw her as my best friend, dressed in white, with a veil on her head and flowers in her hands. I saw her swollen and round with my son or daughter, though I knew she wouldn’t be ready for either of those things for a long while. Still, the vision was there in my mind, and I knew without any doubt that I’d wait forever to make it happen if I had to.

She shook her head. “Want to know what else I see?”

“Tell me.”

“I see the only man I’ve ever loved.”

I lifted one hand and stroked the spot by her ear. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Tears were in her eyes, but this time I knew they weren’t from fear or pain or anger. They were for me. They were happy.

“You gave me hope when I thought it was lost.”

“You know, I’ve probably loved you since the day I came home from my last tour. Since I saw your blue eyes light up with recognition when you saw me in my gear at the airport that day.”

“I saw you first.” She grinned so widely that my heart skipped. “Even before I saw my brother. I felt like crap about it because he’s blood, and you were like this…this fascinating memory I thought I’d conjured up. But then you weren’t.”

I held my breath as she continued in a rush, “You were coming down that long hallway, a backpack slung over your shoulder. Your hair was buzzed, and your face was all tan and scruffy.” She stared over my shoulder, her eyes half-glazed with the memory. “You looked so handsome.”

I laughed. “Hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. Not sure how I looked handsome.”

“You smiled when you saw my dad and my mom.”

“I smiled when I saw you too.”

Her eyes continued that sparkle thing they did, lighting up with every word I said. “Yeah, but then you took one look at Chloe as Collin tugged her into his arms, and it’s as though everything in life made sense to you again. You looked so complete for someone who’d just gotten back from war.”

That day, I couldn’t keep my eyes off Lia either. She’d looked so different from what I remembered. Stronger, angrier, feistier. There were bits of that pink mixed in with her black hair. But her eyes were the same. They were so big and wide and blue, and filled with love for her parents and her brother and Chloe too. I remember thinking to myself that I wanted someone to look at me the way she looked at her family—like I was all that mattered.

“If it hadn’t been for that tiny baby wrapped in your mama’s arms, Colly, Gav, and I probably wouldn’t have made it through those first few months back home.”

Her head tipped to the side. “Did you see a lot of death, Max?”

I blew out a breath, nodding. Nobody ever asked me that, probably because they didn’t want to know. Not even my mama. It’s not something you wanna talk about, but I’d tell Lia everything and anything she needed and wanted to know, just to keep her talking and looking at me like she was.

“More than anyone should’ve seen.” And that was an understatement.

“I’m sorry you went through that.” She stroked my cheek, trying to push my ugly memories away.

“I’m never gonna regret serving my country.”

“No, I don’t think you’re the type that would regret much of anything.”

She was wrong. “I regret hurting you.”

“Hurting me?” She wasn’t mad but curious. I could see it in the tilt of her head.

“Yeah, like when I blew you off over the winter. When I cussed at you for getting arrested. I regret that night I danced with McKenna at the bar too.”

She rolled her eyes.

I grinned. “Say, speaking of that, how did McKenna know about us?”

Lia brushed her hands over my chest, and I tucked my fingers under the bottom of her shirt, just above her ass. “Apparently, Addie had to tell someone, and it happened to be McKenna.” She ran her fingers up the side of my neck. “Kenna apologized; you know that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Guess there’s something to her besides a nice pair of legs, then.”

“You’re serious?” She narrowed her eyes.

“Sure. Legs and tits were always my thing.” I reached forward and pinched her ass. “But I’m a reformed man now, baby.”

“Pig.” She slugged my shoulder, but her eyes glowed regardless. “But you know…Gavin has really big feet. And with really big feet it usually means the guy has a really big—”

With my hand full of flour and sugar, I covered her mouth with the powder. Her eyes widened. I was a hypocrite, yeah, but Gavin’s dick was not gonna be discussed right now. Or ever. “Touché, Lee-Lee. Touché.”

Easing my hand away, I took a step back, my palm tingling from touching her lips, even with all the mess in between.

Eyes wide in shock, she wiped at her powdery mouth before saying, “I can’t believe you just did that.”

I shrugged and grinned, guilty as charged.

She growled under her breath, a finger pointed my way as she said, “You’re done for, Soldier Boy.”