WHEN I SAW Angel approaching us, I hightailed it out of there as fast as I could. I didn’t need his shit. I respected the hell out of him but when it came to Max, it was none of his fucking business.
I would make her mine again. No matter what our friends said. I would make them see we belonged together. That I needed her. That she was the only reason I woke up from the damn coma in the first place.
My walk turned into a jog until I was running at full speed. My lungs ached. My muscles jumped and twitched, protesting each movement but that only made me run faster and harder. If I could run myself into the ground, I would. I needed to get away. To run back in time where Max and I weren’t fighting. I craved the day I could make her smile again. To see her look away shyly as I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. And when she chewed her bottom lip, I would kiss her and take her breath like it belonged to me. I would fall at her feet, kissing the very ground she walked on before I ever let her go again.
Running faster, I poured every emotion into the pavement beneath my feet. It took months, but I finally admitted to myself that I had made a mistake. Even in the beginning, I never showed any interest I wanted a relationship with Max. That was one of the only things I could remember. I was confused, not being able to remember what was fact or fantasy. But I knew I had been scared. No one wanted me as a child, how could I fathom that a woman wanted me as a man? But it had been too late. How could we ever come back from it?
After a couple miles into my run, I slowed down to a full stop, breathing through the pain piercing my lungs. Fuck me, it felt good. So damn good to feel something other than this confusion. Not remembering everything was driving me insane.
I needed to see Dr. Santos.
Placing my hands on my knees, I bent over at the middle, taking deep breaths.
“You can’t run away from your problems.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I took another breath before looking back at Coby standing behind me. I never heard him approach. The fucker was like a damn ninja.
“Maybe not but I’m determined to try,” I muttered.
“She’ll come around,” was all he said.
I laughed. “I can’t talk to her if I have Angel breathing down my neck. He’s determined to keep us apart.”
“That’s not true and you know it.” Coby took a step toward me. “He doesn’t want you to hurt her again. You have to understand where he’s coming from.”
“How the hell can I, Coby?” I snapped, my fists clenching at my sides. “Max and I can’t talk without fighting.”
“And that’s how some people get their points across but when you don’t listen to what she has to say, that’s why he steps in.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to listen to her when she doesn’t tell me shit?”
“Patience.” Coby rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t like talking about what happened but I’m telling you this because clearly you aren’t listening to me.”
I winced. “Coby.”
“No.” He raised a hand, stopping me. “I love Brogan. She loves me. But sometimes talking doesn’t do shit.”
“What are you saying?” I asked, frowning.
“Sex, Dale. That’s what I’m saying.”
“You want me to fuck Max in order to get her to talk to me? Somehow, I don’t think that would go over well.” As much as I wanted to feel her body wrapped around mine, I wouldn’t fuck her until she hinted first.
“I’m not saying …” Coby huffed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “What I’m trying to explain is that sex can be a way of communication.”
I thought about that a moment.
“Sex can also be when you are most vulnerable,” Coby continued. “And people who live the BDSM lifestyle need to communicate with each other. The Dom needs to know what his submissive likes. The sub needs to let their Dom know if they aren’t comfortable in the situation and so on. They give and take. But sometimes, words aren’t enough.”
“Why, Coby, are you trying to tell me you’re into bondage and sadism?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Coby glanced my way. “That’s for Brogan to know only.”
“Touché.”
“I’m just trying to tell you that sometimes words aren’t always needed when speaking with your partner. Learn to listen to Max without hearing her voice.”
I did know her. Didn’t I?
But maybe Coby had a point. Although I didn’t like holding back. This new-found urge to demand for her to listen to me almost pushed me over the edge. Every time we were near each other, I couldn’t help but want to reach out and touch her. My body stirred, my cock growing at the mere thought of getting back inside her sweet body.
Fuck.
Clearing my throat, I started jogging in place and shook out my arms.
Coby chuckled. “Work it out, man. Before you lose your shit. You don’t need to scare her away.”
I didn’t respond but something told me there was more to Max then she was letting on.
***
(Max)
Seven days. Seven. Damn. Days.
Dale had actually left me alone. He came to the club, helped the guys with fixing up the place and doing the renovations instructed by Brogan, but other than that, nothing. Nada. Zilch. I was losing my ever-loving mind. I needed his touch. His mouth on mine again. I needed to feel him growing beneath me as I took us both over that edge of powerful bliss.
I had no idea why Dale was being a gentleman. No. Not a gentleman. He outright ignored me.
Stabbing the paintbrush into the glob of purple paint, I slammed it against the canvas. The rough impact caused a little more paint to touch the canvas than I would have liked but it was an easy fix. Too bad my life didn’t work the same way.
“Stupid men. Stupid, stupid men,” I grumbled, hitting the canvas with the brush after each word.
“Are you going to call this painting the angry one?” Josee teased from behind me.
I swore under my breath, repeated my movements and continued stabbing the canvas.
She laughed. “Someone’s sexually frustrated.”
“You have no fucking idea,” I muttered, my cheeks heating at my confession. It annoyed me how shy I was. I had only become sexually experienced because of Dale but talking about it was still embarrassing.
“Yeah.” Josee pulled a stool up beside me. “I do.”
I paused, glancing at her. “Really?”
She shrugged. “I’m not searching for it or anything but my hands can only do so much.”
I laughed. “They’re not cutting it anymore?”
“God no.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “I don’t want a relationship. But I wouldn’t mind being used for a night.”
“By Lian and Henley?” I waggled my eyebrows.
She threw her head back, a full belly laugh leaving her mouth. “I would cut off my left arm for that.”
I couldn’t handle one guy, let alone two. I also didn’t think Dale could share. Not like he and I were together or anything. My heart picked up speed. I shouldn’t worry about what he thought. He clearly didn’t worry about my feelings in the beginning. My chest tightened to the point a vice-like grip squeezed my lungs. Deep breaths, Max. Deep breaths.
“Max.” Josee touched my arm, her brows furrowing in the center. “Talk to me.”
Talk. Everyone wanted to talk. Well, I just wanted sex. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to say a damn thing. I wanted Dale to stop this hesitation of his and just fuck me already. “I’m fine,” I whispered, breathing through the impending panic attack.
“What’s going on?” she asked, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Dale’s been weird this week.”
“Weird? Isn’t he always?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, he hasn’t paid any attention to me for the past week. He won’t talk to me. As hard as it is for me to talk to him, I was getting used to our fights.” I shrugged. “I know it doesn’t make sense but it’s the only time I feel connected to him. Which that doesn’t make sense either since I’m …”
“What?”
“I’m supposed to hate him.”
“Oh, Max.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Listen, I’m not the person to be giving relationship advice and I know you’re hurting. But have you thought that maybe he wants something more?”
“After all of this time?” I paused. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know but sometimes it can take a tragic accident for someone to realize the mistakes they made.”
I thought a moment. “He hurt me.”
“I know, honey.” She smiled softly. “I really do. I’m sure you’ve been told this a thousand times already” —she rolled her eyes— “but be patient.”
I bit back a scoff. If she only knew how patient I had really been. “I don’t want to be patient anymore.”
“I know.” She patted my hand. “I should go and let you get back to abusing that canvas.” She winked.
I smiled, zoning in on the painting before me.
She rose from the stool, gave my shoulder a light squeeze, and left the room but not before I heard her clear her throat. “Hey, Dale.”
My heart jumped.
“You know who I am?”
“Oh, yes,” she mumbled something more to him that I couldn’t hear.
He laughed. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too,” came his smooth reply.
I smiled to myself, knowing she had threatened him in some way. I had made a promise with myself the next time I saw him, I would demand answers. Even though I had never given him them in return, I would command he give me something more.
Jo said her goodbyes as Dale walked into the room.
“Can we talk?” he asked, hovering near the door.
And the thought of demanding answers from him went out the window as I stared at him. I sighed, turning back around on the stool and continued painting. “Sure.” I no longer had the strength to fight. If he didn’t want anything to do with having a relationship with me, I wouldn’t push him. I couldn’t. For my own sanity.
“You’re working on something new?” Dale asked, sitting on the stool beside me.
“Yeah,” I answered, stroking the brush down the canvas. “I’ve been inspired.” My cheeks heated remembering exactly how that inspiration came to be. “I have a showing coming up in a few months. Some famous artists are going to be there and Josee wants the best from me.”
“I’ll be there,” he answered automatically.
I glanced at him. “Really?”
“Yes, kitten. Anything I can do to support you, I will.” He smiled.
Who was this guy? Dale had always been sweet but something had changed since his coma.
“Why are you acting this way?” I asked, realizing as soon as the question left my mouth that it was probably more confusing then I intended.
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
I shook my head, a shaky laugh escaping my lips. “Why have you ignored me for the past week?”
He searched my face, the muscle behind his jaw twitching. “I would never ignore you.”
I scoffed. “Could have fooled me, Dale. You haven’t talked to me. You acknowledge me in passing but nothing more.”
“I’m trying to be patient,” he confessed.
“Patient?” It was my turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, Max. I won’t push you.” His gaze fell to my mouth. “But I can only hold back for so long before …”
“Before what?” I asked, heat crawling up my back.
His eyes met mine. “Before I fuck you.”
My breath hitched at the idea of having his powerful waist between my legs again. To feel him full and throbbing deep inside of me was something I had been yearning for since he woke up. “You can’t hurt me again,” I whispered.
“I won’t hurt you.”
“No, I’m saying you can’t hurt me again because I won’t let you.”
“Max.” He reached for my hand.
I couldn’t. I didn’t need him to touch me only for him to destroy me in the process. I rose to my feet. “I can’t.”
“Baby,” he pleaded, linking his fingers in mine. “I’m … I’m sorry.”
My breath caught in my throat. I stared down at him. It felt wrong but right at the same time. At this point, the power of control was being placed in my hands.
Dale brushed his fingers over my palm. He kissed my knuckles, letting his lips linger.
“Dale,” I whispered, watching him.
His mouth moved to my wrist. His lips parted as he gave the soft skin there a gentle nip.
A surge of heat rushed through me. I couldn’t do this but I wanted to. The argument in my head was settled.
I needed him.
Pulling my hand from his, I stepped between his legs and brushed my fingers down his cheek.
He only stared up at me, his gaze warming beneath my touch.
I realized then that he wasn’t the man I had fallen in love with in the beginning. No. This man was shattered, broken by the mere gunshot that had almost taken his life.
I pushed my fingers through his dark blond hair, grazing them over the wound at the side of his head. He had been lucky. So damn lucky he came out alive with only a couple memories gone. Those could be replaced but he couldn’t.
“I know I can’t make up for what I’ve done,” he finally said, breaking the intensity of the silence surrounding us. “I only wish I could remember so I can right the wrongs I’ve caused you. I will never forgive myself. I need you. Not to forgive me. I can wait for that for whenever you are ready.” He cupped the backs of my bare legs, his thumbs brushing back and forth. His touch was soothing. His caress contradicted what was going on in him. His body was stiff, ridged, while his hands were soft. He was holding back.
“I need to hate you, but I can’t.” My fingers grazed down the length of his jaw. “I want to hate you. I’ve tried.” My throat closed up, words lost on the tip of my tongue.
His eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming out in a whoosh. “I know. I don’t expect anything less from you.”
“Why?” I pulled from his grip when it only tightened around me. “You didn’t want anything to do with me after I told you how I felt and that I was pregnant. Did the accident make you change your mind? Are you feeling guilty?”
“Of course I’m feeling fucking guilty, kitten.” His body tensed. “I’m trying to remember. The doctor said I might never remember or that I can hit my head and everything will come rushing back. Who the fuck knows? But what I do know is even if you and I never end up together, I need to make up for what I’ve done.”
My eyes burned at the desperation in his voice, the pleading behind his words that I would listen. But, how could I? My grandmother raised me to forgive but there was no way I could forget what he had done to me …
And our baby.