His blue eyes darkened as he looked over my shoulder into the distance. “I understand that, you know? Feeling responsible for someone else and failing miserably,” he said with so much pain in his voice that I felt it in my bones.
He continued to hold my hand tight and secure in his, his thumb drawing circles on my skin. I didn’t say anything, I knew instinctively that Maxx needed to share something with me, but he needed to do it at his own pace.
The wind blew around us, chilling me, but I didn’t move away from him. “My brother expects a lot of me. Landon, you met him,” he said, looking down at me, his lips quirking into a tiny smile.
I smiled back. “He seemed like a nice kid,” I offered.
“He is. He’s a great kid. Better than me, that’s for sure,” Maxx said tiredly. I didn’t respond to that. What could I say? That’s not true, you’re a great guy! Because that would have been a lie. I didn’t know whether Maxx deserved that kind of commendation or not.
“He looks up to me. He expects me to be this great and powerful person. To make our lives something better. I just can’t do that. It’s beyond me to be the sort of guy he needs me to be,” Maxx admitted, his voice breaking at the admission.
I was absolutely bewildered by the man who stood with me in the cold January air, his fingers wrapped around mine. He had handed me honesty. I could only do the same. It was only fair. It’s what this moment deserved.
“Jayme tried to tell me about her boyfriend, Blake. I wouldn’t listen. She wanted me to know what was going on. I ignored her,” I let out in the barest whisper.
Maxx’s hand squeezed mine. “Jayme was your sister?” he asked, and I nodded, feeling my throat tighten with a suppressed emotion I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a very long time.
I pulled in a shaky breath. “He’s the worst kind of evil. Blake. He hooked her on drugs, used her over and over again, and then left her to die. But maybe I’m even worse because I had the chance to save her and I didn’t. I was so focused on my own life I didn’t see how much she needed me.” My voice was a strangled sob.
Maxx pulled me into his chest, his arms coming up to press me close, as though I could burrow inside him and be safe. I curled my arms up underneath me and tried to get my breathing under control. I didn’t cry. I never cried. My tears had dried up a long time ago.
But I felt the seams of my world tearing apart as Maxx held me. Something had been altered in the fabric of my universe, and I didn’t know what that meant for me or for the man who held me.
I felt Maxx lean down, his breath fanning across my face. And still he said nothing. He just held me tightly against his body, and I thought I might have imagined the tiny kisses along the crown of my head.
But I hadn’t imagined how in the space of a few minutes I had calmed down. I could breathe easier, and I was able to unclench my fists.
After what felt like an endless amount of time, he released me. “You should get home,” was all he said, his hands returning to the pockets of his jacket. I felt disjointed by the abruptness of our physical separation.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed, unable to summon up any sort of smile to give him, even though I wanted to. I needed to rest. I was sick and tired, but just then I felt . . . all right.
Maxx swallowed; I watched his Adam’s apple bob. He wouldn’t look at me. He seemed suddenly wary and skittish and ready to be rid of me.
“Good night, Aubrey,” he said, turning his back and heading toward the parking lot.
I picked my pride up off the ground and turned to leave, a rush of emotion settling like a thick blanket of unease over my heart.
chapter
ten
maxx
i sifted through the pills in the plastic baggie, my fingers lifting, then dropping them. I wanted one. Just one.
One would be it.
That’s all I’d need to feel good.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
I didn’t consider myself an addict, though that was the label the court system wanted to give me.
They said I needed help, an intervention.
What I needed was a new fucking life.
I picked out two pills and set them in my palm.
I stared at them, as if waiting for the mysteries of the fucking universe to be answered.
Come on. You know you want me. We’d have such a good time together, they whispered.
“You know how to make me feel better,” I murmured, rubbing the smooth surfaces with my thumb.
Yeah, I was freaking crazy. Talking to my drugs was a sure sign of a serious mental break.
I had homework to do. I was struggling to stay above water. I was so damned close to graduating. I had made it this far. I made sure I did just well enough that I wouldn’t flunk out.
I owed it to Landon to try to make something of myself. I owed it to my dead parents, who had thought the boy they left behind was worth something.
The problem was I had lost all taste for the life everyone thought I should have.
The only taste I had was for the two tiny pills in my hand.
Never one for prolonging the inevitable, I popped the little pieces of happy in my mouth and crunched them with my teeth before swallowing.
I loved that moment when my arms went slack and my feet sort of disappeared. My mouth hung open, and my eyes drooped. My head stopped buzzing, and I stared at the TV, which wasn’t even turned on.
I’m not sure how long I sat there in my shitty apartment, staring at the dark screen, when my phone started ringing.
Ring, ring.
Ring, ring.
I patted the cushion beside me, but the phone wasn’t there. My head rolled to the side, and I tried to open my eyes, but they weren’t cooperating. My lips stretched into a smile. Damn, I felt awesome.
Ring, ring.
There it was. My phone sat on the coffee table, just by my feet, which were propped up beside it. Maybe my arms could stretch out and I could reach it, because right now they felt abnormally long.
I wished it would stop ringing. It hurt my ears, and I just wanted to lie there and think about nothing. Do nothing. Be nothing.
But it wouldn’t stop. It kept fucking ringing.
Didn’t the person on the other end realize I had more to do than answer the fucking phone?
I hoisted myself up and ever so slowly grabbed at the phone that just wouldn’t shut up.
I fumbled with the buttons as though my fingers had forgotten how to work. I laughed at how ridiculous it was.
Finally I connected the call and lifted the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” My voice sounded strange. No, it sounded like I was trying to have a good time. Fuck this fucker who was interrupting it.
“Fucking hell, man, I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour! Don’t you fucking know how to answer a goddamned phone?” the voice yelled into my ear.
I frowned.
“What?” I asked belligerently.
“What? Are you fucking serious? You were supposed to be here two hours ago! Gash is pissed. You know how he fucking gets when he’s pissed. Get your ass here now!” the voice roared.
“Is this Marco Polo?” I asked, sounding garbled.
“Are you fucking high again? That’s the only reason you’d risk an ass-kicking by calling me that. You’re supposed to be selling that shit. Gash is gonna shove it up your ass if you come here fucked-up. You were supposed to have the new location sorted already. It’s fucking Thursday, man. Please tell me you’ve found a place,” Marco begged, sounding panicked.
I knew I should probably be panicked too. Gash was not a guy you messed with. Marco was one of the doormen at Compulsion and had been a buddy of mine for a long time. He was also the guy who shaved a bit of extra cash off the intake every Saturday—cash that nicely lined our pockets. Between my drugs and his sticky fingers of stealthiness, we had created a nice little side business that was proving pretty profitable for both of us.