Redheaded Redemption (Redheads Book 2)

by Rebecca Royce

  “I don’t have clothes or toiletries. Or really anything.”

  Max took my hand for a second before he put it back on the steering wheel. “You do. My sisters and mom have dropped off some things for you. If you need more, we’ll get other things. I think you’ll be okay.” He turned up the heat. “I won’t let you be cold. My house is warm. I promise.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “I guess I never focused on the fact that you told me that you have a house in Maine. It just sits empty?”

  “My brother James watches out for it for me. I bought it after Hayley’s closed. Thought I might just go home and chop wood forever.”

  I groaned. “Max…”

  “Not your fault. I chopped wood for a week and then I got busy plotting my return, but I bought the house anyway. I like having it in my hometown. It makes me feel like I can come back and not be a visitor even if, having spent a good six months really living there, I know I never want to live there full-time. Not ever.” He winked at me. “So you see, it was a time of clarifying certainty for me.”

  I sighed. “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  We drove in silence most of the rest of the way, and I dozed on and off. Eventually, the pain came back. I wrenched my eyes open to check the clock. Was this one of those moments when I was due for more meds, or was it one of those meds not strong enough to hold out over the time between doses? It was the first, and before I could even ask, Max opened the container and handed one to me. He pointed to an open water bottle sitting between us.

  I shook my head. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  “I remembered you needed meds. That’s not amazing. And we’re here.” He pointed ahead. “Just down this road.”

  I rubbed at my eyes and forced myself to be present. I might not have called it a road. It looked more like a path. Trees surrounded us, but eventually, we came up to a house lit from within.

  “My brother got it ready for us.” He shrugged. “He owes me like, a thousand favors.”

  We pulled into a garage that closed behind us, and I took a deep breath. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “Don’t thank me again. I’m thanked. I never do anything I don’t want to do, and seeing you through to the end of this mess is important to me. Come on. You’re going to sleep with me.” He got out of the car and flung open the door to the garage that led into the house. I followed him more slowly, taking in the surroundings as best I could, given the haze that was my brain.

  It was a lovely wood cabin, or at least it looked like one from the outside. On the inside, I found a fully modern house with three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, and a working fireplace. That much I gleaned from what he told me as he chatted around opening and closing closets to make sure it was all as it was supposed to be.

  What I saw was a warm, inviting room that had pictures of Max with other people all around it. Max bent down, still telling me about the house, and lit a fire in the fireplace easily. He barely even looked at the maneuver as he did it. Soon, a blaze lit up the comfortable room. He crossed to the fridge and opened it. One picture in particular caught my attention. It was on display above the fireplace. In it, Max posed with people who had to be his relatives. They had a look about them that said they were family—the long face, the cheekbones, the smiles. They all looked like a combo of their mom and dad. All eight kids. Two girls. Six boys.

  I remembered he’d told me about his family once, but it felt like a million years ago.

  “Remind me their names?” I held up the photo, so he’d know what I was asking.

  He smirked. “My mother must have put that photo there. I didn’t really decorate the place. She comes in here when I’m not in town and decorates it because, evidently, the fact that it’s bare makes her uncomfortable. In any case, that photo? We are actually standing in age order with my parents on either side of us.”

  That much I had figured out—not the age order, but his parents on either side. “What are everyone’s names?”

  “My parents are Hayley and James, the same name as my oldest brother. But people call my father Jim, and my brother is James, which is what they called my grandfather—James.” He winked at me and walked over with a glass of water in his hand, placing it in mine. “Did you follow that?”

  I nodded. “Think so.”

  “Good. Then, in order, we have James. My older sister, Susan. Me.” He grinned. “I was lucky number three. Two boys after me. David. Cameron. Then Trina. Vaughn. Jerome.” He pointed at the glass. “Drink that. They’re all married. They all have kids. We can go through all of them if you like.”

  I swallowed the drink. “No. Please not yet. At some point, if I’m going to meet them, then yes, but not yet. I’m not sure I’ll remember them all.”

  “Yeah, we’re going to get those pain meds decreased just as soon as it makes sense.”

  I put the picture back where his mother had placed it and sat on the couch. I didn’t know what time it was, if I should have been hungry, sleeping, or running in a circle. I had no idea whatsoever what I should be doing. But the couch was comfortable, the fire inviting, and I thought maybe sitting in front of it was just what I should be doing right then.

  He plopped down next to me and put his feet up on the coffee table between us and the fire. Since he’d done that, I did the same, although I’d never have presumed to do that if he hadn’t.

  “You will probably meet all of them. I’ll hold them off as long as I can, at least until you’re feeling more yourself. But there is no way that I’m going to be here with a woman and they aren’t all going to want to see who that is with their own eyes. I don’t bring people here, ever.”

  I sipped more of my water. “You’ll just have to explain I’m your friend who occasionally screws up your life.”

  He laughed, a deep belly version of it, and I grinned. “Sure. I can promise you that Trina has already told them some things. She was living with me when Hayley’s went under.”

  That’s when it occurred to me what I should have realized moments ago—Hayley was his mother’s name. The restaurant that had tanked had been named after his mother. I closed my eyes. This was going to be uncomfortable to say the least.

  What did I owe his family for having caused him so much pain? It had probably affected all of them to see that happen, and the restaurant had been named after his mom, a gift for her in that way. Max would probably say nothing, but was that true?

  “You’re thinking deep thoughts. Are you plotting something that is going to put both of us on the back of a motorcycle heading up a ski mountain, or is it past even what I can imagine?”

  I put my head on his shoulder. “Nothing of the kind.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you.” He kissed my hand again. “Do let me know ahead of time.”

  I groaned. “I’m not up for anything like that.”

  “But you’d admit the possibility if you were.”

  I smiled. “Maybe.”

  I must have dozed off because I woke up some time later. It was quiet in the room. We were both on the couch. My head was on his shoulder, and the fire crackled gently in the fireplace. It was warm, and I wasn’t in much pain at that moment. Still, my neck was stiff from the angle I’d been sleeping.

  Max made a noise, and it wasn’t a happy one. His face was scrunched up like he was himself in pain, and he shook his head back and forth several times before he cried out again. I sat up, realization dawning on me. He was having a bad dream, and it was a doozy.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “Max.”

  He didn’t open his eyes. If anything, he thrashed harder with his head. With no choice, I shook him gently but firmly. “Max. You’re having a bad dream. Wake up.” I kissed his cheek. “Come on, wake up.”

  With a startle, he jerked awake. He breathed heavily, like he’d been running, and then threw his arms around me, pulling me against him. I winced but didn’t complain. It wasn’t the best hold for me right then, but I wasn’t going to
complain when he needed me.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered. It was hard to wake up suddenly, whether you needed to or not.

  He nodded. “I’m okay. Bad dream. Thanks for waking me.”

  “Seemed like a bad one.” I held on to him right back. “Want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head. “No. Fuck no. I really don’t. Couldn’t if I wanted to. More of a memory than a dream. That year.”

  The one he’d never tell me about, the one probably responsible for why he called himself fucked up when he had it together better than anyone I knew.

  “Okay.”

  He pulled back. “Sorry, wasn’t thinking.” Max let me go. “Just grabbed you like that. Not okay. It’s late. I guess we both dozed off on the couch. Want anything? Hungry?”

  I didn’t. “No, I’m okay.”

  “Tomorrow, I’m going to feed you really well.”

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to eat. “Kind of borderline nauseated all the time.”

  “That’s because you don’t have food in your stomach. Tomorrow, we’ll get you settled. You’re going to need food if you’re going to make it through cold weather in Maine.”

  I let him lead me toward his bedroom. “Am I going to be shoveling snow?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past my sister to eventually decide that was part of your treatment.” He picked me up, and I yelped in surprise before I giggled. “So maybe hope really hard that it doesn’t actually snow.”

  He was trying hard to be upbeat, but I could see the shadows in his gaze. Whatever he’d been dreaming had shaken him up.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I will be. It’s been a while since that happened, but yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  His bedroom was simple. A king sized bed. A bureau. Closed windows with drawn curtains. Max set me down on the bed. “I’m going to go deal with the fire downstairs.”

  I rolled, carefully, off where he’d put me and made my way into the bathroom. I needed a shower, and I’d been given instructions on how to do that. It was tricky. I couldn’t let my wounds get wet, but I had to get clean, which meant sponge baths for the near future. I got busy getting the uncomfortable activity done and swore I would never take a bath for granted again. Every time I sank into the hot water, I’d feel grateful for the ability to do so.

  When I was sure I was clean enough, I stuck my head in the shower to wash my hair and then wished I had waited until I could have had some help. Still, I got it done. I officially smelled better. Max hadn’t lied—I had everything I needed. Even a bathrobe hung on the back of the door, ready for me. I wrapped myself up in it and went back into the room. Max lay face-down on the bed, his head turned away from me, his shoes kicked off. He’d gone back to bed. The thought made me smile. Like me, when I wasn’t drugged, sleep was hard for him. It was nice to see him comfortable again.

  As quietly as I could, I searched his drawers for my clothes. They were in the right part of the bureau, and I dressed myself as quietly as I could.

  Finally done, it was a little bit like I’d just been to the gym. My whole body hurt. I climbed in next to Max. He lifted his head, his eyes opening. “You would have called out if you needed my help, right?”

  “I would have.”

  He nodded. “Good.”

  We were warm, on the ground, and at least for now, no one was going to hurt us. That was enough.

  Chapter 17

  Four days later, I couldn’t remember why I had begged the doctor in Portland to cut back my pain meds. I ached all the time, and grouchy had become my middle name.

  Max eyed me from the kitchen but didn’t speak to me, which was probably smart, since I’d bitten his head off when he asked me if I wanted breakfast. Apparently, I didn’t do pain well.

  “Sorry,” I called out to him, hoping he’d know what I was apologizing for, since I didn’t have more in me right then.

  “Yep,” he answered fast. “My sister will be here soon to start PT. Are you sure I can’t offer you some eggs?”

  My stomach clenched at the thought. “Absolutely not.”

  The toast I had managed to keep down, despite how awful I felt, was all that I would be attempting any time soon.

  He nodded. “She’ll probably have my mother with her.”

  I darted to my feet, which was easier said than done. My shoulder was actually coming along a lot easier than the flesh wound over my hip. I’d never understand the why of it, and the doctor hadn’t seemed to have a lot of answers about that either. I limped toward the bedroom and made quick work of putting on some makeup and fixing my hair. I could live with his sister thinking I’d never seen the inside of a salon. His mother? No, not so much.

  Even though we were friends and not dating, so it shouldn’t really matter. It just kind of did. Not to mention it really was starting to feel like we were just friends. He’d made absolutely no moves to act like he wanted sex since we’d arrived.

  Of course, before yesterday, I’d been pretty out of it and apparently looking like the horror I’d seen in the mirror before I started applying makeup.

  “Is it going to run down your face when you are doing your exercises?”

  I jumped, not expecting to find Max in the doorway.

  “I hope it’s smudge proof.” I hadn’t bought the cosmetics myself. Someone else purchased the items, and I’d simply made do with what they’d provided. Truth was, they weren’t really my colors, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I was lucky someone thought of cosmetics at all.

  He came over and stood behind me so that I could see him in the mirror. “I don’t think anyone would judge you for being not put together right now. You’re gorgeous. So beautiful that you really don’t need makeup.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  “You sound like you don’t believe me.” He leaned his cheek against mine. “I realize you have very little self-confidence, which continues to blow me away because there is so much that is out of this world amazing about you, Hope, but I would think you would at least know that.”

  He smelled fantastic, and for a second, I closed my eyes and breathed him in. “Sometimes you say the sweetest things.” I opened my lids. “And sometimes you drive me crazy about eating eggs. I can’t meet your mother looking like you dragged me out of a river.”

  Max swatted my rear end gently, and we grinned at each other. “They’re really good eggs. You’re going to hurt after this. PT fucking hurts.”

  That I already knew. But I couldn’t help but let his words roll through me for a short second. Not long but enough to nearly bring me to my knees. I was going to hurt after this. Yes, he’d meant today and the workout. What if it had more meaning and he didn’t even know it? I was going to hurt after this.

  Somehow, I already knew that. When Max was done with me, I was going to hurt. A lot.

  His mother threw her arms around me, and I stopped breathing. Hayley Broadley was a hugger. “I am so happy to meet you, Hope. I am so glad you came here to heal, and I am so happy that you brought my boy home.”

  “Ah…” I wasn’t sure what to say. I’d never been embraced quite this way before, not instantly upon meeting me.

  “Mother.” Susan, Max’s sister, sighed. “I’m sure that can’t be comfortable, given her shoulder injury. Let her go.”

  Hayley jumped back, and Max put his arm around her. “It’s okay, Mom. Go easy on the hugging with Hope. She isn’t used to the Broadley brand of hugging strangers the first time we meet them.”

  His mother patted him on the arm. “That is how you make sure you’ve never met a stranger. You simply don’t allow them to stay that way.”

  Susan rolled her eyes, but there was mirth in them. “You should see how that goes when a stranger happens to wander into our little grocery store here in town. God forbid we don’t know their whole life story by the time they leave, have their cell phone numbers, and a date to see them when next they’re in town.”

  “I
… That sounds sort of awesome, actually.”

  Max shook his head. “Don’t encourage my mother, Hope.”

  He was not a hugger, per se, and he didn’t make friends with everyone he knew. Maybe there was a time he’d been like that and he wasn’t anymore. I didn’t know, but it was another piece in the Max puzzle I’d have to try to piece together at some point.

  “Come.” Susan took my hand. “Let’s get you sorted out. Maybe do some light stretches. It’ll hurt, unfortunately, but it will give my mother a chance to give Max the Broadley inquisition about why it took his girlfriend getting shot for him to come home.”

  I caught my breath. “We’re just friends.”

  “Uh-huh. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “I was once friends with my husband too. Five children later, and he alternates between being my best friend and the bane of my existence.”

  Five? How did she balance kids and her work? I followed after her as quickly as I could, which was staggeringly slow, unfortunately.

  Susan Broadley-Finache turned out to alternate between sweet friend and drill sergeant in a heartbeat of time. She had served, as all her brothers had, in the army and was a no-nonsense therapist who I was sure would get me back to full movement. I got the impression right away I wasn’t to whine, but I was to tell her if I had true pain.

  As everything hurt, it was hard to judge how much pain required notification. Still, I figured I’d eventually work it out.

  “So, you and my brother?” She didn’t bring that up until we were headed back to the living room. “What do you see in that grump?”

  I shook my head. “Max has been…amazing to me.”

  “Yes well, they do that when they are properly motivated, don’t they?” She winked at me. “I don’t know what I expected from you, Hope, but you are very different than whatever preconceptions I had. I followed you the last few years on social media. Well, I guess I sort of followed the Redheads in general. I got the impression you were incredibly shallow. Then you go and save a kid and get yourself shot up doing it. Somehow, you got tangled up with my brother. Although that last bit hasn’t yet blown up on social media.”