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Bang (Hard Hit Book 13)

Page 7

by Charity Parkerson


  Maksim took a breath. He had changed the rules. Marshall had some right to his anger. “Okay, setting aside the fact that you may as well have called me a whore just then, I’m not asking… fuck.” Maksim ran his fingers through his hair. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was asking. He just didn’t like the way Marshall made him feel sometimes. “I guess I didn’t realize I would feel anything when you pretended for the hundredth time I was here on business when Michael stopped by. It’s Michael, for God’s sake. I didn’t think I’d be a secret to everyone, including your brother.”

  Something dark passed over Marshall’s features before his expression turned sad. Maksim wanted to kiss him and make his life easier. “I don’t think you’re a whore,” Marshall said, sounding as sad as he looked. “You have options and freedom. There’s nothing wrong with that. Plus, it’s not like you made me any promises. But I can’t bet my life and reputation on you. I can’t put my heart and career on the line for someone who’s made it clear I’m just a fun time. It was never my intention to hurt you or make you feel invisible. I don’t want to hurt you. Maybe…” Marshall paused and cleared his throat. His face screwed up as if he was in pain. “I think, maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

  “You think? Maybe?” Maksim needed more than that from Marshall.

  Marshall held his stare. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

  Maksim drew back. He could beg, but he didn’t know for what. He had been the one to say no strings. He’d been the one who acted like they didn’t matter. Maksim could hardly expect more now. Their conversation had started out so innocently. All Maksim had wanted was to know a little more about Marshall’s life. He’d never intended to make this about his unspoken feelings. In truth, he had no clue how things had gotten to this point.

  He nodded while searching for something powerful to say. Something that would take them back to where they’d been before Maksim’s feelings had gotten in the way. Nothing came to mind. “Of course. I mean, I never wanted to...” Maksim had nothing to say that wasn’t a lie. He took a deep breath and pasted on a fake smile. It wasn’t Marshall’s fault he’d gotten attached. “Have a nice life, Marshall Frost. I hope you see your every dream fulfilled.” Without looking back, Maksim headed for the door. He’d known things would end like this. The night he’d met Marshall, he shouldn’t have looked back when the man chased after him. He would’ve looked like a dick, but at least his heart would be intact. Now he’d have to relearn how to be a cold and heartless bastard. He’d have to relearn how to live without Marshall.

  The moment Marshall heard the door close behind Maksim, he lost his shit. Nothing he possessed or could ever own mattered as much as what he’d just lost. His skin itched, crawling with self-hatred. Rage coated his vision. He’d never met a soul he’d been willing to lose everything for before Maksim, but what he’d said was true. Maksim didn’t want strings and Marshall wouldn’t settle for that.

  Marshall’s chest heaved, as if he’d run for miles even though he hadn’t moved from the spot where Maksim left him. Anger boiled in his gut, making bile rise in his throat. His arm shot out, connecting with the glass enclosing his trophies. It shattered around him, biting into his skin. With the first blow and damage done, there was no going back. Marshall smashed everything in sight. This was all he had to show for his years on earth. Glass, plastic, and wood. Empty, cold awards. Trophies, just like him. He wanted them all gone. Marshall needed to be a clean slate. A slate someone might actually love.

  When there was nothing left to destroy, Marshall calmly sat. He felt... empty. Marshall didn’t kid himself. He loved Maksim. It happened when he wasn’t looking. He hadn’t meant to fall in love. Maksim had told him he didn’t do attachments. Marshall had known from the beginning they’d never be a real couple. They had fun. From their first night together, it had been more to Marshall. He should’ve sent Maksim away a long time ago—saved himself. Saved Maksim. He hated his weak nature. Maksim was proud of the life he’d built. Fuck people’s opinions. He made Marshall want to be the same. But Marshall couldn’t make Maksim love him. He didn’t know how.

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew Marshall’s gaze. Michael appeared. He froze halfway down. His gaze swept the room. “Holy shit.” He focused on Marshall. His eyes were huge. “Oh my god, Marsh. What have you done? You’re bleeding,” he gasped, racing down the stairs to hover. He fussed over the open wounds and oozing blood Marshall hadn’t noticed. Physical pain meant nothing. Marshall was numb to it all.

  “I cleaned,” Marshall said with a shrug while biting back a burst of hysterical laughter.

  Michael’s expression screamed he thought Marshall had snapped.

  “Jesus Christ,” Michael muttered, inspecting Marshall’s cuts. He ran back upstairs, returning with a towel. Michael wrapped the material around Marshall’s arm while Marshall stared at his brother’s pinched expression. Michael tried pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go. You need stitches.”

  Marshall’s lips twisted. “Nah. Just leave it.”

  Michael struck without warning. His palm collided with the side of Marshall’s head. “Stupid fuck. Get up. We’re going to the ER. I don’t know what the fuck happened, and you don’t have to tell me, but you are getting off your ass and into my car. Let’s go.”

  Marshall dutifully stood. It’s not like it mattered where he went. Everything was gone. Maksim was gone. The knowledge rocked him on his feet, and he swayed. Michael reached out, steadying him. Marshall focused on his twin for the first time, really seeing him and his concern. Marshall’s eyes filled with tears. Bending at the waist, Marshall set his hands on his knees and sucked air. His head spun. Maksim was really gone. Marshall had sent him away.

  “Tell me what to do,” Michael said, rubbing his back and sounding panicked. “Should I call an ambulance?”

  “I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. Why did I do that?”

  “Who?” Michael asked, justifiably sounding confused.

  “Maksim,” Marshall choked out. Even saying the man’s name was like knives in his throat. “Why did I do that?”

  Michael kept rubbing his back, as if that was the answer to everything. “Because you’re a man, and a Frost. We fuck things up when our hearts are on the line.” Michael bent and craned his neck, forcing Marshall to meet his stare. “You need stitches. So let’s go get them. Then you’ll find Maksim and fix whatever you’ve done.”

  Marshall straightened. “He’s not looking for a relationship.”

  Michael led him to the stairs. “Well, he has one whether he wanted it or not. Get your stitches, and then get your man.” Michael stopped at the front door and faced him. “And then you hang on, Marsh. No matter what you think people will say or do. No matter what you think our parents want. You hang on, because you deserve to be happy.” He opened the door and paused. Michael glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, and for God’s sake, stop fucking lying to everyone, including yourself. If you love this guy enough to do this to yourself, then step the fuck up and own it.”

  Despite everything raging inside Marshall’s head, a smile tugged at his lips. “I love you, twin.”

  “Yeah, well,” Michael said, throwing the door wide, proving how angry he was over Marshall’s stupidity. “I’m not so sure how I feel about you right now.”

  Marshall’s smile brightened as he followed Michael to his company car. Since Marshall worked out nonstop, and Michael was a small guy, they didn’t look as much alike any longer, except for their faces. Those would always be identical. Marshall wondered if Michael had figured out that was why Marshall always called him twin. Michael was the person Marshall loved most in the world. He never wanted to lose their connection. If anyone had to see him at his worst, Marshall was glad it was Michael.

  Chapter Seven

  Every gym in every town looked the same to Maksim. Some of them were bigger. Others were cleaner. But, for the most part, they were all the same. There were women and men who never seem
ed to do anything other than stare at themselves in the mirrors while there were others who grunted and dropped weights. Maksim preferred going late at night when the place was almost empty. He could be as gung ho or lazy as he chose without any witnesses. Plus, he hated waiting for machines.

  Tonight, he’d chosen to go late for another reason—Marshall worked out here. The last time they’d ran into each other at the gym, it had been mid-day, and Maksim knew from spending time with Marshall, he was a morning person. Maksim needed something to do, but he didn’t want to chance seeing Marshall. Three weeks without him wasn’t enough fortification on his walls. He needed to rebuild his defenses if he planned to ever run into Marshall again. Right now, Maksim just hurt. Everything ached from the tips of his toes to his roots. Losing Marshall made Maksim realize how smart he’d been for avoiding entanglements before now. Nothing good came of caring. Maksim planned to never care again.

  “I haven’t seen you here in a while.”

  Maksim glanced up at the unfamiliar voice. The red-haired man looked vaguely familiar, but Maksim wasn’t in the mood to chat today. “Yeah, I’ve been busy.” Maksim stood and wiped down his machine.

  The dude didn’t let up. He followed on Maksim’s heels to the leg press. “I’m Trent. Marshall’s friend,” he tacked on when Maksim didn’t bite.

  The memory hit. This was the guy who’d been working out with Marshall the first time they’d run into each other here. Hearing Marshall’s name hurt. Maksim tried hiding it. “Sorry. I remember now. I meet a lot of people,” Maksim added, trying his best not to seem rude. The longer he thought about it, the more Maksim realized this wasn’t the only place he’d seen Trent. “Have I met you elsewhere? You seem familiar.”

  Trent lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I’m an on-ice official for the hockey league.”

  “Ah.” There it was. Maksim had seen the man several times now that he thought about it. “Now I feel like an ass.”

  “Just for that?” Trent’s friendly smile never wavered, but something in Trent’s tone gave Maksim the feeling he’d walked into a trap.

  Maksim was a smart enough man to know if he was in a hole to stop digging. He didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted his eyebrows in question and waited for the other shoe to drop.

  Trent’s smile disappeared. He cast a look around, as if ensuring he wouldn’t be overheard before focusing on Maksim once more. “I’d always heard you were a player, but you broke my boy’s heart, and that ain’t cool.”

  All Maksim could do was blink while his mind scrambled to catch up. There was no way Trent knew about Marshall. Not to mention, he’d been the one crushed in that equation. No matter how hard he racked his brain, Maksim couldn’t figure out what was happening.

  Trent snorted. It was an ugly sound. “Exactly how many dudes have you been fucking that you’re still trying to decide who I’m talking about?” Before Maksim could dredge up a response, Trent made a dismissive gesture. “Jesus, don’t answer that and give me more reason to be pissed. Do you have any idea how much Marshall risked on you? Personally, I don’t care if you fuck everything that moves, but Marsh, he’s like a kid in some ways. Making him think you cared was just cruel.”

  The shock of learning Trent knew about his relationship with Marshall rendered Maksim mute. He realized—in a detached way—there were arguments he should make. His brain refused to budge. Trent knew. He’d been certain no one knew.

  “I’ve always called him my man child.” For the life of him, Maksim had no fucking clue why those were the words that decided to pop out.

  “That makes it so much worse,” Trent said with a shake of his head. “Because that right there proves you know exactly what I mean.” Trent walked away, as if too disgusted by Maksim to bother a moment longer.

  Maksim went after him. It fucking mattered that anyone thought Maksim didn’t care. For once in his life, he did, and it fucking mattered. “I love him,” Maksim said, keeping pace with Trent. Trent stopped so fast Maksim nearly ran him over.

  He spun. “What?”

  “I love him,” Maksim repeated, unashamed. “But I’m tired of being his secret,” Maksim added, putting everything out there. “I’d never ask him to risk his career or do anything he wasn’t comfortable with. But I haven’t spent my life fighting and working twice as hard as the guy beside me because I’m openly gay and they’re straight, just to have someone fucking hide me.”

  Trent looked every bit as shocked as he should. Maksim never thought he’d love anyone either. Everyone knew he couldn’t be tied down.

  “I love you too.”

  Maksim’s heart dropped into his stomach. Too late, he realized Trent’s surprise wasn’t due to Maksim’s confessions as much as it had to do with Marshall standing behind him. Trent dropped his gaze to the floor and shuffled away, looking like a kid who’d gotten busted tattling.

  Maksim’s eyes fell closed. He took a deep breath before turning to face the man who’d ripped his heart out. Marshall looked like hell. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and his face was pale. He didn’t look like he’d slept in forever. Maksim’s throat burned. He wanted to take care of Marshall. The man needed someone who made sure he slept and ate. He needed someone to love him. Maksim did.

  Marshall’s gaze moved over Maksim’s face, as if trying to memorize him. Maksim knew the feeling. He’d never been more scared of never seeing someone again. “I don’t know what to do,” Marshall said, sounding as lost as he looked.

  The pains in Maksim’s chest made him wonder if this would kill him. “I can’t tell you the answers. You have to figure life out on your own terms.”

  “You said you love me.” Marshall’s gaze continued moving over Maksim’s face, as if searching for the truth.

  “I do. You said you love me too.”

  Marshall nodded. “I do.”

  Each breath Maksim took came harder than the last. “There’s always been strings,” Maksim said, because he knew where he’d gone wrong. “Since that first night together, I’ve thought of you as mine, and I’ve been yours.”

  Marshall blinked and looked away for a second, as if Maksim’s confession nearly broke him. He cleared his throat before meeting Maksim’s gaze again. “Trent and Michael have known about you all along. You weren’t a secret. I was just scared to let you have too much of me, because you didn’t act like you wanted it.”

  God, they were stupid. Maksim cast a quick glance around the gym. It was late and very few people milled around. There was no possibility of them being overheard, but Maksim still couldn’t kiss Marshall.

  “I’m sorry,” Marshall said, pulling Maksim’s focus back to him. “It never occurred to me I was pushing you back in the closet,” Marshall added, making it harder and harder for Maksim to withstand not touching him. “I understand if you don’t want anything else to do with me.”

  “Fuck, Marshall,” Maksim breathed, tilting his head back and seeking guidance from above. He blew out a loud breath before dropping his chin and meeting Marshall’s stare again. The green eyes he dreamt about every night stared back at him, looking every bit as desperate as Maksim felt. Maksim couldn’t take it. “You’re a goddamn fool if you don’t realize by now I’d rather be your secret than anyone else’s husband.”

  Marshall bit his bottom lip, but deep lines appeared next to his mouth, as if he fought a smile.

  Maksim held up a hand, stopping him before things went any farther. “But I’m not hiding in the bedroom if someone shows up at your place unexpectedly. I’m not thinking up some on-the-spot lie every time someone sees us in public. If you want to lie to people, that’s on you.”

  “I love you,” Marshall said, nearly bouncing on his toes.

  “Damn,” Maksim breathed before he could call it back. “I’ve missed my man child. Are we going home?”

  Marshall held up one finger. A line of stitches running down Marshall’s arm caught Maksim’s eye. He didn’t give Maksim time to ask about them. “Give me just a sec
ond.” He stepped around Maksim. Maksim turned and watched him cross the room. As Maksim looked on, Marshall one-arm hugged Trent and said something against the man’s ear before returning to Maksim. “I couldn’t leave with him thinking I was mad,” Marshall explained as he passed, heading for the door. Maksim stayed on his heels. He didn’t know if this new arrangement would work, but he’d tried not loving Marshall, and that hadn’t gotten him anywhere. Right now, he’d live in the present and take what he could. Being without Marshall was too damn hard not to try.

  As Marshall walked through his front door with Maksim behind him, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. It was an odd thought, but he wanted to touch Maksim and didn’t know if Maksim would let him. Instead, he focused on the small things. He set his keys on the table by the door. He toed off his shoes. After that, he cast a desperate look around, searching for anything.

  Luckily, Maksim didn’t seem to have the same issue. “We should take a shower.”

  Marshall’s gaze shot to his. Maksim looked so damn confident and secure—like he believed in them. “Yeah. I never got around to my workout, but it’s been a long day.”

  “Can you get those stitches wet?”

  Marshall twisted his arm and eyed the long row of sutures. “Yeah. I’m supposed to get them out tomorrow, so they’re good.”

  Maksim’s hand lifted, as if he meant to stroke Marshall’s wound, before falling back to his side. “Do you plan on telling me what you did?”

  “Something stupid,” Marshall answered with a smile of embarrassment. “Let’s just say, the cleaning lady won’t need to dust my trophy case any longer.”

  Without a word or asking for permission, Maksim stepped around Marshall and hit the stairs. Marshall headed for the bathroom inside his bedroom. He kept his mind carefully blank as he fired the shower to life. Steam filled the room. Marshall pulled his shirt up and over his head. Warm lips touched his shoulder. Marshall’s eyes fell closed. The smallest touch from Maksim always left him undone.

 

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