The Right Kind of Reckless

by Heather Van Fleet

  I rubbed her back and kissed her cheek, inhaling the scent of her strawberry shampoo. “Baby, we all gotta freak out sometimes. The important thing is you had a good reason. And that doc needed to be dealt with.”

  Lia’s body shook with laughter this time, the noise so soft I could barely hear it over my thundering heart. I should’ve gone with them. I knew that lady was a coldhearted bitch the second she sneered at the beautiful girl in my arms. Yet I’d been too freaked to do anything then.

  Why was that? How could I get through two years of fighting insurgents in the desert, yet I couldn’t handle seeing Chloe get hurt?

  “I’m sorry I spaced out when we got here.”

  Lia sat up straighter, eyes watering as she searched my face. “You were scared. So was I. It was a natural reaction. When something bad happens, I either get bitchy or take charge. You, on the other hand, go catatonic.” She shrugged. “It’s called dealing with our demons. We all have ways of doing it. Some are active; some are not.”

  I leaned forward, kissing her lips this time. “I still don’t like it. I’ll work on that for you. You need a man who can be strong for you.”

  “Oh, come on, Maxwell. I don’t need that. If anything, I just need a partner to be strong at my side, not for me.” She brought my hand to her lips, kissing the backs of my fingers. “We’re not expected to know what to do at every waking moment in our lives, you know.”

  “Not what I’ve been taught. Growing up, I had to be on defense all the time with my father. Then when me and Ma finally left him, we were still on defense, trying to make it through life. I had to be the man she needed.”

  Lia yawned and toyed with the neckline of my shirt. “You’re not on the frontline anymore, and I’m not your mom. It’s okay to let someone else be the hero once in a while.”

  She snuggled against my chest, and I draped my arms over her legs. I pulled her as close as I could, trying to get into that mind-set—the non-heroic kind. Love made me into that man, the one wanting to be her protector and the man she was in love with.

  Still, I was okay with doing things her way, even if that meant sharing a little weakness with her. Not sure what that said about me as a man, but as Lia’s boyfriend, things were different.

  Silence stretched between us, our chests rising and falling at an almost identical pace. At one point I thought she’d gone to sleep, until she finally whispered, “If you and I had gotten together earlier in life, do you think we’d be where we are now?”

  “Fuck yes.” No doubt in my mind. I knew Lia was someone different from day one. It’d just taken me a while to get off my lazy ass and do something about it.

  “Don’t be mad.” She toyed with the back of my hair, her breath a whisper against my neck. “But I don’t think we would’ve.”

  My jaw locked, but I concentrated on keeping the rest of my body relaxed. I didn’t like thinking like that. If I wanted something, I got it and then kept it. Sure, we would have been a hell of a lot younger and were going through some bad shit then, but everything in me believed our relationship would’ve panned out in the end.

  “Doesn’t matter.” She cuddled in closer, her lips grazing my neck as she spoke. “I’m here, you’re here… We’re right where we belong now.” She yawned again.

  I held her closer. “Yes, we are.” That was the one thing I knew for certain.

  Chapter 26

  Lia

  The small window of the hospital room showed it was nearing dawn when my eyes opened. The early morning rays of sun were just beginning to filter into the dark, white-walled space. Although I’d only fallen asleep an hour or so ago, I felt like I’d been down for days. Scratchy lids made my eyes burn, and I rubbed the edges, trying to regain my sense of the here and now.

  Doing my best not to disturb Chloe, who lay asleep by my side, I slipped my leg over the edge of the bed and set my bare feet on the cold hospital floor. Beneath me, the mattress shifted and I quickly glanced over my shoulder to make sure she was still asleep. Of course she was. The girl had been through hell. And without her daddy by her side.

  Guilt ate away at me when I stood to stretch. The thought of them wrapping her arm in that heavy temporary cast the night before about broke my heart. All the poor little thing did was cry out in pain, at least until the past couple of hours when a new dose of pain meds was given.

  My body ached from lying in one position for a while, my limbs heavy from what little sleep I got. I blinked, catching a glimpse of my mom sleeping in the same chair Max and I had cuddled in the night before. Her pale face was a stressed mask even in her sleep, and I brushed my hand over the top of her head. I’d worried her and Dad so much with my reckless behavior. God, if they ever got word of my arrest, they’d renounce me as their daughter once and for all.

  Speaking of Dad, his voice rocketed from outside the room, followed by Max’s soft laugh. I couldn’t help but smile at the sound. I loved how close they were.

  Before pushing open the door, I grabbed my sandals. Not wanting to wake Mom or Chloe, I didn’t put them on, just tucked them under my arm. The doctors thought it best for Chloe to stay a couple of nights at the hospital, just so they could keep an eye on her. And since she seemed to be in so much pain, nobody argued the fact.

  Collin would be flying in early tomorrow evening, something about his plane having been grounded due to mechanical failure. I knew not being here was probably driving him crazy, but with Gavin, Max, my parents, and me all teaming up, Chloe was in good hands.

  Since this was a small family-focused hospital, two people were able to stay in the room with Chloe all night. My mom and I had volunteered. Dad and Max had camped out in the lobby, while Gavin left late, claiming he had somewhere to be.

  “Hey.” Max’s greeting was a breathy sigh, his eyes quick to meet mine.

  Too tired to care about my dad’s thoughts, I headed straight to Max, latching my arms around his neck. “Good morning.”

  I snuggled my nose against his neck, and he squeezed a little tighter, his body molding to mine.

  Dad cleared his throat. “Why don’t you two go home? Try to get a little rest. Mom and I will stay until Collin gets here tomorrow.”

  “And Addison will be here too, so he won’t have to deal with this on his own.” I pulled back, keeping my arm around Max’s waist.

  Dad sighed. “Addie has to stay behind. Apparently, her mother took a turn for the worse last night.”

  “Oh no.” I pressed my hand over my mouth. And here Collin had to leave her alone so he could come deal with his daughter and her newly broken arm—a broken arm that had resulted from our carelessness.

  Like he knew what I was thinking, Max turned to me and cupped my face between his hands. “Your dad’s right. We should head out. Maybe make Beaner some cookies for a welcome-home present.”

  I nodded, trying to smile, but the ache buried in my throat made the action nearly impossible. “Okay.”

  Not bothering to say goodbye to Mom and Chloe, the two of us walked hand in hand down the hall. In the car, Max kept hold of my fingers, placing them on his lap. He cleared his throat as we pulled out of the lot. “Where do you want to go?”

  I stared at his thumb as it stroked over mine. His hands were so warm and comforting, a reminder that I didn’t want him to leave me today.

  “I want to go wherever you go.”

  He blew out a slow breath. “Good.” Lifting my hand with one of his, he kissed the back of my knuckles. “I wasn’t gonna leave you alone, even if you asked me to.”

  “That could be considered stalking, you know.” I smiled, secretly thankful our thoughts were in sync.

  “Then arrest me, baby, ’cause I can’t resist.”

  Shaking my head at his corny pun, I looked at him and said, “You’re insane.”

  “And you love it.”

  He kissed the back of my h
and once more, but the only thought running through my mind was: That I do.

  It was Sunday, and everything was about to change again. That thought hurt my heart. This was our last day alone, which meant Max’s and my temporary peace was over. The good thing was that we’d agreed to tell my brother sooner rather than later about us. Neither Max nor I wanted to keep it a secret. Still, the idea of telling Collin—especially after what happened with Chloe—made my stomach sour and twist like I’d eaten something rotten.

  No matter what, I wouldn’t let anything keep me from Max. I also wanted everyone to know we were together. He and I were real and right and everything I wanted. From here on out, I would do whatever I could to make that happen.

  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 sh
e 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.