How To Resist A Heartbreaker

by Louisa George

  ‘Truth is, you love her.’

  Wow. That had come from nowhere. Did he? After such a short time? And how the hell did Mitch know?

  Because Mitch had known everything, once. Whatever he himself wasn’t, Mitch had made up for. A right and a left. Two halves that made way more than a whole. They didn’t have that telepathy thing going but they did have some weird mutual understanding. ‘I don’t know if that’s possible, Mitch.’

  ‘I think you do.’ Mitch bumped against him in a kind of friendly nudge. ‘That’s okay, you know. You can love someone.’

  Max didn’t want to. Had never wanted to, not if his emotions paid such a price. He’d been running on empty for so long. ‘Can I? Can we? After everything that happened to us?’

  ‘Well, I do. I love Jodi and Jamie more than anything. And it involves risk. You have to put yourself on the line. And God knows whether they’re going to be here tomorrow—you and I both know the realities there. But it’s worth every second you spend with them anyway.’

  And that was about the most honest thing Mitch had said to him in nearly thirty years. Decades of pain welled up in Max’s chest until he could barely breathe. ‘But what happens if it falls apart? What if they…you know…?’

  ‘What if they leave?’ Mitch dragged his chair across the linoleum to face Max. ‘Well, you’ll survive. You will. You’re strong. You’re a Maitland, for God’s sake.’

  A Maitland. Brothers. Tied together by blood, the same DNA. Identical. But so many differences for so long.

  Silence stretched across the gap between them, wound through the corridor, filled the spaces. And along with it came an immense need to talk to Mitch. Really talk. The way he’d wanted to since…since forever. ‘I missed you like hell, you know. After they took me away.’

  If he was surprised at this admission, Mitchell didn’t let it show on his face. His gaze dropped to the paper cup in his hand. ‘You didn’t even look back. I thought you were glad to be leaving me behind.’

  What? ‘Glad?’ It was so far from the truth it was laughable. Thick emotion filled Max’s throat. Sucking in oxygen, he forced words out. ‘Dumbass. I was your big brother. I was supposed to stop it happening, and I couldn’t. It was bad enough that I failed you. I couldn’t look back and let you see me cry, too. What would you think of me then?’

  ‘That you cared.’

  Holy hell. ‘You thought I didn’t care, Mitch?’

  ‘I was six. I didn’t exactly rationalise it. Everyone was leaving, and you didn’t seem to kick up a fuss. Then there was all that competitive stuff. If it hadn’t been for the spectre of your success, I’d have been happy. Especially since you didn’t seem to care about me. I hated it, and in a screwed-up kind of logic ended up hating you too.’ He paused. Breathed. ‘And then there was Jodi…’ Mitch’s gaze hit him. Honest. Sincere. And filled with the same kind of feeling Max had churning round his gut. Something like an apology. A need to make things right. Mitch smiled. ‘I love her. Honestly. I wasn’t trying to play her. Or you. It wasn’t a game to me.’

  Max shrugged as he heard what he’d always known but had chosen not to believe. ‘Yeah. I know that now. Didn’t seem like that at the time, though.’

  ‘Guess we need to grow up, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Taking a chance, Max stuck out his hand and Mitchell grabbed it. They hung on, way too long. Like two idiots.

  Pretty momentous. This would be where girls hugged or something. They weren’t there yet, but it was ground-breaking Maitland history.

  Max’s heart squeezed with relief. A stupid stinging sensation hit his eyes as he looked into his brother’s. They dropped their hands. Looked away. At the floor. At their feet.

  But Max noticed the smile on his brother’s face was as broad as his own.

  Another silence followed, this time a more friendly one.

  Eventually Mitch leaned across. ‘The other day, when you were talking about Fred, you mentioned something about stuff happening. You want…?’ Turning his palms up, Mitch offered Max his chance to explain.

  But Max had shared enough today. ‘Nah.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah. Long time ago. Best forgotten.’

  ‘Maybe one day, right?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Goddamn, would that lump in his throat go?

  One day he’d tell his brother the truth about the regular beatings, the pressure he’d had to excel, how much he’d wanted to be part of Mitchell’s family, how jealousy had eaten away at him and turned into hate.

  But for now it was enough his brother had asked.

  Suddenly Max had to walk. Find some space. Breathe. For so long he’d wanted to end that rift between them. To tell the truth, finally.

  Yeah, the truth was he’d missed and loved his brother. And he wanted him back.

  He wanted a family. More than anything.

  And more than that, he wanted to share it with Gabby.

  Gabby.

  Max stood and shook out his tight muscles. Needed some air to unclog his throat. To think about his next step. ‘Thanks, Mitch. Really. Thanks. I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Anytime, mate. You know where I am.’

  ‘Sure thing.’

  Max walked out of the hospital, through the car park, over to the patients’ garden, where he found a bench lit by a slither of moon.

  Some joker had planted a peace sign made out of squat purple bushes, and a border of bright scarlet flowers. They reminded him of his sky garden. Of her. Of what she’d brought into his life. Hell, everything reminded him of her. The Auckland skyline, sunshine. The hospital. His apartment. He looked at everything touched with her image or smell, or some memory.

  He cared for her. That was the truth.

  Love? He didn’t know about that. Couldn’t define it in such simple yet complex terms. But she was special. And he wanted her. Maybe they could agree to some sort of commitment. Make a first big step.

  Even thinking about that word sent shivers running through him. This was so far out of his comfort zone he didn’t know what to do. Say. Think. But he had a gut feeling they should try and take this to another level. He just had to wait out the hours it would take to fix her.

  And while he sat it occurred to him that Mitch was way more evolved than he was. He had a girlfriend and a child. People he could share things with. To help him relearn the truth about love. And he wanted that so badly. With Mitch. With Gabby. Trouble was, he was scared. Because he knew that sometimes the truth hurt, too.

  *

  Finally the obs and gynae reg sauntered along the corridor as if he’d simply been to the park and not just saved a life. ‘Hey, Max, she’s out of surgery now. It was a bit of a mess really. Her right fallopian tube was just about to blow, so we removed it. But her left one is scarred too. She has grade-four endo.’ The doc smiled gently and put his hand on Max’s arm. ‘I’m very sorry, but the chances of her getting pregnant naturally again are virtually impossible and very risky.’

  Whoa. Hold on. This was too much to take in. Pregnancy? ‘How far along was she?’

  ‘Five, six weeks. We could talk about assisted fertility anytime you want. There are options.’

  Endometriosis. Infertility. All added up to a bleak future. But she was safe and alive. And that’s all he damned well cared about. ‘No. Thanks. I don’t need to talk about this right now. I need to see her.’

  The doctor shrugged. ‘Of course. When she’s out of Recovery we’ll take you up to the ward.’

  ‘I’ll walk her up from Recovery.’

  ‘You and I both know that’s not a good idea.’

  Yeah, well, he hadn’t had many of them recently.

  She’d been pregnant. With his child. And had nearly died.

  God. Clearly due to their recklessness. The Pill had failed, probably due to the vomiting bug they’d all had. He was surmising. Trying to make sense of it.

  Had she known? He didn’t think so. And now he had to tell her not only had she lost her baby but s
he couldn’t have any more. Not without intervention. And there were never any promises there.

  She didn’t want kids—she’d told him that. And neither did he. He hadn’t ever given it much thought on top of not settling down. Not having kids had completed that picture for him.

  But this—this was a game-changer. Emotions he hadn’t known he had seeped through his skin.

  A baby. His baby. A father.

  Wow.

  No one had warned him about the intense possessiveness a man could feel just hearing a word. One simple word. And the crushing hopelessness. The heavy weight that pressed on your chest and stole your breath. The pumping of adrenalin. The way for a second the joy unfurled enough to create hope, before it was whipped away on a senseless, cruel wind of reality. A father no more.

  Truth dawned, crystallised in front of him. He did want a family, to be a father, to give a child the kind of things he’d never had. It was a shock. It was too cruel to realise that now, when it was too late, that he wanted what Mitchell had.

  Without giving a second glance to the doctor, Max stalked away.

  His pacing outside the ward probably gave the nurses a scare but he didn’t care. The second he saw them walking towards him he darted past and in to her bedside. She was all wrapped up in blankets and tubes. The regular beep of the monitors assured him that she was mending.

  He took a seat next to the bed and held her hand until her eyelids fluttered open.

  She blinked up at him with groggy eyes. ‘Hey.’

  A hot, unfamiliar feeling washed over him. Gratitude and relief mixed with that tight ache in his chest. She was safe but their baby wasn’t. ‘Hey. You gave us all a bit of a fright. We had to operate, but you’re okay. And everything’s going to be just fine.’ He promised her that much. He’d make it right. Somehow.

  ‘What was wrong? Appendix or something?’

  He didn’t answer directly, didn’t want to upset her so soon after the surgery. ‘Rest now, I’ll explain it all later. You’re doing great. How do you feel?’

  She coughed and ran a palm over her dry lips. Her voice was crackly and hoarse from the intubation tube. ‘On a scale of one to ten? Minus three. How do I look?’

  ‘On a scale of one to ten? Eleven.’

  ‘You are so full of—’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘Quiet now. The nurses said you weren’t to get excited.’ So how the hell he was going to tell her about the pregnancy and the scarring he didn’t know.

  Coward. She needed to know.

  All in good time.

  ‘Don’t kid yourself, Maitland.’ She managed a weak smile. ‘You don’t excite me. Irritate, obviously. Annoy, intensely.’

  He couldn’t help grinning. At least she hadn’t lost her spirit. The one thing that kept her so beautiful, so different from everyone else. One of the many things he admired in her. ‘They clearly didn’t insert a “nice gene” while they were rummaging around in there.’

  ‘Nice is so overrated.’ As her eyes closed, her breathing settled and her grip on his hand relaxed. ‘I’m all out of talking. Now go.’

  ‘Like hell. I’m staying all night.’

  And then he’d broach the subject of the baby.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘THANK GOD FOR my own bed.’ Gabby slunk further under her duvet and closed her eyes. Safe in her own space away from the prying eyes of the hospital staff. Without the cloying closeness of Max and his pitying looks. She needed space to grieve for the baby she hadn’t even known had been growing inside her. To come to terms with it and, yes, to move on.

  It felt like she’d be moving on forever. And yet she’d never escape.

  She allowed herself a few moments to not think. To not do anything. The last hour had been so full of pain and arguments with the hospital staff. Now she just needed peace and quiet.

  But half of her was on alert for the phone to ring. The doorbell. Her cellphone. Because as soon as Max found out he’d be on to her.

  No matter.

  He could go to hell like the rest of them.

  Funny, though, there’d been no tears when the nurse had whispered to her in the middle of the night and told her the truth of her situation. No tears, but a numbness that had spread through her body, a reconciliation that finally, finally Nonna’s promised punishment had come.

  No more babies. Nonna would be pleased up there on her fluffy perfect cloud—she’d warned something bad would happen. Now it had.

  No babies.

  For so long Gabby hadn’t even wanted any more. Hadn’t allowed herself to think of more. But now the ache in her stomach was nothing compared to the sharp hurt in her heart. Just like the first loss, this was devastating.

  She did want children. She wanted to be a mother sometime. Somehow.

  Each breath came coated with a stuttered pant. Everything she touched shook in her trembling hands. And yet there were no tears.

  ‘Gabby. Gabriella!’ A loud hammering on the front door jolted her upright.

  Max.

  She held her breath and waited for him to lose interest. Fat chance. The man was nothing if not determined. ‘Gabby. Let me in. I know you’re there.’

  Pulling the curtains tight, she closed her eyes, wishing to hell she hadn’t chosen a ground-floor bedroom.

  ‘Gabby.’ He’d moved now and was hammering on the French doors to her room. ‘I’m going to break the glass if you don’t answer.’

  Protecting her abdominal wound with her arm, she dragged herself up and leaned back on her pillows. ‘Go away, Max. Please.’

  ‘I will not go away. Either you let me in or I break the glass. You want that to happen?’

  No. She didn’t want anything to happen. She wanted the world to stop. In fact, to rewind to that first night when she’d taken courage in both hands and walked back to his apartment. She liked that brave Gabby. She wanted to be her again.

  Then she could change everything that had happened afterwards. Particularly the falling-for-him bit. And falling pregnant.

  But there was no getting away from it, she had to face him. Face the world. She’d have to go back to work and he’d be there, too. At some point she’d need to look him in the eye and explain.

  Because even though she’d long since reconciled the choice she’d made ten years ago, it was definitely the right one for them all. But she’d be taking a chance on Max believing her.

  She edged carefully out of bed, opened the curtains and unlocked the latch. Might as well do it now. Be damned once and for all.

  ‘Gabby, what the hell is going on? I leave the ward for an hour. One damned hour, and you discharge yourself. Are you okay?’ His fierce gaze bored into her as he strode into the room. He scrutinised her, checked her, assessed her all in one look. And, yes, for the record, she felt wanting. Seemed her mojo these days was sneaking away.

  She owed him an explanation, that much she knew. But did he have to break her heart all over again just by being so damned impassioned? And angry? And here?

  He didn’t deserve the pain he’d gone through, keeping vigil at her bedside. Or the inevitable pain she was storing up for him.

  What she wanted was for him to climb right into bed next to her. What she wanted was to cling to him and never let go.

  The right thing, however, was to be honest. And she was hardwired to do the right thing, no matter how much it hurt.

  His lips formed a thin line and he looked utterly stunned. ‘Are you barking mad?’

  ‘No.’ She eased back into bed. ‘I just needed to get away.’

  ‘How the hell are you going to look after yourself? What about your four-hourly obs, your medications?’

  ‘I’m a nurse. I know what to do. I’ll cope.’ It wasn’t the physical pain she was worried about.

  He lifted the duvet and tucked her legs underneath it. Covered her up and took her pulse. Sat on the bed next to her. Only then did he lower his voice to somewhere around seething point. ‘You want to tell me what’s going on?’<
br />
  She offered him a smile. ‘Hospital food really sucks. I’m definitely going to have a meeting about that when I get back.’

  ‘Food? Is that it? Really? You’re crazier than I thought. I could have got you something, a takeaway. You should have said.’ The concern on his face almost overwhelmed her. ‘You look terrible.’

  ‘Thanks. I feel like crap.’

  ‘I wonder why? You are unbelievable.’ She could see he was trying damned hard to be restrained when every impulse was to cart her back to the ward. The mad ward, probably. His breathing caught, and finally he snapped. ‘Maybe if you’d stuck to doctor’s orders, like any sensible person, you’d feel a little better. Maybe if you’d tried to talk to me instead of bottling it all up… What is it with you? When will you learn to talk to me? Tell me how you feel? When the hell will you trust me?’

  I can’t.

  He started to gather up clothes from her armchair and stuff them into a backpack.

  Jerking up, she tried to stop him. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m taking you back to the hospital until you’re well enough for discharge. I will bring food in. Caviar, lobster or whatever the hell Madame requires. But you’re going in.’

  ‘No way. Put that down. Do not dare root through my stuff.’ The pain finally winning, she sagged back against her pillow. ‘We both know how desperate they are for beds. I’d be discharged tomorrow or the next day, anyway. I just need sleep.’

  ‘And regular meds, and someone to cook for you.’ He counted on his fingers before shaking his head in dismay. ‘And someone to help you. To care for you. That anaesthetic has done weird things to your brain.’

  ‘I’m fine, but you’re not listening. I want to stay here.’

  ‘Okay, then, you win. I’ll move in here and look after you.’ He threw the bag to the floor. ‘Do not argue about this.’

  ‘No, Max, you can’t move in, and I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘So I have to stand back and let you put yourself at risk? I’m your…what am I exactly? Your boyfriend? No. Your lover? Your confidant? I don’t think so, because that would involve talking to me about things. You’re clearly not safe to make any kind of rational decisions.’ His face closed in and he stared at her. Then he actually laughed, deflating the tension. ‘Unless it’s to kiss me, of course. In which case I’d say you were very sane indeed.’