by B. N. Toler
“You okay?” Helen inquired.
“Yeah,” I murmured quietly, not wanting to disturb Pim as I felt her body begin to relax. It was incredible how hugging this tiny little girl that smelled like baby powder could make me feel so much better.
“How’d the appointment go?”
“Long story . . .”
“Speaking of that, where’s Waverly?” Helen asked, but before I could answer she was walking toward the dining room and peeking in. Turning back to me, she smirked. “I think she’s passed out.”
My brows rose. “Really?”
“Really.”
Taking a few steps toward me, she glanced up at me with her lips pressed together. She had something she wanted to say, but didn’t know how to.
“Spit it out, Hel,” I ordered as I bounced Pim who had her head nestled against my shoulder already on the brink of passing out.
“After I got Pim out of the bath and dressed, I put her on the floor while I went and hung the towel in the bathroom. When I came back,” she paused,” Pim had found something under Max’s bed.”
My eyes widened in horror as my mind went for the worst thing I could think of. “Please tell me it wasn’t a condom.”
Helen’s features twisted in disgust. “Ew, no,” she griped.
I released a relieved breath. “Thank, God,” I murmured against Pim’s head. “So what was it?”
“It was your backpack, Liam.”
“Damn,” I breathed. I’d forgotten about it. I remembered watching Max pick it up and run off with it, but with everything going on it got lost in the chaos. “He kept it,” I mumbled more to myself than to her. “Where is it now?” I questioned, worried Waverly might see it.
“I put it in the back of Max’s closet behind his suit jackets.”
I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God Waverly wasn’t the one to find it. I have no idea how I would have explained that.
“Pim also found this.” Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“What is it?”
Helen cleared her throat and leaned toward me. “I think it’s a suicide note, Liam,” she whispered. After she’d unfolded it, she handed it to me. The paper was creased everywhere from where it had been balled up when Pim found it.
That’s where the letter ended. Though it wasn’t a clear-cut suicide note, it could be read that way. If it was a suicide note, he must’ve changed his mind about killing himself. Or he changed his mind about leaving a note. Hence it was found balled up under his bed. I’d learned from Dr. Banahan that Max was a sick man, mentally. However he may have appeared to the world, they only saw what he wanted them to, not what he was. So I was more sad than shocked to read this letter.
Shaking my head, I opened my mouth to say something about it to Helen, but snapped it shut.
Max wanted to kill himself.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
“What?” Helen asked, taking the letter back from me.
“He was killing himself,” I sputtered.
“Or he was going to,” she shrugged.
“No, Helen,” I whispered loudly. “I think I know what happened.”
Helen didn’t ask, she only looked at me with inquisitive eyes, waiting for me to explain.
“I didn’t wake up as Max until five days after the accident.”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“Why five days? Why not immediately?”
She snorted. “Good question. Throw that in with why are you Max at all?”
“We’ll probably never have a logical reason for how it happened, but why that time frame?” I questioned again. “I think I know.”
“So . . . why?”
“I think he tried to kill himself, Helen. I think that’s why we switched. I think he did. He actually killed himself.”
“But he didn’t finish the letter. Maybe he changed his mind,” she pointed out.
My theory made my blood pump hard. Finally having some idea about how I became Max Porter hyped me up. With Pim knocked out cold in my arms I had to keep calm because I didn’t want to wake her. “The day I woke up as Max I found an empty bottle of scotch and an empty bottle of painkillers in the nightstand and a notepad. I think he overdosed.”
Her face scrunched up revealing her uncertainty. “But . . .” she motioned a hand at me, “obviously he didn’t. If he did, his body would be gone, and you wouldn’t be here.”
Shrugging, I blinked rapidly as thought after thought ricocheted through my mind. Dr. Banahan had offered me quite a bit of enlightenment earlier that day. I hated to think of any man coming to the point where he’d take his own life, but knowing what I knew, it wasn’t so hard to believe. “The same way we switched bodies. I can’t explain it. But . . . it makes sense.”
Helen was quiet for a moment, her forehead wrinkled as she was thinking. “You saved his life, and he tried to kill himself afterward?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
She cut her hard gaze at me, her stare riddled with anger. “You risked your life to save him, and he attempted suicide?” Same question worded differently. My face fell as I absorbed her expression and emotion. She was angry. “You might die and he just . . .” she stopped, choking on her words. “He just tried to end it?”
“Hel,” I said her name calmly as I pulled her in. In one arm, I held a sleeping Pimberly, and in the other, I held my weeping sister. “Don’t do this to yourself,” I begged her, quietly. “At least we have an idea about why this all happened.”
I knew that didn’t change anything, really. It certainly didn’t make the situation any easier or less confusing, but it helped me. It helped me to know that just maybe there was a why to all of this.
Pulling away from me, she swiped a paper towel from the roll and dabbed at her face. “You know, Liam,” she sniffled. “I know we’ve both wondered why, but honestly, I don’t feel any better knowing. We have three days before we have to take your body off life support. We have no idea what will happen.”
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—to comfort her, but froze. What could I say? This situation was shit, plain and simple, but I had to try . . . for her . . . I had to try to give her a more optimistic point of view, if that was even fucking possible.
“I know if I end up dying, you may not see this as a silver lining, but . . . at least we get to say goodbye, Hel.” It was hard to spin that as a silver lining, but it was one. If you’re fortunate enough to get to say I love you and share a goodbye with someone you care about before they die, you’re a lucky fucking bastard, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
Her jaw went slack as her body convulsed as a sob wracked her. The pain in her eyes almost took me down. Pinching my mouth together, I wanted to punch myself. I shouldn’t have said that to her. Even if it was true. Helen didn’t want the voice of reason, she wanted to cry and bitch and just be heard. Like my Grams always reminded me, God gave us a mouth that closes and ears that stay open. I’d only meant it to offer comfort; solace, but all I’d done was reiterate to her that we were only days away from saying goodbye to each other.
“I’m sorry,” I swung my arm around her and squeezed her to me. “Please don’t cry, Hel,” I pleaded, my throat tightening with emotion. “I know this has been hell for you and I’m sorry. I’m barely hanging on here myself, baby sister,” I confessed. “Please stay strong for me. Just a little longer, Hel. Please.”
Her body shook as she fisted my shirt and sniffled a few times. Then, with a sudden jerk, her head popped up, and she took a step back away from me. Nodding a few times, she inhaled a few deep breaths with her hands on her hips. She’d decided the time for crying was over. “Okay,” she repeated several times. “Okay, Liam. Okay.”
My mouth seeped into a sad smile as I gave her a curt bob of my head. She wanted to fall apart—I could tell—but she wouldn’t, even though she had every reason to: she was pregnant, exhausted from running between here and the hospital, raising a son,
and coping with the emotional beating she felt wondering if her only brother would die. Yes, Hel deserved a good breakdown, but my baby sister was tough as nails. She was a Hell Cat—little, but fierce. In our lives together I’d taken a lot of pride in being the brother she could always rely on, especially after we lost our parents. I was her rock, but damn if the tide hadn’t changed. Because I know without a doubt if Helen hadn’t been there for me after I became Max Porter, I’d have been a fucking wreck. She was my backbone. She was my rock.
I knew more than anything, we needed a subject change. I needed to give her something to occupy her mind. Something to keep her busy. “Would you mind taking baby girl so I can check on Waverly?”
Her gaze fell upon Pim, and she smiled. “Of course I don’t mind,” she whispered. Slowly and gently, I transferred Pim’s limp body to Helen who carried her off to bed. After they’d vanished from the kitchen, I folded the creased letter and slipped it in my back pocket. Putting my hands on the counter, I dropped my head. My poor sister. Involving her was selfish of me. It was taking a toll on her, and I had no idea what would happen to her after I died . . . if I did die. At that point, I had absolutely no reason to believe my life wouldn’t end in a few short days. Then what would she do? She’d be pregnant and in mourning. And what about Waverly? Talk about a woman good and pissed off. What would happen if Max returned and pulled the same asshole card on her? The weight of guilt hit me hard, and I clenched my eyes closed.
“God,” I prayed softly, my voice deep. “I know I’m not much of a praying man,” I admitted, “but dear Lord, please help me be strong enough to get me and these women with me through this without ruining them. Please don’t let me screw up that sweet baby girl. Please don’t let me be another disappointment to Waverly, another reason for her to resent men. Please don’t let me leave my sister emotionally drained. I ask nothing for me, Lord. Just these women. Please. Amen.”
With a deep breath, steadying myself, I made my way to the dining room, stopping at the doorway. I couldn’t help snorting a laugh to myself.
Waverly was out cold. Damn, she was a pretty woman even with her face smushed up on one side, against her arms. Scratching the back of my neck, I wondered for a moment if it wouldn’t be better just to leave her, but then I remembered her ankle, and she probably needed to have that propped up. I poked her arm a few times and shook her gently, but she didn’t stir. I was going to have to carry her to bed. Would she be okay with that? The night before, I had definitely crossed a line, one I wasn’t sure if she was upset with me for or not. She’d seemed okay at dinner—more than okay. She actually seemed . . . pleasant, but I was so preoccupied with my thoughts I didn’t pay it much attention. If I carried her to bed would she even remember, and if she did remember, would she bite my fucking head off for doing it? Probably the latter, I figured. I shook her again hoping like hell she’d wake up.
“Waverly,” I spoke quietly. “If you don’t wake up I’m going to carry you to bed,” I warned.
She didn’t stir.
“Okay,” I surmised. “I tried to warn you.”
With a bit of awkward maneuvering, I scooped her up. Even with all that commotion, she didn’t wake. Her body was as limp as a cooked spaghetti noodle in my arms.
She was light and soft, and her hair had an exotic fragrance that hit me. “Damn you smell good woman,” I grumbled to her, even though she was passed out and couldn’t hear me. Not that I wanted her to hear it. Slowly, I maneuvered through the apartment, careful not to bang her head or feet against any furniture or door frames. Helen was just leaving the bedroom after putting Pim down as I was about to enter. Her eyes were still red and swollen, but she looked like she’d calmed down a bit.
“Wow,” she chuckled. “Guess red wine is her nemesis.”
“Yeah, she hasn’t flinched.”
“Pim is out, too, so try to be quiet.”
“Got it,” I acknowledged.
Stepping up on her tippy-toes, she kissed my cheek. “I’m heading out,” she informed me. “I’ll be back bright and early to help out.”
“Thanks, Helen,” I whispered. “I love ya, sis.”
She smiled faintly. “I love you, too. Night.”
I watched her grab her purse and quietly scurry toward the front door.
It only took a few more tactical steps before I reached the bed and laid Waverly down. Delicately, I moved her leg and propped her ankle up on a mound of pillows. She let out a little snore making me smirk. She looked so . . . peaceful. I really liked the sleeping version of Waverly. I snorted a quiet laugh as I remembered her asking me what was up my butt while I was eating dinner. She was a smart-ass for sure, and I had to admit, I liked it. She wasn’t a pushover. She said what was on her mind, and she didn’t give two shits about offending someone.
Her lower lip was pouty, and I couldn’t help letting my imagination get the best of me as I thought about our kiss in the shower. She’d accepted it, and given into me. She’d wanted it as badly as I had. Just the thought of it as I stared down at her had me fighting the urge to bend down and kiss her again just to feel her soft lips once more.
Then, as I stared at her . . . it happened again.
I closed my eyes and shook my head adamantly. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I warned it.
But it did.
Max’s dick got hard.
“You motherfucker,” I growled. Looking down at my crotch I informed it, “It’s not happening, man, so you may as well calm the fuck down.”
Of course, it didn’t listen.
In fact, it got harder.
Deciding I needed a cold shower, I moved to grab the comforter to cover Waverly before I left, when something caused me to jerk my gaze to her.
Her eyes.
They were wide fucking open.
And they were set on me.
My heart lurched in my chest.
The hard-on didn’t ebb one bit, though.
I busied myself with the comforter, embarrassed and unsure what I’d say to her if she asked why I was cussing at my manhood. When I glanced up again, her eyes were closed, her body still and peaceful.
Had I imagined that?
No. No way. Her eyes were open. She was looking right fucking at me while I scolded Max’s dick. Was she faking being asleep now? Had she been faking the entire time? Fuck. Should I say something?
Quickly, I jerked the blanket over her and turned off the lamp on the nightstand. You’d think the near heart attack I felt like I was experiencing would have withered the erection right away, but no. Max’s junk was set to torture me.
Hustling out of the bedroom, I grabbed the baby monitor and darted for the guest bathroom, stripping my clothing as I traveled. Once I reached the bathroom, I set the faucet as cold as it would get and climbed in, forcing myself to stand under the arctic cold water as I shivered and cursed whatever force had put me in this body.
I let out a long slow breath. The one I’d been holding for what felt like an eternity. After Max practically sprinted out of the bedroom, I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling, trying not to let the panic render me frozen.
He knew I’d been faking being asleep.
Shit.
I hadn’t meant to open my eyes, but when he said ‘you motherfucker’ I couldn’t help it. After everything I’d heard, I should’ve been having a panic attack, but I knew I needed to keep my cool. I had to. Clearly, Max was not well, and I’m not talking about how odd it was when he’d scolded his crotch only moments before. That certainly didn’t help. I’m talking about . . . something else.
I knew I should have left. I knew it was wrong, but my curiosity got the best of me and maybe . . . just maybe . . . it was nice having the extra help. The truth was my ankle was better. Not a hundred percent better, but good enough I could make it around without crutches. I knew it that morning when I woke up.
But I didn’t tell Max that . . . or Helen.
I just kept pretending to need my crutches and let th
em take care of Pim and me. It was pretty low of me, but I was determined to find out what was going on with Max, and I wanted to know how he and Helen were affiliated. Maybe it wasn’t my business, but the more I got to know this ‘new’ Max and his ‘friend’ Helen, the more I needed to know. Maybe it was the masochist in me—a part of me that needed to feel tortured—but what I really wanted to know is . . . why?
Why was Max different now?
The most pathetic part of me wanted to know why couldn’t he have been different years ago? Why hadn’t I been enough to evoke this new and improved Max?
Shamefully, I had to also admit part of me wanted to stay because of the kiss. I didn’t like that I was letting myself become attracted to Max again, but the fact was it was happening. No matter how hard I fought it, or how tall I built and enforced the wall around me, it was there.
So I faked it, but in my effort to figure out what the hell was going on, I’d discovered more than I cared to and I was in over my head. I needed to call Matt. I needed my brother to bail me out, once again.
When Helen returned with Pimberly after getting her ready for bed, I wasn’t really passed out at the table. I don’t know why I pretended to be asleep—okay, that’s a lie. I do know. I wanted to see how they’d act when they thought I wasn’t listening. Everything I’d overheard had sounded like pure madness. Helen kept calling Max Liam, and Max kept referring to himself in the third person. And who in the hell was on life support? Why did he call Helen sis when she was leaving?
And suicide? Had Max really tried to commit suicide?
There were so many questions. None of it made any sense. The only conclusion I could come up with is they were both certifiable. Maybe I was, too. After all, I’d put myself and my daughter in the hands of two insane people.
Jerking my head up, I glanced at the nightstand. “Shit,” I whispered. I’d left my cell phone on the dining room table. Careful not to make a sound so as not to wake Pim, I climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the door. Max hadn’t shut it all the way in his haste, and I was able to peek out. The muted television was on, illuminating the living room, but there was no sign of him. I listened for a few moments then I realized the shower in the guest bathroom was on.
