by Jodie Becker
He settled back in his seat and kicked out his legs. He could feel her stare on him. Searching for answers he couldn’t give her.
“Max, are you all right?”
He glanced at her, her lashes spiked with tears giving him pause. She’d cried because of his pain. “Yeah.”
She nodded and clasped her hands in her lap. She looked worn out and he felt like a dick for letting her take him to the hospital. She shouldn’t be here, waiting in some sterile room for news about someone she didn’t know. He should’ve taken a cab. “I’m sorry for forcing you to take me.”
She blinked at him in surprise. “You didn’t force me, I offered. I couldn’t leave you to find your own way. Not now. Not like this.”
“Thanks for being here.”
“You’re welcome.”
They settled in silence, the wait stretching before them. As Bridget finished off her third cup of coffee an African-American doctor walked inside. “Maxwell Turner?”
Max lurched to his feet. “Yes.”
The doctor shoved his glasses into his pocket. “The toxicology report came back on Mr. Roland and we found methamphetamine and notably Warfarin in his system, which explains the brain bleed.”
“What?”
The doctor faced him with a sympathetic yet matter-of-fact gaze. “He is lucky to be alive. Warfarin is generally found in rat poison and can cause some major complications and even death.”
“So…he’s okay?”
The doctor hesitated a beat. “He slipped into a coma.”
The floor disappeared beneath him and his knees gave out. Arms wrapped around him and pulled him toward the seat. The roaring in his ears drowned out what the doctor was saying, but the wash of white that swept over Bridget’s face was enough. Dots exploded across his vision and nausea hit him in the gut. He sucked in acrid air and Bridget faced him, lines scrunching her brow, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles whitened.
Max fought against sharp fear. “What is it?”
Bridget pursed her lips and sucked in air through her nose. “He’s in intensive care. They said you can visit him, but not to expect anything.”
“Can you come with me?”
“All right.”
They followed the doctor to a room where Bryce lay in a bed, his head covered in a bandage and a tube in his mouth, a ventilator breathing for him. Machines beeped and cords trailed off him. His wan skin gave Max pause, features were so still for a moment he thought his friend was dead. Bridget’s hand tightened over his and he realized at some point he’d reached for her.
“It’s okay.”
He swallowed and stepped farther into the room. Settling in the chair beside the bed, he glanced at the doctor. “Can he hear me?”
The doctor smiled softly. “Can’t hurt. I’ll leave you to it.”
Helpless despair pushed against Max’s rib cage. He stared at the amount of cords coming off Bryce and the monitor that checked the heartbeat. His eyes stung with tears and he reached for his friend’s hand. It lay limp in his and Max dipped his head, misery pounding on his back, trying to get to the heart of him. A warm hand settled on his shoulder and he caught a waft of flowers. Bridget’s scent. He cleared his throat.
Squeezing Bryce’s hand, he stared into his friend’s still face. He looked so peaceful. But the tragedy of what put him here weighed on Max. “I’m sorry, man. I should’ve listened to you when you came over. I was a douche. I hope you can hear me, because you know, you’re my best friend.” He paused to cough out the croak in his voice. Rubbing the tip of his nose, he grappled for control. “You’re my best friend and if you left, who would I go with to San Fran to check out the wineries later on this year?”
He turned his head and cleared his throat, the coil of agony sitting on his chest threatened to unravel. His muscles hurt from the effort to keep his composure. “Fight this. Wake up.”
Bridget shifted closer, her hand gliding across his shoulder in comfort. Max dipped his head, his throat sore and his body bone tired. Bridget still rubbed his back, a constant in his time of misery. He slanted his head toward her and she smiled sadly.
“You ready to go?”
Max nodded and stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bryce. Don’t go anywhere,” he said, patting his friend on the shoulder.
They walked from the room, the surroundings nothing but a haze as he followed Bridget to her car. He settled in it and listened to the vehicle rumble to life. Hot air hit his too-cold skin. Staring at the bobbing dog head on the dashboard of her car, he watched it nod happily as Bridget drove them home. Hollowness filled his chest and desolation pulled at his lips. All he could see was Bryce in that bed. Sadly, Bryce didn’t have any family to speak of. There was no true next of kin for him and Max never bothered to ask why.
Before long they pulled up in Bridget’s driveway. He got out and stared at his house. Its dark windows reflected a menacing aura and a shiver ran down his spine. Fiddling with his keys he remained rooted on the spot. Unwilling to move, but knowing he had to go to bed.
Behind him, a door creaked open and he turned his head to find Bridget at her threshold.
“Thanks for tonight,” he said.
Bridget stood half in, half out of her home. “You probably shouldn’t be alone tonight. Did you want to come inside?”
Did he? It wasn’t a question. He shoved his keys into his pocket and followed her into the house. It was the first time he’d been invited and he stood at odds with himself as she disappeared into the small guest room beyond. The light flicked on, and he heard her moving stuff about. After a few minutes, she returned. “There’s a single bed in there for you.”
He glanced at the light slanting across the cream tiles. Four steps to his right and he’d be left alone with his thoughts. Fear iced down his spine. He didn’t relish the idea of lying in a bed, alone, with nothing but the “if onlys” keeping him awake. He moved left, toward Bridget. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather sleep with you. Just sleep, nothing else.”
She scanned his face, mulling over his words. “All right.”
Her soft acceptance made his knees weak and his shoulders slumped with relief. She stepped around him and he followed her upstairs into her room. Bridget threw aside a throw pillow and pulled one side of the sheet down. “Make yourself comfortable, I’m just going to get changed.”
She disappeared into the walk-in closet, the door clicking shut behind her. Max removed his clothes and hung them over the bed. In nothing but his boxer briefs, he slid under her sheets and inhaled the smell of fabric softener. The scent reminded him of home. The door opened, and he swallowed a sound of awe. Dressed in a satin nightgown that flowed over her curves, she was a picture of pure seduction.
Bridget flicked off the light. The mattress dipped as she settled under the sheets, the whisper of fabric teasing his ears. Lying on his back, he stared at the moon’s silver fingers spanning along the ceiling. He turned his head to find Bridget on her side with her back to him. Needing her touch to keep the demons at bay, he rolled toward her and curled his arm around her waist, drawing her into him. She stiffened as her ass nestled into his lap.
“Shh, I’m not going to do anything.”
Warmth burgeoned in his chest at the feel of her snuggled against him. It lacked the sexual edge he was used to. Bridget sighed softly and eased into his embrace. He inhaled the floral scent of her hair and kissed her on the back of the neck, silently thanking her for tonight. He settled deeper, listening to her breathing as she drifted to sleep. His heart hurt in an odd way and he realized he missed this. It’d been a long time since he’d been in bed with a woman and just slept. He forgot what it felt like.
* * * * *
Max entered Bryce’s room for the fourth day in a row. Flowers lined his friend’s bedside. Flowers from people in the industry. Not one from a friend or family member outside it.
“Hey, man, how’s it going?” Max asked as he settled in the chair.
The heart monitor beepe
d in response. Bryce remained in his vegetative state, quiet as though he slept. It still hurt his heart to see his friend hooked up on machines. He relied on a ventilator to keep him alive and he wasn’t even aware of anything around him. “You should really open your eyes, there’s this hot nurse that looks after you in the afternoon. She might be convinced to give you a sponge bath if you ask nicely.”
Max opened the bedside drawer and pulled out a deck of cards and a tray of pennies. “You ready to play some Texas Hold’em?”
The ventilator pumped air.
“Right. You think you can whup my ass this time? Yeah, yeah, talk is cheap.”
After a quick shuffle of the deck, he served them up.
“How much you wanna bet? A nickel? Big spender. All right, I’ll meet you.”
Max flipped three cards face up onto the table. He checked his two cards and clicked his tongue. One pair. “Okay, I’m gonna raise the pot. A dime. You in?”
The machine beeped.
“Right.” Max threw more money onto the table, then placed the final card. “Let’s see what you got.”
Max reached over and turned Bryce’s cards. “Son of a bitch. A full house. You have a real good poker face. There is nothing getting by you, huh?”
Max smiled, pretending Bryce quipped. “Yeah I get it. Double or nothing?”
“You think that’s going to do anything?”
Max jerked, his mood turning somber as he faced Vane. “What are you doing here?”
Vane held up a vase of flowers. “I’m here to pay my respects.”
“He’s in a coma, not dead.”
Lips pursed, Vane’s eyelids dropped to shield his thoughts. “Yes. Look, I’m just here to drop off these. I didn’t think you’d be here.”
Max tried to rein in his rage. It burned through his veins. “You have a lot of nerve to show up here.”
Vane stiffened, lines of anger marking his brow. “Why would you think that? I was his friend too.”
“Yeah, was.”
“You have some balls.”
“Just calling it how I see it.” Max snatched up the cards and shuffled them, the whisper of the cards filling the otherwise oppressive silence between them.
Vane stepped farther into the room and placed the flowers next to a wilting bunch of lilies. Hatred coiled in Max’s gut like a rattlesnake. It wanted to strike out and poison everything inside him.
“Bryce let me in on a little shoot you had planned for me.”
“I didn’t make him agree to anything he wasn’t open to. You think that this was something new to him?”
Max glared at Vane. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Vane fingered a dying flower. “You and Bryce were set to play alongside Demi.”
He tensed with rage and disgust. He knew the type of things Demi liked to do and they appealed to men who loved to submit. His stomach rebelled at the thought of doing a shoot with her. “You want to put us in the same room? To what purpose?”
“You’re reading too much into it. It’s part of the script. People want a change. Something fresh. That’s all it was. Just part of the job. There was no revenge plot.”
“It was something, because you wanted Bryce to know what was coming my way. You like that I have no say in what happens to me. You’re humbling me. I get it. Satisfied?”
Vane glowered. “No. I might’ve huffed a bit, but I didn’t do this with any motive except to get good reel.”
Max scoffed. “At what price?”
Vane glanced over at Bryce, something flashing in his eyes before they glazed over with cool indifference. “I didn’t want to talk to you about it here, but I need you back on set.”
“I’m not doing anything. I’m taking family time and seeing to Bryce.”
“He’s in a coma. He won’t know if you’re here or not.”
“I don’t give a fuck if he knows or not. I’m not doing shit for you. You’re just going to have to deal with it.”
Vane stepped closer, fists clenched at his side. “I gave you time to recover and say whatever you want to Bryce. With him out of action I have workloads that need to be shuffled about and you’re going to have to pick up some of the lag.”
Max stared at Vane, unable to comprehend the callous actions. “When did you become such a coldhearted bastard?”
Vane’s lips curled back. “Right around the time you wouldn’t fucking tell me where she is.”
She was Ruby. Max didn’t understand Vane’s obsession with finding her. She worked for Dungeon films for a while and was popular for her chameleon approach. Her hair changed color as often as her roles. Then one day she just disappeared. Last Max knew, she lived near Dylan, but that’d changed. Max occasionally got emails from her and sometimes he wrote back. No address details or telephone numbers were exchanged. Vane used to ask, but he’d stopped and Max thought he let it go. Clearly he hadn’t. “What is your damn obsession with her anyway? Plenty leave the industry and you just want her back.”
“My reasons have nothing to do with you.”
“Like hell they don’t. You ask me to bend over and take it for the God damned team and over this. I told you before and I’ll tell you again, I don’t know where she is. It’s clear she doesn’t want to be found or have anything to do with us. Her life as an adult actor is over.”
Vane’s eyes narrowed. “Two weeks. That’s it. And I want you back on set.”
Vane stalked from the room and Max threw the cards onto the table with a curse. Fucking prick. He rubbed a hand down his face, trying to wrangle in his anger. He glanced at Bryce and smiled wryly. “You’re right. He’s a dick.” He picked up the deck. “You ready for another round?”
Max played until a nurse came in to see to Bryce, and Max wished his friend goodbye, promising to see him tomorrow. On the drive home, his thoughts drifted to Bridget. He’d woken up in her bed that night and just stared at her. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful, it tugged at something in his chest. He’d brushed a lock of hair from her face, hooking it around her ear. Lust took a backseat to something a lot deeper and it scared him. He couldn’t get out of the bed fast enough. She’d woken up, looking deliciously mussed, confusion scrunching her face. He’d snatched up his clothes and hurried his ass out of there, ignoring the hurt in her eyes.
Max rubbed his forehead, his hands tightening over the wheel. He shouldn’t have acted as he did. He couldn’t give her any proper explanation for his behavior. Turning into his street, he pondered on apologizing and putting the brakes on their friendship. He feared the more time he spent with her put his heart in greater risk. He fucked people for a living and she wouldn’t be cool with that.
He slowed to pull into his driveway and everything went cold. Bridget stood outside with another man. He was so tall he dwarfed Bridget. His blond hair was slicked back, unlike Max’s shaggy locks. Everything about the guy spoke of confidence and money. Max steered his car into the garage and got out. He slanted a look at the two and jealousy stabbed him through the chest. They looked like a golden couple, her eyes shining with interest as she laughed at something the man said. His voice was smooth and he probably used it to get women to throw their panties off.
The guy was all class, with his tailored pants and crisp dress shirt. Max slid his hand along the top of his Lexus. He might have had money, but Max was a man from middle-class roots. He wasn’t conservative or soft-spoken. He liked his beer and a good laugh over a barbecue. That guy, with his pale skin, probably liked coffee at a café and polo.
The disdain in his thoughts stung, but not as much as Bridget’s next words. “My neighbor.”
Lips tight with bitterness, he trudged back to his house and threw himself on the lounge to stare moodily at the dead TV. Looked as if he might’ve gotten his wish. Bridget had a new guy in her life and he didn’t have to worry about the effect she’d have on his heart. Problem was, he still wanted her.
Chapter Nine
Bridget watched Max walk to his hous
e, his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world pressed on him. She’d been in the process of saying goodbye to Alex when Max drove in. She hadn’t seen him for a few days and it hurt her to see the bags under his eyes and the aura of misery he carried. Her attention on Max was enough to make her trail off.
Alex glanced over her shoulder, a blond brow tipped upward in question. “What’s up with him? Has a prank gone sour or something?”
Bridget dipped her head, swallowing her shame. “No. I’ve kind of decided to let that stuff go.”
Alex tipped his head. “Is there is something more going on here?”
“No, there isn’t,” she denied hotly.
Alex chuckled. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Bridget waved him off. “You didn’t come here to talk about my feelings—”
“Oh, so there’s feeling now?”
Bridget sighed. He wasn’t going to let this go until he got answers. “Yes. Sort of. We kind of slept together.”
Brows shot up. “You what?”
“It’s not like that. We slept. That’s all. It was really sweet.”
“When did this all happen? I thought you hated him.”
“He’s different from what I expected.”
“Enough to sleep with him,” he said, using finger quotes.
“We did just sleep. I got him home from the hospital and he didn’t want to be alone. So I let him sleep in bed with me. It was all very platonic.”
“There is a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”
“But, the next morning he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
Alex chuckled and Bridget glowered.
“It’s not funny,” she snapped.
Alex wrapped his arm around her shoulder and turned them back to her house. “You have a lot to learn about guys, Bridget. Guys never show weakness. He probably felt a little vulnerable. And that’s just not manly.”
