by Brandi Evans
Max remained still a few more breaths before taking another step forward, then another—I was confident they were steps this time. When he reached his mother's side, he traced trembling fingers along the top of her head.
"Mum." Pain saturated the word and broke my heart.
I rested my head against his shoulder, wishing more than anything I could take his pain upon myself.
Max rested his head against mine as he raked in a ragged breath. Then another. One more still. Oh, crap, I'd heard him do this at our bedside after my attack, when he thought I'd drifted to sleep.
He was trying to keep from crying.
"I need a moment alone with her," Max said with a voice so soft that I could scarcely make out the words.
"Of course," Karen said. "We'll be right outside."
She and Garrett moved toward the door as a single unit. I, on the other hand, didn't move from my lover's side. Instead, I pushed to the tips of my toes and placed a hand against his cheek.
"I love you, Max," I whispered. "Know that. And know I'm here for you. Whatever you need. I'm not going anywhere."
"I know, my sweet." There was that soft, broken voice I wished I could make go away. "And I love you. I will need you later, more than I've ever needed anyone, but right now, I need a moment alone with her to say goodbye."
"I'm here for you," I repeated before tapping my lips to his and leaving him alone.
Karen and Garrett waited for me outside, their expressions a mixture of pity and concern without ever showing too much of either. I went directly to them and was in Garrett's arms before my first tear fell. I burrowed into him, letting him hold me up, needing the quick respite after forcing myself to be strong for Max.
"He'll be okay," Garrett murmured.
"Will he, though?" I hadn't meant to say it, but since I had, I kept going, putting a voice to my fears. "I've never seen him like this."
"I have."
"When?"
Garrett pulled back and looked at me. His expression held a tenderness and an affection that shouldn't be possible given his bad-boy aura. "After your attack, Bree."
I searched the melted chocolate eyes I knew intimately, and I shook my head. "He felt guilty after my attack, but he wasn't—"
"Absolutely devastated?"
I nodded.
He cupped a hand over the back of my neck, a touch of affection I hadn't known I'd needed to keep me grounded until after he'd done it.
"He didn't let you see it," Garrett continued, "but I was there. He was utterly lost in his guilt. I honestly think we would have lost him, too, if he'd have lost you."
I shook my head, disbelief messing with my thoughts. I knew Max loved me, but to think my death could have cost him his life, too—no, that was too much to fathom.
"You mean the world to him," Karen said, touching my cheek. "You have to know that."
I was still shaking my head. The intensity of the emotions I felt for Max scared me. He could slay me at the most unexpected times. Some days, most days if I were honest, I just didn't think what he felt for me could possibly be in the same category as what I felt for him. It was one of the things a girl risked when flying so close to the sun.
"I know he loves me," I said. "I do. I mean, he told me he does, and I believe him. I've never been with anyone who looks at me the way Max does, but then sometimes, I wonder if he loves me the way I love him and—"
"Oh, love." Garrett rested his forehead against mine. "He loves you more than you can comprehend. Trust me on that. I've known that man a long time, and I've never once seen him look at a woman the way he does you."
I wanted to believe him, but… "Then why does he still keep so much of himself secret from me?"
Garrett steadied his gaze on mine. "He loves you completely. More than that, he trusts you. It's just… the things he's still hiding from you aren't just his secrets. They're ours. Mine and his from a long, long time ago. They're Karen's, too, because we trusted her with them, and soon, they'll be your secrets. That is if you're willing to keep them safe."
Keep them safe?
I didn't like the sound of that.
There're things in my past. Things no one save Garrett and Karen know. Bad things. Things, I'm afraid, will color the way you see me forever. It's the only thing that scares me more than losing you.
He'd said those words to me hours before Théo had attacked me. I'd drawn a line in the sand—no more secrets or we didn't have a future, but I'd given him the freedom to tell me his secrets as he was ready. My only caveat had been that he couldn't draw it out. Slowly at first, a little detail here, a small detail there, Max had begun painting the particulars of the past that had shaped him. He hadn't divulged everything. He most certainly hadn't told me this—whatever this was.
I glanced at Karen, but she was unreadable.
I turned back to her husband. "You're scaring me. What secret?"
Garrett took my face in his big hands. "A secret so guarded that knowing it would give you the power to destroy us."
His gaze, as well as his words, pinned me to the spot, and I was scared. I didn't fear Garrett; I feared their secret. The heaviness of it sat in my gut like wet sand. What secret would be so big that I'd have the power to destroy them?
"If you're ready to know his secret, Bree, he's ready to tell you. He's asked for my blessing to tell you, and I've said yes. But you have to promise you'll keep our secret safe."
"I'd never do anything to hurt Max," I said quickly. "You two, either."
"I know. That's why I gave Max my blessing. Our lives will soon be in your hands, Breanne Jennings." Garrett pulled me into a fierce embrace. "Our lives into your hands."
Chapter 3
Our arrival at Karen and Garrett's seaside home was less of a spectacle than when we'd pulled up to the funeral home. The only "spectacle" here was the home itself. To say I loved the place was an understatement.
I stepped from the SUV and marveled at the two-story home. The old manor house somehow felt ancient and new at the same time. It had a rock façade decorated by flowerbeds that were cared for but not too cared for, as if someone had taken a chunk of a wildflower field and placed it here. In fact, the pink, red and purple buds looked similar to the ones I'd seen scattered along the nearby fields as we'd driven from the funeral home, so maybe someone had.
Karen was an artist, but I wasn't sure how much her art added to her and Garrett's incomes. Max had told me she was talented, but that she painted out of a need to burn away her passions. I wasn't sure what that meant in the way of making a living, though.
Garrett, on the other hand, was a sought-after fashion designer. He'd created some of the most beautiful bedroom wear I'd ever seen—or worn. Red Light Lingerie carried his exclusive line of lingerie called Risqué; they were among our top sellers. In fact, I'd been modeling one of his designs the night he, Max, and I first became lovers.
So, yeah, I'd known the pair was well off, but this place would cost a small fortune in Dallas. Then again, maybe the cost of living wasn't so high in Alum Bay. I didn't have the first clue about real estate markets in another country.
I cast a sideways glance at Max as he stepped around the vehicle and reached for me. "This isn't a seaside cottage," I said.
"Excuse me?"
"A cottage. You told me Karen and Garrett had a seaside cottage, and this isn't a cottage. This is huge!"
He looked at the house as if seeing it for the first time. "It's considerably smaller than our home."
Our home. God, would I ever get used to hearing that?
And okay, he had me there. Our home in Dallas was larger. "This still isn't a cabin," I continued to argue as he took my hand, kissed it and led me up the walk toward the house.
Karen and Garrett had driven ahead of us and parked in their garage. They were already inside and had the front door open. When Max and I had joined them, the four of us embraced again. Much to my pleasure, this wasn't the same chaste embrace we'd shared at the mortuary.
We stood in the same basic configuration, yes, but one of Garrett's hands was already sliding down my back to my ass.
I trembled at his touch, sensations dancing through me like the buzz of an aged whiskey. Instinctively, I turned my head toward the other man in my life, and without a word, he captured my mouth in a hard, thorough kiss that had the ligaments in my knees going lax.
God, I'd missed this, missed him, missed her.
Garrett's tongue slid along mine in a possessive cadence. I swore, if he shoved a hand beneath my skirt and touched my sex, I'd implode and I wanted that. Desperately.
By the time Garrett pulled back, he was breathing nearly as hard as I. "About time I was able to give you a proper hello, love," he said.
"Hello there, yourself," I murmured before turning to Karen and smiling. "Hello to both of you."
"Hello, yourself, darling." She drew her thumb over my bottom lip, my mouth still slightly damp from her husband's kisses. "We've missed you both terribly."
"The feeling's mutual," I returned.
I was about to elaborate on just how mutual when Max spoke. "It smells wonderful in here. Are you cooking what I hope you're cooking?"
She nodded, her rose-painted lips curling into a smile. "I'm absolutely making beef stew and suet dumplings." She turned her gorgeous smile on me. "They're Max's favorite. I thought they'd be the perfect comfort food."
Max stroked her cheek, drawing her attention back to him. "Thank you, my dear."
"It was no trouble at all," she said. "I've had the main bulk in the slow cooker since this morning. All that's left to do is add the dumplings I've already pre-made."
"But we don't have to rush off to dinner quite yet, do we?" I asked. "I've missed you both terribly."
I could tell by the way Garrett turned into me, he'd caught my meaning. Then, Karen grinned, and I knew she had, too. I wanted to kiss Garrett again and let the moment lead the four of us wherever it would lead, not just for my satisfaction but for Max's.
Since we'd been together, I'd discovered the antidote to Max's struggle against the darkness inside him: sex. The hard, brutal kind that had me surrendering completely to my Dom. No, surrendering to the man I loved, who also happened to be my Dom.
"Actually," Max said, his hand dropping to my flank, where I still bore the scars from my attack. "I'm starved. I'm sure Bree is, too. Food and rest, that's what we need."
The three of us turned to him. Luckily, no one seemed to openly gape at him.
No. No way he was tired. I knew that in my bones. Even on his deathbed, Max wouldn't say no to sex.
The only explanation I could come up with was he thought I was too fragile. He'd touched my scar, hadn't he? This was another example of how much our sex life—our relationship—had changed since my attack, how much his view of me had changed. Of course, in his defense, I hadn't exactly been at my best since the attack, but to "protect" me from Karen and Garrett? We'd have words about this, but not here. Not today. Too much was happening already. I wouldn't add anything else to his worry plate.
I pressed a kiss to Max's cheek and plastered on a smile, reassuring him I was okay while simultaneously offering him support. "I'll help Karen finish dinner. You and Garrett go relax. You've had a tough day, my love."
He touched my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb so softly that I wondered if I imagined it. The action made me feel cherished, and my mind drifted back to what Karen had told me at the funeral home.
You mean the world to him. You have to know that.
Karen spoke up. "Yes. Bree and I will get dinner finished while you two go find us the perfect bottle of wine to pair with the meal."
"You got it, my heart," Garrett said. "I know just the bottle."
Garrett pressed a kiss to his wife's cheek, stepped from our joined embrace and headed toward the hallway to my left. Max, however, didn't follow, didn't release me. Just the opposite, he tightened both arms around me in a crushing hug.
He buried his face against the side of my neck. "I love you," he whispered so quietly that I scarcely heard him.
"I love you, too," I returned automatically, a wiggling feeling in my gut telegraphing something was wrong. I wanted to pull back and look at him, to glean what I could from his baby blues, but he held me too firmly. He held me the way I held him during a panic attack, like he was the only thing in the world keeping me sane. "Max?"
When he pulled back, he wore a smile. He tapped his lips to the tip of my nose and then turned in the direction Garrett had disappeared and was gone. My heart, however, still pounded.
Something wasn't right. Yes, he'd just lost his mom, but that embrace, those whispered words, they were, were—
I had no clue, but something was indeed wrong. I couldn't shake the feeling even as Karen leaned close and whispered, "Maxwell Penn saying no to sex. I never thought I'd see the day."
"There's something seriously bothering him," I said. "Did he say anything to you at the funeral home?"
He'd been in the room with his mom a long time, and when he'd finally returned, I'd been in the restroom. I'd nearly barreled him over when I'd walked out the door.
Her left eyebrow drew up. "Not really. He just looked panicked a moment and asked where you were."
"Panicked?"
"He's emotional right now, and he loves you dearly," she said as if it explained everything, and maybe it did. My emotions were running high, too. Dinner and wine with good friends, yes, I'd feel better after that.
I ogled the house's interior as I followed Karen toward the kitchen. Spacious and earthy, their home reminded me a lot of Max's decorating style. This one didn't have the overtly outdoors-indoors feel of his—our—house, but with the large windows and drapes thrown open, the seaside beauty naturally made its way in.
As we walked, I also confided in Karen. I explained about the panic attacks, the PTSD, the nightmares—everything—and by the time she dropped the last of the pre-made dumpling dough in the slow cooker, I'd laid everything bare.
"I didn't realize you were having so much trouble," she began, wiping freshly washed hands on a dishtowel. "I wish you would have told me. I'm not sure what I could have done, but I would have done something."
"I know you would have, but I hated that I couldn't break myself out of the cycle of panic. Sometimes, I break the cycle fairly easily, but other times, not so much. And then, the worse I do trying to control my emotions, the worse I feel about not being able to control them. And the worse I control my emotions, the harder I try the next time, and it fucking exhausts me."
"I can imagine."
"And when I'm that emotionally exhausted, that's when the full-blown panic attacks hit, and the cycle begins all over again. My therapist says it'll get better, but I'm terrified I'll be like this the rest of my life, anxiety always simmering beneath the surface, knowing it could turn into a raging boil at any moment."
"That's nothing to be upset about, Bree. You're human. You're having a very human reaction to a near-fatal event. The fact you've been able to keep it together, to fly halfway around the world and be strong for Max in a time of need says everything."
"I don't feel strong, and it doesn't help matters I'm constantly worried Max is gonna get tired of me and—"
"That will never, ever, happen, darling." She draped an arm over my shoulder. "There are two things I know about you with absolute certainty. One, you're immensely brave. You took down a madman with a knife!"
"Letter opener," I corrected.
"It had a stabby end, so close enough. And two, it's that Maxwell Penn loves you more than life itself."
After dinner and a more detailed tour of Karen and Garrett's home, Max and I retreated to the patio daybed. The seaside air had the slightest nip to it, but with the blanket and Max's arms around me, I was pleasantly comfortable.
Scattered about the property, Max's security team had blended into the scenery, patrolling and keeping us safe. They'd chased off a few reporters looking for a quick photo, but other th
an that, things were blissfully quiet and peaceful. Well, as calm as things could be given the circumstances.
Not for the first time, the security team amazed me; except for when we needed them, I never saw them. The only exception was Scott; he was always within shouting distance if Max or I needed him. Everyone blended in and disappeared, which was probably the idea. Otherwise, they'd likely feel more like prison wardens than bodyguards.
We'd arranged the daybed so we weren't lying flat. The position left me with a breathtaking view of the ocean and the sun as it hovered above the waterline. The house sat a hundred yards or so from the beach. If I could have found it in myself to leave Max's side, I would have waded into the surf. The waves were probably still warm from the lingering heat of a long, hot summer.
Over dinner, I'd enjoyed the stew as much as the company. We'd eaten in the dining room off the porch. No, not the dining room, the entertaining room, at least that was what Karen had said. There was a table for eating, so I was still unsure of the difference. With the sliding glass door thrown open and the salty sea breeze filtering through the space, however, I'd discovered I also didn't care.
We'd chatted about nothing in particular, a little meaningless banter meant to lighten the mood—only it hadn't helped Max from his funk. At this point, I was beginning to think nothing short of time would do that, hopefully, anyway. As the hours ticked by, he retreated deeper and deeper into himself, which made me all the more desperate to keep him with me in the here and now.
What can I do to help you, my love?
I knew he needed me. Except for the times he asked to be alone with his mom and when Karen and I had been finishing dinner, he'd stayed glued to my side, some part of our bodies always touching. I couldn't help but wonder if the constant contact was because I was his touchstone or because he thought he was mine.
I hated that he saw me as this fragile thing that might break at any moment; I hated it almost as much as I hated the fact he might be right. Even now, a panic attack lurked like a prowler inside me. Holding myself together took every ounce of strength I had, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold on.
