by K. A Knight
“That was on purpose,” I mutter, and Keanu digs his finger into my bullet wound, making me hiss.
“Manners, Max, I’m Keanu, beautiful. You’re Scarlett, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.” He grins, his green eyes flashing at her in amusement. His blond hair is pushed back, he’s dressed in a suit, and he looks immaculate, as always. I constantly imagine a monster hiding underneath. No one is that perfect...that calm. There are reasons why people call him Spider, after all.
“You have?” she inquires, looking at me in confusion. “Do you work with Max?” she questions thoughtfully. Oh, my little angel is digging for information.
He looks up at me and I shake my head ever so slightly and he sighs. “In a way,” he tells her.
“What does that mean?” she snaps, done playing nice.
“Baby—” I try and hiss out a breath as he prods at my wound. “I’ll tell you later, okay?” I plead.
“Will you?” she demands, looking at me with hard eyes. “Because I don’t think you will.”
Then she turns away, playing with the mug in her grasp, and ignores us as he dresses my injury. I watch her the whole time, trying to think of a way to apologise. Though I’m not sure what for.
“Done, you won’t lose the leg. Scarlett, may I look at yours?” he requests kindly, much more kindly than he asked me.
“Are you a doctor?” she asks, then looks up. “Why aren’t there any police here?”
He cocks his head at her. “Do you want there to be?” he counters. Good, because I can’t think of anything to say to explain this to her or make this better.
“No, I guess not. But people died, they’re dead! There should be police and ambulances and...” She trails off, tears gathering in her eyes.
“Baby, look at me,” I order, and she does, letting Keanu start to fix her up as she concentrates on me. “I promised you I would look after you and I will. I need you to trust me. If the police came, they would never let this lie, they would arrest me and you for manslaughter and frame us simply to get the case shut, especially with how rich Randy’s father is. These people are here to help, they will make sure the police never come after me or you, and that the deaths are dealt with.”
“But—” She shakes her head, hissing when he prods her ribs. “Randy’s dad and Reggie’s mum—”
“Will be told it was a horrible accident, do you think his dad would leave it alone? He would never stop hunting us if he knew the truth, baby. This is for the best.”
“And my mum?” she asks.
“I’m sorry, Scarlett, she died before they could get to her. Jeff is dead too,” I tell her.
“I have no one,” she whispers, looking away into thin air and I struggle off my chair, ignoring Keanu’s protests, and grasp her cool hand.
“Not true, you have me, you always have me,” I declare, and she looks at me. “I know this is hard and you have questions, but I need to deal with this, okay? Stay strong for now and I’ll answer everything later, I promise. Let this prick look at your wounds and by then I’ll be back.”
She nods, the movement jerky, her eyes lost and filled with ghosts. It shatters my heart so, swallowing hard, I lean forward and drop a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be right over there, baby, just shout if you need me. You’re doing so well,” I praise her, before forcing myself to my feet and moving to the waiting clean-up crew.
As I discuss the plan with them, I dart glances at her. She looks so small, so fragile and lost as Keanu treats her. I know she’s scared and confused, I don’t blame her—what must this look like to her? I’m going to have to tell her everything, I can’t keep her in the dark anymore. I just hope she can wait until everyone leaves so we can sit down and talk. She needs to rest too, shock and all those injuries will leave her exhausted, and she needs that rest to heal.
She’s asleep, curled up with Milo on the chair when I come back in, and I look at Keanu who’s typing as quietly as he can on the laptop on the floor. When he spots me, he closes it and nods. “She will be okay, but she needs to rest. Her arm is set well and her ribs are cracked, not broken, but her leg might be infected, so I gave her an IV antibiotic, and she will have to carry on an oral course and have it dressed every day. Keep an eye out for signs of infection. Mentally, I don’t know, Max, she’s strong, but this would be hard for a soldier, never mind a civie. She might need to talk to someone,” he finishes, and I nod.
He stands up, walks towards me, and lays his hand on my shoulder. “I would have never got shot, but I guess you did okay,” he jokes, and I roll my eyes. “She’s a fighter, Max, she will be alright,” he reassures me, and then walks away, calling over his shoulder, “And when she gets bored with you, give her my number, will you?” Then he laughs, making me growl.
“Asshole,” I mutter with no real heat. I’m going to owe him big after tonight.
I lock up the house and sweep it for anything left behind. All the bodies have been moved and the house is cleaner than before, there isn’t even a trace of blood. The sun is starting to rise, the clean-up taking hours longer than I expected. Scooping her up as softly as I can, I nod at the steps to Milo and he trots upstairs, waiting at the top.
I carry her up the stairs, trying to soften my footfalls and not jar her, but her eyes flicker open, still half dazed and asleep. “I don’t know you, do I?” she slurs, her eyes already closing again.
“You know me better than anyone, baby,” I whisper, but she’s already asleep.
Swallowing hard at the lump in my throat, at the pain in her voice, I set her on my bed, covering her with the sheets as I strip and get in next to her, with Milo curling up at the bottom of the bed.
I’m tired. The painkillers for my leg are kicking in, mixing with the fatigue from the blood loss, but I can’t sleep, not now. I need to watch over her, make sure she’s okay, memorise her face, and trace the soft white plains of her features as she sleeps. I can’t fault her questions, but it sends terror through me, more so than even facing down those men tonight.
I’m so scared that when she finds out the truth, she will leave me, or worse, hate me. I couldn’t bear that, so, in the early morning light, with the sun breaking through the curtains and haloing around her body in my bed, I force myself to memorise every little detail from the freckle above her lip to the way her hair falls as she sleeps...knowing this might be the last time I have her this close.
Chapter Thirty
Scarlett
Gunshots echo through my head, along with terror-inducing sounds of screams, and I jerk awake, fighting the restraining hands of my nightmares pinning my body to something soft, my heart slamming against my already abused ribs and my stomach rebelling at the sudden movement.
“Shh, baby, you’re okay, it was just a dream. You’re safe, open your eyes and look at me, see where you are?” Max’s whiskey voice demands, and I do as I’m told, my eyes opening and focusing on his face hovering above me. Swallowing back the bile, my heart starts to slow when I realise I’m in his bed, and it’s his body pinning me down slightly, holding me still as I fought in my dreams.
“That’s it, good girl, it’s just me. You’re safe, it was just a dream,” he murmurs softly, but his voice doesn’t reassure me as much as it should. Instead, confusion fills my head, my heart stuttering for a moment before resuming its beat as I let my gaze flicker over his features.
Still the same, beautiful, rugged face.
The same eyes, the same nose, the same lips, which I’ve kissed. Yet he feels…different. Secrets hover between us. A chasm of unasked questions.
Randy’s words ring in my head…
How well do I know Max?
It breaks my heart to even feel those doubts inside of me, but after tonight, I would be a fool to blindly trust anyone. It’s clear I can’t count on my own judgement, after all, I thought I loved Reggie and he killed my mum and tried to murder me.
Even as I think that, a cold sort of detachment blankets over me. Is it from the drugs pumpi
ng through my system? Or shock? Who knows, but it’s probably for the best, since I’m not ready to deal with what happened last night.
He must see the confusion and questions in my gaze, because he sighs and flops back to his side next to me, and I turn to face him. Sun streams in through the curtains and Milo’s snores echo around the room.
I trace his face, unable to open my mouth in case all that’s jamming my head pours out. I need to work my way through my own thoughts first before I start asking for his.
The sun shines brighter, almost blinding me, and I wince. He notices, like always, and slips from the bed, causing a draft of cool air to hit my skin when he lifts the covers and pads over to the window. He shuts the blinds, sending the room into darkness, the blinds and curtains blocking all traces of the sun and sending us back into black.
It seems fitting.
My thoughts are dark like the room, my mind always curling back to one question—who is Maximus Hunt?
He gets back into bed, bringing his warmth and protection like always, but it feels hollow, or maybe that’s just me. He traces my face with his eyes, purposely leaving a gap between us on the bed, echoing loudly in the silence.
His eyes tell me all his fears and ask me not to make them true, like giving them words, letting them flow from my mouth, would make this real. Because we both feel it, that we’re balancing on a precipice, ready to tumble over the edge, and this time I don’t think he’ll be there to catch me. I don’t think he can even catch himself. His cushions of lies, half-truths, and secrets shatter around us like a cyclone.
Our love was a storm—fast, strong, and so consuming. It makes sense the end would be the quiet after. Once the wind has left and the rain has finished lashing our flesh, it goes quiet, a rainbow peeking through and giving light to everything the storm hid.
Is this our rainbow?
“What are you thinking?” he whispers into the dark. His arms slide around me, but my mind is miles away.
What am I thinking?
“That I don’t know you,” I murmur.
“Scarlett—” He starts, but I interrupt him.
“I feel like we have been in a dream, a fantasy, where I built you into this man, filling the cracks with my own imitations. But it’s not true and now I’m left with the empty cracks, and all I keep thinking is what else is hiding behind them? When he fractures…what’s inside? I don’t know you, Max, only part of you. The part you let me get close to. The good stuff, never the bad, I want the bad. I want the beautiful, I want the ugly and the painful, that’s what makes something real. I’m thinking I don’t know you at all, so how can I love you? Maybe I’ll feel differently tomorrow, but what I’m thinking is maybe...maybe we were right to go our own ways.”
His eyes close down, his face goes slack, and pain shatters the man before me, the same pain in my heart. My dad once told me if it hurt, it isn’t the right decision. This hurts more than my father leaving, more than my mother’s lack of love and her conveyor belt of men who hurt me. This hurts so much, my whole body is filling with it, an invisible agony that no one can take away…but is it wrong?
I don’t know, but I do know that right now, in this moment, in the dark, with this space between us—it isn’t right.
“I can’t help but thank you for saving my life and I don’t judge you. I’m not disgusted by what you can do, the opposite. What hurts is that you hid it from me. I feel like I’ve always had to have this act, this facade with everyone, but with you that wasn’t the case.
“So what I’m thinking, Max, is that when the dust settles and the sun rises, I need to walk away. I need to walk away before you break my heart, because how could you let me love you if you don’t love yourself?
“I love you, Max, the Max I’ve met. I think my heart will always belong to you, but sometimes people need to grow apart. Grow into themselves like a flower, and once the buds start to rise and our leaves grow and the petals merge once again, healed and better than ever, maybe then we could be together. Once the rain has passed and the winds have calmed, we can grow again. I hope you learn to love yourself, Max, because there is a lot to be loved.
“Sometimes, the timing isn’t right, and Max, it isn’t right for us. I can feel it, there will be a time and a place. Some people are meant to be together, some are meant to be learned from. To love so fully and wholly that when it’s gone, you have to relearn how to love. I think that will be us.”
I close my mouth, having nothing left to say, and in the aftermath of my very own hurricane of words, I watch the truth settle between us and I know it was right. It hurts, but it should hurt, losing love and walking away shouldn’t be easy, it should echo through me, leaving behind its ghosts, otherwise how did I know it was real?
Tears fill his eyes with each of my words, slowly dripping down his face, and I feel mine doing the same. In this moment, I broke both of our hearts. His eyes beg me not to leave him, not to make this real, but he doesn’t speak those pleas out loud. He knows I’ve made up my mind, and Max always wants me to be happy, to be free and protected. It’s one of the reasons I love him, and it’s the reason I know he will let me go now. To protect me, to let me be me…to find happiness, even if it’s without him.
“Then tonight let me hold you, please, baby, and tomorrow I’ll let you go. You were never meant to be tamed, Scarlett. Merely loved in the time we have you. So I’ll let you go, but know my heart goes with you.”
What do I say to that?
Nothing. Instead, I nod and he scoops me into his arms, wrapping them tightly around me, like if he holds me close I won’t slip through the cracks, like he’ll never let me go. His face burrows in my hair as I bury mine in his chest, my nails digging into the skin on his torso, holding him to me as the same panic hits me.
I don’t know how to live without Max. For the past couple of years, he’s been my constant, and now faced with a life without him, I’m scared.
Tears hit my head, dampening my hair as his body shakes against me. I don’t offer any words—what could I say that would help? He doesn’t say anything either, just holds me close, his arms protecting me. Finding solace in his touch, I take in the comfort, even now when I shouldn’t.
I feel my heart shatter and crumble like the petals of a flower falling from a dying plant. I watch it float to the ground where it withers and dies. My chest is empty and cold until suddenly a beat sounds, Max’s heart.
He said I had it forever…is this what he meant?
Because where my broken heart was, his replaces it, pumping for me. Keeping me alive and going, protecting me, and saving me even from myself.
Max…
I love you.
The time to leave comes too soon. For hours we just held each other, but I can’t stay for much longer or I’ll never leave.
“Max,” I whisper.
“No, five more minutes,” he begs, his voice rough and broken.
“I can’t,” I admit, and pull away. His arms reluctantly fall to his sides as his red, bloodshot eyes focus on my determined face. “I need to find somewhere to live, I can’t go back there, I have so much to do. I need to go.”
He nods before turning over and getting to the edge of the bed. Sitting with his back to me, he confesses, “You have somewhere to go,” his voice choked.
“I can’t stay here,” I reply, wincing at how harsh it sounds.
“Not here,” he clarifies, and gets to his feet, wiping his face as he goes to his drawer and takes out an envelope before passing it over to me. He doesn’t climb back on the bed, instead, he moves away from me as I sit up and open the plain, white, coarse envelope.
A key falls out, as does paper. I open it, scanning the words printed in black, and a frown tugs at my lips as I look at him. “What is this?”
“Your freedom. I’ve been planning it for a while. I know you wanted to move out. It’s the best in the area, safe, with top notch security. I paid the first year. Take it, Scarlett, it’s your fresh start.”
“Max, I can’t,” I whisper, tears clogging my throat once again.
“You can and you will. This is how I let you go, by knowing you’re safe. That it’s your space, Scarlett, all yours. Please take it.”
I say nothing and he steps closer before hesitating and stopping. “It’s all in your name and ready to move into, decorate it however you want. I’ll have boxes sent next door and a truck to help you move so you don’t have to let me help.”
What he’s offering me is a lifeline, an escape…even from him.
“Thank you,” is all I can say.
With nothing else to do, feeling like a dirty, one-night stand, I clamber from the bed, wincing in pain as it pulls at my ankle, ribs, and everywhere else that feels bruised. I’m still dressed, and I didn’t leave anything here, so I can leave, yet my eyes seek his.
“It isn’t goodbye forever, Max, just for now,” I state, either for himself or myself, I’m not sure.
Milo wakes up then, sensing the tension, and pads over to me. His head hangs low and his tail is between his legs. Crouching down, ignoring the pain it causes, I bury my face in his fur.
“Bye, baby, I’m going to miss you and our cuddles. Look after your daddy for me, won’t you?” I whisper softly, before pulling back and kissing his wet nose.
Standing up, I grab the key and paper and hold it to my chest, both of us just staring at each other. “Ring me if you need anything,” he offers, but I sense it’s not what he really wants to say, and when he tugs on his beard, I know I’m right.
I nod, stepping back slightly, and he goes to bury his hands in his jeans to stop himself from touching me. With nothing left to do, and feeling if I stay I might never leave, I turn, his eyes watching me the whole way as I flee downstairs, unlock the front door, and break into the cool outside air.
Once there, I suck in a deep breath and force my feet to carry me down his drive. The scene is so different from last night. Halfway down, I feel eyes on me, and I stop, looking back up at his bedroom window to see him framed there…just like old times.
