Becoming His (36 page)

“Is Kendall in there?”

“Ace?” I hear her voice filled with panic. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“I just need my keys.”

“I’ll come with you,” she says, throwing back the covers.

“No, stay. I need to think,” I reply, mostly to myself. Kendall nods, looking reluctant, and I move my focus to her hands as she fishes through her purse.

I tightly grip the keys as she gives them to me and turn back to the door where Jameson stands, looking completely dumbfounded. I make a wide berth around him and Max and head straight for the front door.

Another door opens behind me, and I hear Landon ask if everything’s okay. Tears pool in my eyes as I run the last few steps out of the house, barefoot. The fact that Max doesn’t follow me past Jameson’s bedroom door answers my fear. This was a mistake. We were a mistake.

The anger that had kept the tears at bay while inside the house quickly recedes to pain as the countdown continues to fall and tears stream down my face. Traces of dark eye makeup cover my fingers and the back of my hands as I swipe at the relentless tears.

I don’t even think. My brain is on autopilot, needing comfort and security. I’m already on the freeway, heading toward the only destination that can meet those needs. Home.

I
silently make my way into the house and disarm the alarm, but Zeus isn’t about to let me go unnoticed. He lumbers down the stairs, barking before he even sees me. My voice is thick with tears as I call to him, trying to calm him down.

Dad flips on the lights, following closely behind Zeus, wearing his robe over a San Diego State T-shirt and matching sweatpants. When he sees me his concern is evident and my countdown hits zero. He wraps me in his arms and my shoulders heave as I grip his robe with both hands to keep myself upright. I bury my face in the soft polyester and feel him take my weight.

“David, what’s going on?” Mom asks, coming down the stairs. Neither of us responds as she rushes over and soothingly rubs my back.

“Ace, what happened, sweetheart? Did someone hurt you? Are you okay?”

I sniff and nod, not able to formulate words yet. Each time I try to speak, the words seem to get caught in my throat and I just cry harder.

After about twenty minutes of my mom bustling about, offering different remedies and trying to coax me to speak to her, Dad convinces her to go back to bed.

He holds me, allowing me to cry until my head throbs and my eyes burn. I feel exhausted, both physically and emotionally, as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest, shielding me as he leads me into the kitchen.

He reaches into the cabinet above the fridge and extracts an amber bottle and pours two fingers in a glass tumbler before retrieving a bottle of ibuprofen. Three pills fall into my palm and he hands me the glass. I don’t hesitate, swallowing it all in one toss and wincing at the burn of bourbon.

He fills my now empty cup up with water, and we wordlessly trudge up the stairs.

“Il sera bien ma belle fille,” Dad says quietly when we reach the top of the stairs. I want to acknowledge his words that everything will be okay, but I don’t. I can’t.

“Do you want me to stay with you? Or you can lie with mom?” I shake my head, needing some space. “Je t’aime mon, Ace,” he says quietly.

“I love you too, Dad,” I whisper. He hugs me close, placing a kiss in my hair before he watches me turn into my room.

I gather some clean pajamas and head to the bathroom where I turn the shower on and wait for it to get hot enough that the steam billows out. I strip out of my clothes, noticing a small trace of blood on my underwear, and kick them aside, making a new rivulet of tears to fall. I step in the tub, letting the hot water flow over me, joining my tears as I begin washing Max from my body.

T
he next day I wake up with a dull headache that feels worse than any hangover and find Zeus lying in front of my bed protectively and my mom holding a tray filled with food.

“Daddy thought some chocolate chip pancakes might sound good. I thought maybe some ice cream would be preferable,” she says with a weak smile, running a hand over my hair. I take in the stack of chocolate chip pancakes, cold and without syrup—the way I prefer them—along with a container of Ben and Jerry’s and a steaming cup of coffee. None of it appeals to me, but I rip off a small piece of pancake and swallow it to placate her.

“Max came by this morning. He said that there was a misunderstanding.” My heart races at the mention of his name, filling with hope until I recall he was already planning on coming home this weekend to get his motorcycle and is likely trying to clear the air between us since our mothers are best friends, and my sister is dating his best friend.

I shake my head and take a sip of coffee.

“You know, sometimes you have to listen to your heart and block out this,” my mom says, gently tapping my temple with a pink, perfectly manicured finger.

“I have to go to a meeting, but I’ll be back later this afternoon. If you need anything call me, sweetheart.” I nod and gently set the tray on the floor as she leaves.

I lay my head back down and close my eyes which feel weighted.

R
aised voices echo from downstairs, waking me. I sit up to see Zeus stand from his spot beside my bed. His nails click on the stairs as he goes to investigate, and I strain my ears to listen.

“Dad, he needs to talk to her.” Kendall’s agitated voice is easy to make out.

“I don’t know what’s going on right now; but I do know that she came home in the middle of the night and …” He stops and I know he’s protecting my outburst from last night and feel eternally grateful. He starts again in a calmer voice. “I’ve never seen her like that, Kendall. If he’s the reason she’s hurting I don’t even want him in my house.”

“I know how this looks, and I’m pretty sure
I am
the reason she’s upset, but I need to fix it. She took something I said out of context, and I really need to see her. Please. If she tells me to go I’ll leave.”

My eyes grow from shock at hearing Max’s voice and anxiously wait for my dad’s response. I want to see Max, but I also dread the prospect.

My head falls to my pillows, my hair splaying as I internally fight with myself and the eternal war of heart versus head as I smother myself with another pillow so I can’t hear any more of their conversation.

W
hen I wake up again my room is dark from the night. I blink a few times trying to rid the scratchiness from my eyes and turn over to see what time it is. A solid object covers my feet, and I expect to see Zeus. A gasp fills the silence as I jump, realizing it’s a person. I scramble backwards, nearly falling off the side of my bed, before realizing that it’s Max.

My legs instinctively fold against my chest. Although I’m fully dressed, I feel extremely vulnerable and exposed. My poor heart begins racing again as I feel the adrenaline course through my veins, my palms prickling with sweat as I wrap them around my legs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Max says quietly, holding his hands out to me like I’m a wild animal, unsure of whether I’ll attack or run.

“What are you doing here, Max?” I try to sounds defensive, but my voice comes out strained.

“You left your phone, and your dad wouldn’t let me talk to you.”

I shake my head. “What are you doing here?” I repeat.

“Ace, last night was a mistake.”

“Yeah, I understood that message loud and clear,” I state coldly as my chest begins to ache and the familiar burn of tears returns.

“No, Ace, you aren’t understanding.” Max says. He reaches forward, touching my hand briefly before I rip it away and glare at him.

“Ace, please listen to me. I wanted last night to happen. Hell, I’ve wanted last night to happen for years, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like that! I felt so disappointed and frustrated with myself and with you because I’ve been thinking about that moment for so long. Planning out how to make every detail perfect, and last night wasn’t it. Nothing went like it was supposed to.”

Before I can stop it, a small part of me feels elation and hope surfacing, accompanied by pain at hearing
disappointment
and
not supposed to
. I move my eyes up to him, refusing to talk, not trusting myself or my emotions.

“This isn’t coming out right,” he says with a sigh. I watch his hand run over his hair a few times before wiping down the front of his face.

“Ace, I care about you, a lot,” he says, looking at me like this should offer me clarity. I tilt my head slightly, focusing on his words, as I try to listen with both my head and my heart. “I can’t stop fucking thinking about you.” Max’s eyes are wide as they search mine. “It’s not that us sleeping together was a mistake. You were perfect. I just wanted it to be perfect for you.”

Slowly, I start piecing the last twenty-four hours together with a new perspective.

“I didn’t want last night to happen like it did. I wanted it to be the most romantic night of your life. I wanted to have flowers and music and tell you how important you are to me.” I feel the vise wrapped around me slowly release. “Please say something,” Max whispers.

I push off the covers and crawl toward him, stopping when there’s only a few inches left between our bodies. “Last night
was
the single most romantic night of my life thus far
because
of what happened, Max. It was being with
you
that made last night special.” I hesitantly reach out and set my hand on his.

“I am head over heels for you, Max, but if you—”

Max grabs my face between his hands and before I’m able to finish my threat, He presses his lips to mine with a sense of need.

I kiss him back as the fear and heartbreak seep away with every second.

“You should go home. Come back tomorrow and kiss me like that once I’ve showered, dressed, and my hair doesn’t look like a rat’s nest,” I say, leaning my forehead against his shoulder, breathing in his warm scent.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are,” Max replies, moving his body and holding my face so that we’re face to face. “I just need to be with you right now. You scare the hell out of me when you run.”

I nod in understanding. Max has told me about his father leaving one night and never returning. I feel the same desire to be close to him. Max pulls me down so we’re lying with our faces mere inches apart.

“I’m sorry for my reaction. You were so perfect and amazing. I was just caught up in my anger. And then you ran, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“You look tired,” I whisper, stroking his unshaven face.

He nods and pulls me closer so my head rests on his shoulder. I wrap my arms around his chest and bury myself into him.

“You have to stop running from me,” Max whispers in my hair. “I’m not letting you go.” He squeezes me once more and warmth floods me.

Soon the sound of Max’s soft breaths and the even beats of his heart lull me into a peaceful sleep.

“H
arper Jo! What is going on in here?” The piercing shrill of my mother’s voice breaks me from my peaceful dream and my head snaps up. She’s standing in my doorway with a shocked expression conveying disapproval. I feel Max’s leg move from between mine and recall the events from last night. My face flushes as she stares at me with her large blue eyes.

For some reason words jumble and collide in my mind, not allowing a coherent thought to string together. My dad rounds the corner, breathless, obviously rushing from Mom’s shrieks. His eyes are wide as he takes in the room. When his eyes fall to me, words are completely lost as I stare at him like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar.

“It’s my fault. I’m very sorry. This was—” Max begins as I remain completely mute, making me feel even worse about things.

“A situation that needed to be resolved,” my dad finishes, surprising all of us. His eyes fall to me. “I expect you guys to keep visiting hours during the day going forward.”

I look from my dad to my mom and see shock flash across her face. It obviously isn’t the reaction that she was expecting either.