He’d not kissed a woman like that since . . . Lizzie, and even then, he struggled to pull to memory a time where the two of them had been that frantic to taste one another. He’d come to the conclusion that, somehow, that was different. He’d loved Lizzie, spent years with her where, over time, as was the case in most relationships, their passion and need for each other morphed from explosive flash-bang fireworks into something quieter, calmer, but no less hot.
“Fuck,” he muttered toward the ceiling. He had no idea what his next step was. He’d crept out of Grace’s bed, avoiding looking at her so warm and beautiful as she slept, and left the house like the coward he was. He didn’t even leave a note, but then, what the hell would he have written? His head was a hot mess, and until he decided what he was going to do, he needed to stay away from her.
It was almost too much for him, an addict, to cope with. His cravings, for the most part, stayed relatively quiet, but that could all change if he didn’t sort his shit out. His eight-month NA coin dipped and flicked between the knuckles of his right hand. Thank God for his anti-anxiety meds, he thought wryly. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe deeply, but a knock at the door had them snapping back open.
Panic seized him.
Grace.
What the hell would he say to her? He’d already beaten himself up for slamming the door in her face once, he couldn’t do that again, but he didn’t have any answers to the questions she’d have and deserved to ask. The knock came again, firmer and not sounding at all like the polite, timid knock that Grace always gave. Max cleared his throat and heaved himself off the bed, approaching the door and resting his forehead against it for a brief moment, trying to gather what courage he could to face whatever was standing on the other side.
Holding his breath, he unlocked it and swung it open. “Carter!”
He was so surprised to see his friend, and even more relieved to find him and not Grace standing there, that he was unable to keep himself from pulling his buddy in for a huge hug, slapping his back and smiling.
Stumbling into the embrace, Carter hugged him back. That was reassuring; at least he wasn’t there to deliver bad news.
“What the hell, man?” Max asked. “What are you doing here?” He stood back, clasping Carter’s shoulders. He looked okay, dressed casual in a gray Henley, dark blue jeans, and a beat-up brown lightweight motorcycle jacket. It looked to be more for fashion than function, but it was still badass.
“I thought I’d come and see you,” Carter grinned. “You know, see how you’re doin’.”
Max narrowed his eyes. “Bullshit. You’re here hiding from Kat, aren’t you?”
Carter snorted, rubbing a palm across the back of his neck. “Maybe.”
Max waved a hand. “Well, whatever, come in.” He stood back for Carter to enter and closed the door behind him. It was so good to see his best friend, especially in light of the fact that shit was not at all copacetic. Maybe a little normalcy was what Max needed to pull his head out of his ass.
With his hands in the pockets of his jeans, Carter looked around the room, his gaze spending time on the canvases in the corner of the room. He approached them and dropped to his haunches as he took a closer look. Carter’s finger moved over the lime-green patterns of one particular piece. “These are great,” he commented.
“They’re all right,” Max muttered, reaching to grab a pair of worn blue jeans to change into. He’d been slopping in sweats since his shower after he arrived back at the boardinghouse that morning.
“Modesty doesn’t suit you,” Carter said over his shoulder. “This one would look sweet in my apartment.”
“Then take it,” Max uttered dismissively. He wasn’t fond of the green anyway.
Still crouched, Carter turned at the waist. “Really?”
“Call it a birthday gift.”
“My birthday was in March.” Carter smirked.
“Shit, really?” Max paused. “Then it’s a belated birthday gift. Surprise!”
Carter laughed, shaking his head. “Thanks.”
After a silent moment where Carter’s stare on him began to make Max nervous, Carter stood and wandered closer. “You okay?”
Max ran a hand through his hair, debating quickly whether to simply spill. He settled for giving a lackadaisical shrug. “Sure.”
Carter tilted his head in the way that Max recognized. He was looking for a lie. “Well, you look good, dude. The West Virginia air is working its magic, huh?”
Max coughed an uneasy laugh. “Yeah, look, what do you say we go and get some coffee?”
“Food, too. I’m starving. Haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“You drove?”
“From the airport.” Carter grimaced at Max’s questioning frown. “Company private jet.”
“Shit, man.”
“I know,” Carter said with a shrug. “But it was that or drive for four hours and I need to head back tonight.”
Max nodded as he grabbed his keys and wallet. “Flying visit then.”
“Seems that way.” Carter walked out in front of Max and waited as he locked up. “So how are things?”
Max pocketed his keys and walked shoulder to shoulder with Carter down the hallway toward the stairs of the boardinghouse. “I’m . . . okay.” Carter didn’t look convinced, lifting a curious eyebrow, which Max tried to ignore. “It’s nothing major. I’m just a fucking idiot.”