“Where did you go?”
“Florida,” she half laughs. “We lived in Georgia then. Rory and I walked, hopped trains, and hitched. It’s a wonder we weren’t killed.”
“Damn.” I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. “You got married?”
“In a way. Rory and I were a team. We loved each other deeply, but well…it wasn’t an adult love, at least not for me—but he was my world. We were teens and experimenting. Rory was getting sick again. We both knew it though we tried not to talk about it. We decided to give each other our first times.” My arms contract against her, pulling her even further into me. Needing her closer, even if I don’t understand why. “Rory though, was an old soul. Or maybe he just knew his time was short. He said we couldn’t unless we were married because he wanted his first time to be with his wife.”
“Is that where you get it from?” I ask gruffly.
“Get what?”
“Your belief that fairytales happen?”
“Maybe. I’d like to think that Rory got everything in his next life that this one cheated him of. Plus, I mean with all the hell we had, somehow Rory and I found each other and that was good. That was pure. That has to mean something, Max.” There’s a pain in my chest at her words. I ignore it and wait, for her to finish the story. “So, at the ripe age of seventeen, Rory and I went out on Flagler Beach and joined hands as the tide started coming in. We yelled out to the powers that be that we were linked together forever, husband and wife.”
“You’re a remarkable woman, Kitten,” I tell her, trying to work through the thoughts that I’m having, but unable to process them.
“It’s your turn now,” she says, and I sigh. I don’t want to talk about Renee. I’m about to tell her that when Tess, remarkable Tess, surprises me again.
“Exactly what is your relationship with the Vipers, Max? Why is Markum going all out to help you? I mean I’ve seen your ink, and it’s great and all, but there has to be more to your story.”
27
Tess
I think I’m holding my breath, waiting for Max to answer. He’s so hard to read and our relationship, or whatever this is, is so complicated. I find myself worried; any time I push him for more.
“What makes you think there’s more?”
“Umm…gee…I don’t know, Max. Maybe because I’m not stupid. What kind of man would stick his neck out, and that of his men, to protect an outsider?”
“I told you; I had markers I called in.”
“Yeah, okay,” I answer, letting it go and feeling the disappointment settle inside. Why did I think something had shifted with us since that day I decided to go with him? How did I forget the real reason I am in Max’s life? I pull away, thinking now would be a good time to get some distance. To reassess exactly, what the hell I’m doing.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls, holding me even though I’m trying to get away.
“I just need some air,” I lie. I’m hurt, and I shouldn’t be. I’m stupid.
“Damn it, Tess!” he growls when I finally manage to get off the bed, and I’m doing my best to stop the tears. I’m not a crier, so I don’t even know why I want to cry! But, I do. I absolutely want to cry, because I feel helpless, and I hate that feeling.
“It’s okay, Mad Max, I get it. I do. Just because I tell you about my life, it doesn’t mean we’re sharing. I’m your hostage. I just forgot for a minute exactly what kind of relationship we have.” Those words bring out the tears. I hate that they are falling, I hate that I can’t stop them, and I hate that Max caused them.
“Will you calm down?”
“I am calm!” I argue.
“Then why are you crying?” he asks confused, and he should be. I am. So, I give him the truth.
“I don’t know!”
“Jesus, this is why I don’t do relationships. You women are crazy. Get back in bed, Tess.”
“I want a drink,” I grumble, glad when the tears seem to disappear as quickly as they appeared. Maybe I was just raw from talking about Rory. I don’t allow myself to go there very often.
“Hell, I need one, but if you want to hear this damn story, get back in bed.”
“Why? You don’t have to tell me, after all, I’m just…”
“Shut it before I tan your hide. And trust me after the workout I gave you this evening, doing that will leave you hurting, and not in the way you like.” His words are supposed to be a threat, I know, but I can’t stop the quiver of awareness that travels down my spine. “Jesus, Kitten, get the look off your face before I fuck you and me both into a coma.”