Chapter 19 #2
And before I can even respond, he takes off toward the kitchen, leaving me with a heavy heart full of guilt.
Because I believe him.
Max
I press my hands into the counter, taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart.
I’ve never done that before.
Ever. I’ve never put my heart on the line like that, told a woman how I feel, and fuck, it’s terrifying but also freeing.
There’s only so much I can say to convince her, to let her know that I’m not the person Dwight portrays me as.
I just hope . . . I hope she can possibly believe me.
I stand taller, looking around the kitchen.
It’s fucking late, I’m tired, exhausted, and honestly, I just want to go to bed, so I lock the back door, straighten the dirty dishes—I splash a little water on them so they don’t crust overnight—and then I walk back into the living room, where she’s still seated on the couch, staring at the fire.
“Um, I’m going to go brush my teeth. I should have grabbed some items for you when I went back to your place, but I’ll pick out some clothes and bring them down for you.”
She absently nods, so I take that as my moment to leave.
I head upstairs and grab my toothbrush, a brand-new toothbrush for her, and some toothpaste.
Then I rifle through my pajamas, looking for something that might fit her, but they’re all huge.
I consider grabbing a pair of my mom’s, but that seems even weirder to me, so I take my smallest pair of pants downstairs along with the wipes in case she wants to wash up.
I bring everything to the downstairs bathroom and quickly get ready for bed, glancing in the mirror occasionally to see that my hair has curled in weird ways and my eyes look tired and worried.
A real treasure.
Shaking my head, I go back to the living room and say, “Uh, bathroom is all yours. There’s some water in there, so when you go to the bathroom, just put water down the toilet, and it should do the trick.
I left a flashlight on in there for you, so you don’t get lost. And, uh, there’s a brand-new toothbrush in there as well, dentist approved if you’re worried.
Oh, and some pajama pants if you want something to change into.
They’re flannel but will probably be huge on you.
” I tug on my neck. “I can sleep on the couch, and you can take the air mattress so you’re closer to the fire.
I wasn’t planning on having a guest, or else I’d have blown up another air mattress, but I’d have to go digging for it. ”
“It’s fine,” she says and then scoots to the edge of the couch.
I’m quick to rush over. “Do you need help?”
She shifts the blankets off her, and a chill takes over her entire body, causing her to shake. “No . . . I’m good.”
“You sure?”
She nods, but I still take her hand in mine and help her to her feet. When she’s fully standing, she looks up at me, those ocean eyes of hers nearly splitting me in two.
“Um, let me get out of your way,” I say. I step to the side. “Bathroom is down the hall on the right. Yell if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” she says softly and then heads that way . . . slowly.
I waver between helping her to the bathroom and holding back. She’s weaker than I thought she’d be. Then again, being that cold for that long, it takes a toll on the body. She’s probably exhausted, so I should make her a comfortable place to rest.
While she’s in the bathroom, I set up the bed so there’s a fitted sheet and top sheet on the mattress, something I planned to bypass because I was by myself, but now that she’s here, I want her to be as comfortable as possible.
I place a few blankets down, then fold it all at the top, and put a pillow down as well.
When I’m happy with it, I place another log on the fire, take the spare pillow and blanket, and toss them on the couch just as she comes back into the living room.
She’s wearing my pajama top, which she put on earlier, but it seems like she took her sweatshirt off, and she’s wearing the pair of pajama pants I let her borrow, but they’re dragging on the floor.
Fuck . . . it’s adorable.
When she sees the bed that’s set up, she glances over at the couch, and she makes a displeased expression. “Is that what you’re sleeping with?”
I glance back at the single blanket and the pillow. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
“You won’t fit on the couch, Atlas.”
“Eh, I’ll curl up.”
“I can take the couch,” she says as she slowly moves toward it.
“No,” I say, sounding more forceful than I want to.
“I mean, no, please, take the air mattress. You’re already cold.
You need to stay close to the fire. I’ll manage it throughout the night, but it might die down a little, and I don’t want you getting any colder than you are. You’re taking the air mattress.”
She looks at the air mattress, studying it, and then says, “Share it with me.”
“No, it’s okay. You take it.”
“Do you not want to share it with me?” I swear her pupils grow larger than normal as she stares up at me.
I mean, yeah, I want to fucking share it with her. That would be amazing, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. “I, uh, I don’t have any problem sharing it. I just want to respect your space is all.”
“Please share. I might need your body heat during the night anyway.”
I mean, valid point. “Okay, yeah, I can share with you.”
“Thank you,” she answers quietly and then moves toward the bed.
“Do you need help?” I ask, pausing her from getting down on the mattress.
“Atlas?”
“Hmm?”
“I really can do this myself.”
“I know.” I push my hand through my hair, feeling awkward and nervous. “I just . . . I don’t know. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I appreciate that, but I can handle this.”
And then I watch her climb on the air mattress and slip under the covers.
Okay, she can handle this.
I check the front door one last time to make sure it’s locked, grab my phone and a flashlight, and set them next to the bed in case I need them in the middle of the night, put one more log on the fire, and then move down to the air mattress and slip under the covers as well, making a deliberate point to stick to my side of the bed.
“Are you, uh, are you comfortable?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says with a shiver.
“Want another blanket?”
“No. Can you . . . can you come closer?”
“Oh sure,” I say on a gulp as I slide closer to her.
And then to my utter surprise, she closes the distance and plasters her body right against mine. And it’s awkward, because my arm is against my right side, and she’s up against my arm. I want to put my arm around her. I want to have her close, but that’s pretty presumptuous—
“Can you hold me?” she asks, causing a sweat to break out on my upper lip, because was she just reading my mind?
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Positive,” she says.
Well, she doesn’t have to ask me twice. I loop my arm around her, and immediately, she snuggles in close, resting her head on my shoulder and placing her hand on my chest. Her faint scent of lavender filters up to my nose as she fits perfectly into my side.
Well, motherfucker . . . this is . . . this is more than I could have asked for.
At first, I can feel my body grow stiff, unsure how to handle this, but as she melts into my side, nuzzling her head against my shoulder, the tension wears off, and I ease into the hold, allowing myself to spread my hand along her hip and get comfortable.
“That okay?” I ask.
“Perfect,” she says, her answer so quiet, so . . . relaxed that it actually makes my heart beat faster. Knowing I can make her feel comfortable with me, that means so much.
I close my eyes, allowing myself to revel in this moment because I can’t really recall a time when I felt this attracted to a woman, when I waited with bated breath to see if she’d give me her time. And right now, she’s giving me her whole night.
She sighs against me, and her hand splays out across my chest, warming my body, as my imagination starts to play with me. What if her hand moved down an inch or two? What if it traveled to the hem of my shirt and her fingers toyed with the idea of touching my bare skin?
What if—
“Atlas?”
“Hmm?”
Her thumb strokes my chest, spreading another wave of warmth through me. “I need you to know something.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
Then to my surprise, she sits up and stares down at me, her beautiful face half-lit up by the fire.
“I, um . . . I want you to know that I . . . that I believe you.”
“You . . . you do?” I ask, feeling my chest fill with relief.
She nods. “I do, and I’m sorry if . . . if I’ve seemed ungrateful tonight, because I’m not.
I’m so grateful for you. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t come and rescue me.
Rescue my tarantula. You . . . you put your life on the line for me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for that. ”
“You don’t need to,” I say, my pulse picking up, my body tingling.
“I can at least tell you how grateful I am,” she says as her thumb continues to stroke my chest. “And I’m sorry it took me so long. I was just processing.”
“Processing what?”
“All the things you were doing. I have . . . I have one person telling me one thing about you, but then I see your actions, and your actions speak so much louder than your words, and I want to believe that you’re not doing it to manipulate—”
“I’m not,” I say quickly. “Fuck, I’m not, Betty.
I genuinely care about you, and what I said earlier, it’s all true.
I like you. I don’t know how it happened, maybe when we were awkwardly talking about penises and vaginas in the gym, I don’t know, but I felt like I knew you on a deeper level, like we’re the same person, and fuck, you’re hot and funny and cute—”
She places her finger over my lips, quieting me. With a smile tugging on her lips, she says, “I believe you, Atlas. I don’t know why Dwight said those things, I truly don’t, but I do know that you are not the same person he speaks of.”
“I swear to you, Betty.” I wet my lips. “I swear to you that I didn’t touch his ornament. You know me. You know how sacred that tree is. I wouldn’t do that.”
She nods. “That’s what I was trying to process, because it didn’t make sense. None of it makes sense. I really hope I’m not being blind about all this and it’s not one big ruse, but I believe you. I trust you. I think . . . I think Dwight is placing the blame on you when it was maybe someone else.”
That’s what I’ve been thinking about today too. Who did that to him?
Was it intentional? If so, it was truly unkind. But hearing that Betty believes I wasn’t an asshole to Dwight, well, it feels as though I’ve been validated. And I didn’t realize until this moment how important that was to me. Betty approving of me.
I let out a long pent-up breath and drag my hand over my face. “Fuck, I’m so glad you said that. Because it wasn’t me. I promise you, it wasn’t me.”
“I know.” Her hand slides down my stomach. “I know it wasn’t you.” And then her hand slips under the hem of my shirt, and just like that, her fingers are touching my skin. “And I’m sorry that for a moment, I believed you were capable of doing that to him.”
It’s extremely difficult to think right at this moment, but it’s not lost on me that her trust in me could all come undone if she finds out about the wooing plan.
Even though my intentions weren’t honorable initially, I’m honestly into her now, and I loathe the idea of Betty finding out about the ways Storee and I did manipulate situations.
I want her to trust me. I want her to choose me.
“You . . . you don’t need to apologize,” I answer as her hand travels up my stomach. My teeth tug on my bottom lip as she drags her finger across my abs.
“I just want you to know that I trust you, that I’m grateful for you.”
“I really appreciate that, Betty. Probably more than you know.”
She smiles softly. “It’s the truth. And also, thank you for tonight. For coming to get me, housing me, keeping me warm. For everything.”
“You’re welcome,” I answer softly while her finger circles my stomach, creating a type of heat deep inside me that will keep me warm all night. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”
“Hard not to.” She shivers, which concerns me.
“Here, let’s get you under the blanket.” I start to adjust the blankets, but she stops me as she worries her lip. “What?” I ask.
“Um, I was kind of wondering, and please feel free to say no, but maybe, to keep me warmer and maybe you warmer, that possibly you would consider, only if you want to . . . if you could maybe sleep with your shirt off?”
Fuck, how cute is she, asking all shy like that? Sleep with my shirt off so her hand is constantly on my skin all night? As if she has to ask fucking twice.
“Is that what you want?” I ask, and she responds with a timid nod. I’ll make this easy on her. “Then yeah, I can.” I sit up, and she moves to the side as I reach behind my head and pull my shirt off. I toss it to the side and then lie back down.
I watch as her eyes take me in. Talk about a fucking ego boost.
“You won’t be too cold?”
Too cold? My body is a fucking inferno right now, especially with the way she just wet her lips while checking out my chest.
“Nah, I was probably going to get too hot with it on.”
“Okay. Um, well, thank you.”
And then she lies back down, resting her head on my shoulder and snuggling in close, her hand back on my chest, and that’s about it . . .
Not that I was looking for more.
This is perfect.
This is all I need tonight.
Nothing else.