8. Max
eight
max
“Kid, talk to me,” Stan quietly encouraged, lightly bumping my shoulder with his. I glanced over at him and blinked. I wasn’t sure how long we had been sitting side by side, but it had been a moment.
“Don’t hold this shit in,” he urged. My lips felt dry.
“I was stupid,” I whispered, hating how the numbness I’d felt had started to fade away, leaving nothing but jagged-edged pain in its wake. I wanted to go back to feeling numb. Anything was better than realizing what an idiot I had been for the last two weeks. Longer than that.
Carver Storm.
My boss.
The man I had fallen so deeply in love with, the man I had been ready to give everything to was my boss. The one who everyone said was an asshole jerk. I still hadn’t heard anyone say a nice word about him. And this whole time, he had been lying about who he was and what he did. It didn’t make sense. I was just me and he was… so much more. Successful and well off. Why would he do all that? Go through all the trouble he had gone through for what? So he could get in my pants? Make me call him daddy and do all sorts of dirty things with him?
“You’re not stupid. You’re one of the brightest, smartest?—“
“If that’s the case, you need to meet some new people, Stan,” I spouted off sarcastically. I didn’t usually talk badly about myself, but in that moment, I wanted to wallow. I wanted to stomp my feet and yell about how unfair everything felt.
“We both know that you are. You’re bright and smart and?—“
“And an idiot.” He made a sound that meant he didn’t agree with me but he knew better than to argue with me when I got this way.
“What happened?” he asked. I could tell he was trying not to eye the massage table that was still set up in my apartment. I could feel the questions, but I grabbed a throw pillow and sat down on my old lumpy couch. Thankfully, Stan followed and sat next to me.
I looked around, and knowing hotelier Craver Storm had been spending time there made me want to cringe. Oh god, what he must have thought about my place. Man, he had really been slumming it. Everything in my place was old. Old and used and probably so beneath someone like Carver Storm.
Why the hell did he keep coming back?
“Talk to me, Max.”
“I met him at the spa,” I shared, ignoring the heat in my face.
“What?” I could hear the scowl in his voice.
“Remember how I decided to treat myself to a massage?”
“Yeah.”
“I booked one at the spa in the resort on my day off.”
“At the resort? That space is gross.” Stan made a face, and my lips twitched. Somehow, he made me feel better. But that was the magic of grumpy old blunt Stan.
“It’s not that bad.” I shook my head, “He walked in, and I thought he was a masseuse…”
“Did he?—“
“No!” I defended. “He didn’t do anything wrong, Stan. He was a total professional, but it was my first massage, so, what the hell did I know?” I shrugged. “After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”
“That doesn’t happen to you,” he noted, and lines formed at my forehead.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because I know you, kiddo. You aren’t boy crazy. Not even when you were a teenager,” he reminded me and shrugged. He wasn’t wrong.
“I guess,” I sighed. “A couple of days later, I saw him at Pine and Grind, and I don’t know.” I shrugged. That day felt like a lifetime ago. “We talked. It was nice and… I liked him. I thought we hit it off, and the rest was history. We’ve been seeing each other for the last two weeks, a little more than that.”
“Two weeks, huh?” He stared at me.
“Yeah. He was… I don’t know, so attentive and sweet.”
“Sweet? Carver Storm was sweet?”
“I know.” I sniffled, laying my head on Stan’s shoulder. “I don’t know how it was possible for the guy I’d heard about?—“
“But you really didn’t know? I mean, you called him Car. He didn’t lie about his name.”
“No!” I exclaimed, and he looked at me like I had grown an extra head. “I had no idea. I thought it was short for Carter or Carson. I don’t know.”
“But you cleaned his room. He saw you. You said you talked to him.”
“I said sorry and hurried out with a bunch of towels and bedding in my arms when I rushed out with the cart. I didn’t even look at him,” I explained.
“Was he nice to you?” Stan asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.
“Nice?” I repeated. The tip of my nose stung with unshed tears. “He was the sweetest most kind person I have ever met,” I whispered, fighting from crying. I had to hold it together. Stan hated crying.
“Carver Storm can be sweet? Who would have thought?” he said again, this time slightly playfully. I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but I simply nodded.
“He would text me throughout the day to check how I was doing, sending me corny little jokes. And…”
“What?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
“Don’t get upset.”
“Oh god, is this a sex thing? Because if it is, I really don’t need to know.
“No!” I laughed, shaking my head. But slowly, the smile on my face died. “I didn’t… we didn’t…” My face turned hot. “Like I said, he was sweet, and he didn’t want me to do anything too fast.”
“Hmm,” he grunted, and I could tell he didn’t want to like that Carver had been a gentleman despite being a liar, but he did.
“For my lunch breaks at the resort?”
“Yeah?”
“You know how I like to walk around the lake?”
“Yeah, even though you shouldn’t be out there all alone. I’ve told you that a million times. That shit’s not safe.”
“I know… Carver would have little picnics set up for me. With lunch and coffee and treats waiting for me. Every single day I worked. Right out by the lake in my favorite spot. That was probably a coincidence but…” I shrugged and kept sharing. “He would meet me at the bus stop and walk me home after my shifts,” I shared. “I told him he didn’t need to do that, that he should probably sleep, but he said my safety came first.”
Stan didn’t say a word, and for some reason, I kept sharing even though every memory physically hurt.
“He helped me package up orders and carried them to the post office for me. He even restocked my kitchen because he said I needed to take better care of myself. And I don’t know how but…” My lip wobbled.
“What?” I glanced up at the man who was the closest thing I had to a dad.
“I fell in love, Stan. I was so stupid! I fell in love with a man I didn’t know was my boss. A man who was playing games and––“ A sob ripped through me, and Stan’s arm wrapped around my shoulder before he pulled me in closer.
“Oh, kid.” He rubbed my head while I cried on his shoulder. “Max, honey, falling in love is never stupid.”
“Maybe it’s not love,” I sniffled. “Maybe I was just in a lot of like with him,” I mustered up. Trying to deny what I felt sounded wrong.
“Now we both know you’re lying.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t go back to The Crown now. I need to quit.”
“Why?” he grunted.
“Stan—“
“No. The Crown is your home. We’re your family and?—“
“I think I need to. It’s past time I put in my notice, Stan. I can’t be there forever.”
“Why the hell not? You love that place!”
“Because he’s there! He owns the place! You think I could just go back and pretend he doesn’t exist?”
“Why does it have to be all or nothing?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Stan, are you turning soft on me?”
“Kid—“
“A man like that does not end up with a girl like me!” I laughed. “Look around.”
“I’m looking,” he said, his eyes trained on me.
“He ends up with a better woman.”
“A better… are you dense?” A muffled laugh escaped me, but he ignored me. “There is no better than the woman I’m sitting next to, kid.”
“Oh, please!”
“I see a hard-working young woman who has worked for every single thing she has. A young woman who hasn’t had it easy and has made the best out of every situation.”
“Stan—“
“I see a girl who is the closest thing I have to a child of my own. Any motherfucker would be lucky to end up with you. To have the fucking privilege to love and protect you.”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” I sniffed. “I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, I know that there is no doubt in my mind you can take care of yourself. Hell, girl, the way you sent him on his way when you found out who he was, fucking brilliant. I couldn’t have been prouder if you were my own kid.”
“Stan—“ My lips wobbled again. I knew he saw me that way, but it was the first time he had ever said it out loud.
“But what you’re saying, those are all things a man does when he’s in love with a woman. Think about the time you spent together and then how he had to probably rush off back to his office and catch up on shit he should have been taking care of when he was with you. Or the lack of sleep that man was running on to be up at all those ungodly hours you like to work,” Stan pointed out, and I had to chew on the inside of my cheek.
Has Carver been doing all that?
Could it be possible that he is actually in love with me?
Could this whole thing be a mix-up where I had the wrong idea of who he was and somehow, he didn’t know how to make it right?
“Just…” he started to say but stopped. “I get it if you don’t want to see the shithead again. I won’t, either. I’ll quit with you.”
“Stan—“
“But if he tries to explain and he does love you, which I think he does, honey, that man looked like he had been stabbed in the heart when his brother let the cat out of the bag.”
“Imagine how I felt,” I muttered childishly. Stan covered my hand with his.
“I get it. He hurt you, and sometimes, well, shit, a lot of the time,” Stan said, “as men, we screw crap up. Right and left. Sometimes we can’t help it. If you think you can believe in him, if you can try and trust him again or at the very least think you can try and have him work at earning that trust and love back, I think you should give him a chance, Max.”
“I never said I didn’t love him still. I do. Feelings like these…” I rubbed the spot above my heart. “They don’t just disappear into thin air.” I swallowed, hating myself for it but not at the same time.
“I love him, Stan.”
“I know child, I know. Love is a tricky thing… especially for people like us.”
“Like us?” I repeated, and he nodded.
“You and me kid. I might not be your blood, but we’re a lot alike. I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re like the kid I never had. People like us don’t let people in easily, and when we do… shit, it’s almost impossible to get them out of there. Our hearts hold on and don’t want to let go. We’re stubborn as hell.”
“Stan—“
“The question is, will you give him another chance, or will you live with what could have been, wondering about him when you’re old and gray like me, driving yourself crazy with what might have happened if you got out of your own way and took a chance? A real one.”
“Was there someone you cared about like that?” I asked, and he nodded.
“Yeah, kid. But that’s a story for another day.” He stood, and I followed him to the door. “You going to be okay?”
“I will be.” I nodded, knowing as crappy as the situation was, there was no other choice. I’d get through this with or without him. Could I forgive Carver?
“I’ll quit if you do,” he stated.
“Stan,” I groaned.
“You’re my family, whether you like it or not.” My lips wobbled, and he frowned. “None of that! You know old Stan doesn’t do well with tears,” he gruffed, pulling me in for a tight hug. One that lasted longer than I knew he was comfortable with but somehow sensed was what I needed.
“It’s all going to be okay, kiddo. Just watch and see. Just make sure to make him grovel,” he muttered against the top of my head before he squeezed one more time and left.
I watched until he disappeared down the hall before I shut the door.
Everywhere I looked, he was there. Carver felt like he had left his presence littered all over. Like stardust.
“More like dust bunnies,” I mumbled to myself before I walked into the kitchen. My eyes dropped to two bottles of wine Olive had given me for Christmas. Bottles I had been saving for the next potluck Olive or one of her sisters hosted because I wasn’t a huge drinker, but especially not all alone.
But in that moment, after finding out Car wasn’t the man I had thought he was, there was no better time than the present. All I wanted to do was drown my sorrows in a bottle and try to forget about my time with him. Not that I actually thought that was possible
I poured drink after drink, and before I knew what I was doing, the second bottle was over three quarters of the way done. I was sleepy and slightly dizzy, but every time I got closer to my bed, my heart squeezed in my chest. I couldn’t even go to sleep on my bed because of how much it smelled like Carver.
Carver Storm.
Damn, I’d been stupid. Some easy mark for a bored billionaire to play with. I shook my head and walked around my small studio when something caught my attention. A small little square-looking thing attached to one of the fake plants I had. Working the hours I did, I didn’t have time to water real plants. I plucked it out and frowned.
“What the hell?” I wondered out loud.
It looked like… a camera. But who could have…? Only one name popped up, and in my drunken, tipsy stupor, I walked around unable to believe all the other little hidden cameras I found, dropping them onto my kitchen table before finishing off the wine.
He’d been watching me.
Carver Storm, a man who had way too much money and obviously time, had been watching me. Why? I was basically nobody. I was the girl down in the laundry room, a department he could easily get rid of. I shook my head and licked my lips. As my eyes moved through the space, every memory of us flooded my mind.
Tears prickled at my eyes, and maybe because I was alone with no one to see, I let myself cry. Burying my hands in my face, I sobbed for the man I thought I had found. The one I thought loved me for me.
But I had the wrong idea of him. He had turned out to be just like almost every other man I knew, nothing but a liar. Too bad my heart, my stupid silly heart, despite all the things I had found out, still wanted to hold out hope he was everything he had made himself seem.