13. Chapter 13
thirteen
The doors didn’t open.
My body shook in the donkey suit. My ankle throbbed in time with my pulse pumping through my skull. The beginnings of a headache clawed upward from the base of my neck. Honestly, the fact it had waited this long after the night I’d had was a miracle.
“Did that really just happen?” I asked, ignoring how obvious the answer was.
What was the protocol when your elevator that was already thirty years behind on maintenance broke down halfway between floors? If the complex’s maintenance team didn’t care enough to keep up with the elevator, I doubted they’d be in a hurry to help us out of it.
I hobbled to the buttons on the wall, which had gone ominously dark. “There’s usually a call button or something, right? For just such occasions?”
Max nodded, coming up beside me to study the panel, too. “Some call the elevator manufacturer, some call the building’s maintenance department. Others call the fire department non-emergency line, I believe.”
“Are we sure the elevator manufacturer is still in business?”
He pressed a button with a reddish tinge to it. “Guess we’ll find out.”
A tinny voice came through the tiny holes pockmarking the wall. “Yeah?”
“Uh, hi. Our elevator broke down and we’re stuck in it,” Max explained. “Can you send someone to get us out?”
“Where are you?” the voice asked, two snores shy of bored to death.
Max gave the complex’s name and address.
Static filled the elevator until the voice replied. “All right. We can get someone to you in about two hours.”
“Two hours?” I parroted, my voice pitching higher. It was already at least an hour past my bedtime, and I had a bakery to run tomorrow.
White chocolate and cranberrie s, how the Hollandaise sauce was I supposed to run the bakery tomorrow with a bum ankle?
“It’s after-hours,” the voice explained.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work for us.” Max’s voice this time. “I’m calling the fire department.”
I barely registered their words. The dingy elevator threatened to spin as my vision clouded with tears.
What was I going to do? I couldn’t walk to the bakery in the morning with my ankle like this, and I certainly couldn’t move around the kitchen fast enough to get everything baked and ready in time to open.
Even if I used a cane, I couldn’t walk and move hot cookie sheets where they needed to go.
We’d have to stay closed tomorrow. I hadn’t even made it until Gale got back without failing.
We’d lose business and the trust of our customers.
It would be the Besserman debacle all over again.
He was right. I wasn’t fit to run a bakery. I couldn’t even handle going down some stairs without crashing and burning. Being in charge of employees and their livelihoods? I’d ruin everything and they’d all hate me and when my friends found out, they’d hate me too and I’d be left behind again and—
“Whoa,” Max said gently as he pulled the donkey head off. “Breathe, Dekker.”
Air brushed against my bare cheeks. Dark speckles dotted my vision, still blurry from the tears gathering along my lashes. My veins filled with static. Buzzing. I was in my body and out of it at the same time. Watching like a helpless bystander.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice soft yet firm. “What color are my eyes?”
I blinked away the tears until his dark eyes came into focus. “Brown.”
“Good. How many fingers am I holding up?”
It took another few blinks before his hand came into focus. “Three.”
“Good. Tell me something you can hear.”
I hesitated long enough for the sound of gasping breaths to register. Were those mine ?
I forced my lungs to expand further and hold the air before releasing it. I came back to my body, feeling my buzzing skin and shaking muscles once again. “The lights. My breathing. Your voice.”
“That’s right.” A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “And what animal are you wearing?”
“A demon.” I cracked a wobbly smile, my breathing finally slowing and evening out. The static in my veins died to a dull tingle.
Ha laughed, lighting up the dim elevator with the sound. “There you go. You’re back.”
“For better or worse,” I mumbled.
I hadn’t had an episode like this in months. Over a year, actually. Since Besserman’s article had come out. That had been my second episode ever, the first being ten years ago when Dad had called with the news about my brother’s overdose.
“Yeah, the situation isn’t ideal,” Max admitted, running a hand through his hair until it stuck up at odd angles. His brow furrowed, and he softened his voice. “Are you claustrophobic?”
I huffed and sank to the floor to give my ankle and leg a break. If the stains on the dirty tiles transferred, at least they’d get on the demon donkey instead of me. “No. That would give me something actually worth panicking over.”
Not worrying about my job in the middle of an entirely different crisis. How pathetic was that?
“If it upset you enough to trigger a panic attack, I’d say whatever it is must be important, too.”
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just work stuff. Nothing major.”
Max stared at me for a few beats before sinking to the ground next to me and resting his forearms across his bent knees. Close enough his shoulder brushed the suit’s fur when I inhaled his spicy scent, now laced with the masculine tang of sweat. “You’re a terrible liar, Dekker.”
“It was work stuff,” I protested.
“I believe you,” he chuckled, not sounding like he believed me in the slightest. “But I don’t believe it was ‘nothing major .’”
I shrugged again. “I was just wondering how I’d run the bakery with my ankle like this tomorrow, that’s all. But I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it.”
He frowned so deeply his dimples appeared. “Maybe I can help?”
I shook my head until the base of my skull throbbed. “No. Absolutely not. You’ve helped enough already. More than enough.”
Hurt flashed across his features before disappearing behind his mask of concern.
I cringed. “That came out wrong. I’m really grateful for your help. Honest. You’ve been way too kind to me and I just—”
I scrunched my eyes shut as my throat constricted with emotion.
I’d been pushing through my discomfort for too long, and now everything converged at once.
The jitteriness from my almost-panic attack.
Lack of sleep. My aching muscles and swollen ankle.
The guilt. And the stress. So. Much. Stress.
The bone-deep exhaustion that came from constant hypervigilance at home, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Max to get the vengeance he deserved.
Reading into every action and word, warring with my instincts and the advice from my friends about his true intentions.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Not knowing was going to drive me insane long before I got my just desserts.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I whimpered, tears stinging my eyes. “Don’t you hate me for what I did to you?”
My question hung in the air, a guillotine suspended above my head, ready to be loosed. All he had to do was say the word. Confirm my fears or set me free.
His eyebrows rose and his arms went slack in his lap. “ Hate you? Why on earth would I hate you? You didn’t do anything to me, Dekker.”
I let my head fall back to rest against the elevator wall and ticked off the list of offenses on my fingers.
“In less than two weeks, I managed to rope you into helping me move, saving me from a nonexistent snake, walking me to work, walking me to pick up this stupid suit, carrying me after I hurt my ankle, and you’re stuck in an elevator now because of me.
” I stopped counting and held my palms upward in a helpless gesture.
“And let’s not forget the worst of all—I broke you and your fiancée up.
I ruined your chance at happiness, and now I’m still ruining your life.
I’m a walking disaster.” I glanced at my foot and reconsidered. “A hobbling disaster.”
He let my outburst settle between us, fill up the meager square footage and sink into every pore.
His lips pressed into a line, a muscle in his jaw flickering, before finally breaking the silence with his gentle baritone.
“None of those things were your fault, Dekker. Not a single one. You haven’t forced me to do anything. I chose each of those.”
“Except ending your engagement,” I murmured.
He smiled. A genuine Max smile that seemed completely out of place, considering the misery I’d brought upon him. “True, Vicky was the one who broke things off. And it sucked. It hurt for a while, and I didn’t want to accept the valid concerns she’d brought up.”
My heart sank even lower, until it threatened to replace my stomach. He’d gone through that because of me. Because I didn’t hide the stars in my eyes or keep my distance when I should have.
He sobered and playfully bumped his shoulder against mine.
“But our relationship had problems long before the cake tasting. Seeing you and I interact was… well…” He broke off, his jaw working back and forth as he chose his words.
“It made Vicky realize some things she’d been in denial about. Things I was still in denial about.”
I hugged my arms across my middle. “Still sounds a lot like I’m the one who broke you two up.”
He smiled and shook his head. “We weren’t a good match, Dekker.
We were each other’s comfortable option, the one that made sense on paper because we checked each other’s boxes, and we liked each other enough that we thought it was love.
” He took a deep breath and held it before letting it out through pursed lips.
“If anything, I’d say the break-up was a blessing in disguise.
I realized things about myself that I needed to learn, and Vicky and I were spared from marrying people we didn’t really love. ”
I blinked hard, reluctant to believe him. Not because I doubted his honesty, but because it seemed too good to be true. My friends had been right all along. Huh.