10. Maxon
The morning is just starting to warm up after a surprisingly cold night. One of the last few that reminds us it’s still spring in Buffalo and not summer yet. Sunrise is leaking pink rays of light between the buildings of the city as I walk along the closed storefronts. It’s too early for any of them to be open yet, but that didn’t stop me from coming this early.
Not like I was getting sleep anyway.
After Paige had taken off last night during the game, I’d felt like a complete jerk. I knew the kind of person Paige was, at least the type of person she used to be, I should have known she would get upset over me offering her money to find a new place.
Which is precisely why I’ve come to her storefront at this unholy hour. I need to talk to her. I need to make things right. I can’t have another thing wrong between us. So, I’ll just sit and wait on her front step until she shows up and has to listen to me.
The Events by Paige sign hangs ahead of me, a cute, round sign that dangles off the building that has full windows in the front, giving a perfect view of the street from her office. It’s entirely like Paige and doesn’t surprise me at all that she fell in love with it. When I get to the windows of her shop, I can’t help but peer inside the space she has decorated. A large table sits towards the back of the shop where I can picture her standing along with a client, her plans for their party laid out on the tabletop for them to see. Next to the table, Paige’s desk is positioned, angled so she can see out into the space she has designed for herself and the large open floor to ceiling window. Against one wall towards the front she’s built a large balloon arch and positioned it in front of a wall of hanging greenery, a neon “CHEERS” sign hangs against the foliage casting a pink light against the leaves. Across the space, on the other wall, is a small sitting area with a couple of sleek looking chairs and an overstuffed couch with a pillow and blanket draped across it.
I knit my brow together just as from deeper in the shop I see Paige stepping out, her wet hair hanging loosely around her shoulders as she rubs a towel against her head. I step out of view as she approaches closer to the large window and watch as she begins to fold the throw blanket that I quickly realize isn’t a throw blanket at all, but a comforter. Like one that should be on somebody’s bed, and similarly, the pillow wasn’t just for decoration either.
She was sleeping on the couch.
That stubborn woman. She is willing to literally sleep in the storefront window rather than actually ask for someone’s help. Does she even realize how unsafe that is? That any creep could see her from the street sleeping there on the couch.
Frustration boils inside of me and I pull away from the window, my fists balling and before I know it I find myself throwing punch after punch into the brick wall of her building.
She was always stubborn.
Punch.
She never asked for anybody’s help.
Punch.
She always made sure everyone else was taken care of.
Punch.
She wouldn’t let anyone take care of her. Wouldn’t let me take care of her.
When I pull my fist away from the wall I realize there’s a mark of blood and I glance down to my cracked knuckles. Turning my back to the wall, the sting in my hand draining my anger, and lean against the building. Where were the Bennetts through all of this? Why hadn’t she gone to them?
Because she’s stubborn.
They were her family, she knows she can rely on them, that she can fall back on them when she needs help, but she won’t… and I have an inkling of an idea why.
For the same reason she didn’t want me to come to Scotland with her.
I ignore the familiar pain that comes with reliving that day, a day that sent me spiraling out of control until my father had to stronghold me into going to law school. Pulling so many strings for my acceptance that I all but turned into a puppet and he was my puppeteer. And not much has changed since, despite the success I’ve had. Any success solely belongs to him and any failure is completely my fault. And it was the desperation to get out from the watchful eyes of his friends at the universities that I worked to finish law school early.
I run my non-bloodied hand through my hair, my attention drawn to the rattling of the door as Paige unlocks the shop, pulling me back to the present problem:
Paige doesn’t ask for help. Not even when she needs it.
And the last time she told me she didn’t need anyone, I simply watched as she walked out of my life.
I’m not about to let that happen again.
I straighten, stepping towards the front door of Events by Paige and swinging it open. She jumps in surprise, her hair still wet, donning her professional exterior which is a stark contrast to the hockey jersey and sweatpants that I saw her in last night.
I much prefer the jersey.
Her gaze narrows on me. “What do you want?”
“How long have you been sleeping here?” I say in response, ignoring her question entirely and a slight satisfaction comes over me when her gaze darts towards the couch and then back to me. There’s exhaustion behind her steely pupils that I’d noticed last night but ignored, assuming it was caused by a long day and not the fact that she’s been sleeping on a couch.
She crosses her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I point to the couch, not missing a beat. “There. On the couch. With a pink comforter and a Barbie pillow.”
Her jaw is open, horror evident in her eyes. “Were you watching me?”
I roll my eyes, dropping my hand back to my side. “No. I wasn’t watching you. I came to apologize to you for last night, but I changed my mind-”
She scoffs. “Geez thanks, that makes me feel so warm and fuz-”
“Will you let me finish?” I snap.
“No!” She snaps back.
I stare at her, her chin jutted out in defiance and I’m not sure if I want to punch another wall or cross the distance between us and kiss her again. A laugh escapes me at the sheer absurdity of our childish arguing and she continues to watch me intently. “You are the most stubborn person I know.”
“So you’ve said before.” She says dryly, her gaze raking over me before stopping at something by my side.
My hand.
“You’re bleeding.” She steps up to me, taking the hand I’d hit against the wall outside, concern lacing its way across her brow. “What did you do?”
“Got into a fight.” I say, watching her as she examines my knuckles, trying to ignore the soft feeling of her fingers as they streak sparks across my skin. This was entirely too much like her, fire and fury until someone needed help and then every sour feeling was thrown to the wind. She was too good for her own good.
She glances at me. “With who?”
I nod toward the door. “Your wall.”
She drops my hand and lets out a huff. “I’ve got a first aid kit in the back. You need to get that cleaned or it’ll get infected.” She says over her shoulder as she starts towards the back of the building. “Sit down, I’ll be right back.” She motions towards the couch.
I do as I’m told, not willing to fight with her on this topic. If I’ve learned anything about Paige in all the years we’ve known each other, it is to pick my battles wisely. So I take a seat on the couch, and honestly, it wasn’t that uncomfortable. I could almost imagine lying down and taking a nap on the thing. But it wasn’t a bed, not to mention the clear view anyone got from the outside.
No, she couldn’t stay here another night. I’m not going to let that happen.
The clip of Paige’s heels draws my attention to her as she makes her way back toward me, shuffling through a small bag filled with first aid supplies as she walks. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” I say when she sits down on the coffee table in front of me.
“Sure, that’s what you always say.” She pulls her hair around her neck so it’s all gathered to one side, her gaze fixed on my hand as she begins to rub an antibacterial wipe across my knuckles. I watch her as her features scrunch into a frown, a wrinkle creasing between her brow as she focuses.
“Ouch, that hurts.” I say, wincing slightly, and she rolls her eyes.
“Baby.” She says, a smile touching the corner of her lips as she teases. She moves on from cleaning the scuffs on my knuckles and places a pad of gauze before wrapping a line of tape around it all, her brow knit together as she inspects her handy work. “That should do.” She says, her steely eyes glancing up to mine. It takes all my self-control not to lean in and kiss her. You know… as a token of my gratitude.
That’s chivalry, right?
“I didn’t know about your dad.” I find myself saying instead and she just stares down at my hand that’s still nestled against hers.
“No one does.”
I knit my brow at her. “Not even your mom? The Bennetts?”
She shakes her head. “No, it happened four summers ago. Ma had already moved in with Gram and I knew if I told Mrs. Bennett she would have called her. Ma already has so much on her hands. Theo was still living in Philly at the time and Aspen… he was off somewhere with you.”
I turn my hand so that I can rub my thumb along the delicate part of her wrist. “I’m sorry Paige, you shouldn’t have had to deal with that on your own.”
She drops my hand, pulling hers from mine and her grey eyes have turned hard again. “It’s fine, I can take care of myself.”
Difficult. She’s just plain difficult.
And I can’t help but love that about her.
“Paige, you can’t sleep here again.”
She stands so that she can look down at me. “I’m just fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I am worried about you though, this isn’t safe. I-” I have to word this right otherwise we’ll just have a repeat of what happened at the hockey game last night. “I think you should come stay with me at the estate.”
The word “surprised” would not do Paige’s reaction any justice… “Mortified” would probably be better suited.
“What? No. Absolutely not.”
But the second the words have left my lips, I”m set on it. She”s not going to let me pay for her to stay somewhere, she”s not going to tell the Bennetts what’s going on. This is the only solution. “Don’t argue with me on this, what you’re doing isn’t safe and I’m not letting it happen again.”
She’s shaking her head though. “Maxon, I can’t just-”
“Don’t make me pick you up and carry you out of here, Paige.”
The color drains from her face. “You wouldn’t…”
“I did at prom and I will again.”
She may not willingly take my help. But I wasn’t going to let her refuse it this time either.