Chapter 9
Rainey
I was so exhausted from today’s marathon of baking—twelve dozen cupcakes with buttercream roses, six birthday cakes, eight dozen double chocolate cookies, and four trays of cinnamon rolls—plus restocking the display cases and counting every last bag of flour for inventory, that I collapsed into bed around ten.
Earlier, I’d called Max around nine and got his voicemail, which sent a prickle of worry down my spine since he always responds with at least a quick text.
I forced down lukewarm pasta from a plastic container.
After that, I stood under the shower until the water ran cold, my muscles aching as I finally crawled between the sheets.
The heavy, uneven thud-scrape of someone stumbling up the stairs is what jolts me awake.
“S-sunshine,” Max slurs up the stairs.
Quickly, I get out of the covers and run toward the stairs.
“Max?” I’ve never seen Max drunk. Never.
He’s never been much of a drinker because of his dad, I assume.
He heaves, leaning against the rails. I rush to hold him up.
His tall, muscular body makes it hard to hold him up. “Honey, where have you been?”
“Out. Drank.” His arms go around my shoulders as I wrap my arms around his waist and walk us to the bedroom. He slumps onto the bed. His eyes trail over my bare legs. “You…pretty.”
I look over at the clock on the wall. It’s two in the morning. “Where have you been, Max?” My voice rises. He’s never done this before, so it’s out of character for him.
“We boxed, then Drake stopped by. We were all shooting the shit. Leo, Xander, Mikey showed up and me. We just drank too much.” His fingers run up and down my leg. “My phone died.”
I sigh. “I was worried about you.”
“I had Johnny watching over you.”
I groan. Not again. He’s too drunk to even say anything. I bend to take his shoes off.
“You’re the best,” he slurs.
God, how much did he drink?
“S-sexy.”
His foot curls when I slip one shoe off, then I move to the other, and then I ask, “How did you get home?”
“I had a ride.”
I nod.
“She helped me to the door.”
She.
“Who?” I shout. It better not be her.
“Don’t yell, Sol. My head.”
“I will scream or throw a punch if you don’t answer me.” I raise a brow at him, standing to my feet, my hands folded to my chest.
“Annette.”
What the actual hell? Of all people, she’s giving my man a ride home?
“You should have called me, Max. What, were you drinking with her, too?”
“No…No, I called Carlos to give us a ride, but Annette showed up instead. She gave Xander and me a ride.”
My blood pressure is skyrocketing to the point of going ballistic on him. “I suppose she took Xander home first.”
He flops onto the bed. “She did.”
Of course she did. She would do anything to get time with him.
“I would have appreciated it if you had called me. You made a call to Carlos. You could have called me. The office has a phone. You could have called me.” The flames of jealousy burn hotter.
It’s not the type of jealousy where I feel she’s better than me.
No, it’s the fact that he is drunk, and I don’t trust her. And I’m pissed he didn’t call me.
“Perdón,” is all he says, then soft snores leave his lips.
I toss and turn for two hours, then get up. I have too much on my mind. After Carlos’s call and Max getting home late without even bothering to reach out, it stirs so much in me. I can’t think straight.
The shower hisses upstairs in the background as I nurse my third cup of coffee from Max’s high-end espresso machine—identical to the one I had at my parents’ home. I couldn’t afford one when I moved out, so it’s nice to have a luxury cup of espresso at home when I’m not at the café.
I drum my fingernails against the warm ceramic. The clomp of shoes stomping down the stairs makes me tighten my grip on the cup. This is probably one of the quickest showers this man has taken.
“Good morning.” His voice is low and raspy. He shuffles to the cabinet where he keeps his painkillers, eyes fixed on anything but me.
“Morning.”
“I’m sorry.”
I stay quiet.
“I’ve seen my dad drunk so many times. I’ve never wanted you to see me like that. I fucked up.”
I swallow, and my gaze follows as he grasps a half-filled water bottle on the counter.
“I know you’re pissed. As you should be.” Max turns to face me.
“I’m not angry with you. You don’t drink often, and you never get drunk.
It’s okay every so often to drink socially.
What I am pissed about is that you should have called.
I was worried about you. When you have late days, you’re always home by nine, but always a phone call away.
” Something between a laugh and a sob escapes me.
“And you had a woman who’s clearly obsessed with you give you a ride. You know how I feel about her.”
I slide off the stool slowly to fix Max a cup of coffee. His arms wrap around my waist, and his chin rests on the top of my head. “Nothing happened, Rain.” He blows a kiss on the back of my head. “It’s not like I asked her for a ride. I called Carlos.”
I turn to face him while handing him the steaming cup of espresso. Our fingers brush. “You didn’t contact me.”
“I’m sorry.”
I sigh. “Okay…and your shirt is inside out.”
He pulls it over his head, showing every muscle. The stab in my chest twists when I see his back. Although the tattoo covers it, I know they’re there. I’ve always known they’re there. Because of me. Every single one of them. Because. Of. Me.
“Max, can you sit?” I murmur, my voice low.
The wooden stool scrapes across the tile floor when he pulls it out. Once he slumps into it, I take a seat next to him.
“What is it?”
My chin trembles, and I try my hardest to swallow the pain gnawing at me in pure torture.
I run my index finger down his sharp, masculine jawline.
My fingers prickle under the stubble on his chin.
He’s an incredibly handsome man. Any woman would die to have this man’s love.
And I’m sitting here wondering if I deserve it.
His brows pinch together. Worried. He’s always concerned about me.
He’s saved me countless times. It’s time I did the same at the cost of my broken heart.
“I love you. I’ll always love you.”
Max takes my hand, which has been stroking his jaw, and interweaves it with his. His grip is strong, as if he knows a storm is coming. “I love you more than anything.” He swallows. “You know that, right?”
I nod, and a tear skates down my cheek. “I do.” He wipes my tears like he always does. “I-I-I think it would be best if we went our separate ways.”
You are a trigger. He deserves a life where he can forget the past, not look at it every day.
Max doesn’t need this right now.
You’re holding him back.
If you love him, you’ll do what’s best for him after this fight.
His head jolts back. “Come again?”
“I’m falling apart at the seams, Max. One minute, I’m learning I’m adopted, then the next, my entire existence feels fabricated.
Before I can even process that, I’m snatched by some crime boss, and before I know it, I’m staring at hospital ceiling tiles while my brain floods with memories I never knew I had.
” I drop his hand and step back. “I don’t know what name to go by—Sol or Rainey?
I’m confused. You call me Sol at times. And sometimes it feels right, but other times it’s like, who is she?
I need to rediscover myself, my past.” A crazed laugh bubbles out of me. “I’m lost.”
Max slips off the stool and pulls me in by my waist. I can’t tell if his eyes are glassy or if it’s the tears in my eyes that have me seeing cloudy. He exhales. “I’m sorry for everything you are going through. I feel selfish forcing this all on you.”
“You didn’t—”
“I did. For so long, I wanted you to remember every part of me, of us. It pissed me off that your adoptive parents didn’t tell you the truth.
I wanted you to remember the life you had before you lost your memory.
There were times I thought it was better you didn’t remember because you looked happy.
You had a cushy lifestyle. And all I ever wanted for you was happiness.
But deep down, I wanted you for myself.” Those last words come in a pained whisper.
Max pins me in place as I try to wiggle out of his hold. I can’t do this with him so near that I can smell his cologne and mint on his breath. “I…I need time to work on myself, Max. Please understand.”
“Why can’t we do this together?”
Because you deserve better. Because you deserve a woman who has her head on straight. A woman who won’t have you reminisce about your past. A woman who will make you forget it all.
I don’t say all this. Instead, I press my lips onto his, just like he did years ago when he left me to better himself. Now it’s my turn.
“We can’t. Not together. You have a lot on your plate.”
“Fuck that. I need you like I need air.”
Tears swim in my vision. With the back of my hand, I wipe the tears and my running nose. “Can you promise me something?”
“It depends on what it is.” His voice sounds like it was dragged across broken glass.
“If you...” I swallow, my voice shaky. “Ever find someone who is good for you, who will love every piece of you, hold on to her. Love her. Let her in, honey. Don’t build those walls you’re good at.
You’re a good man, Max. Any good woman is lucky to have you.
I’m sorry, it’s not me. I’ll never be the person who holds a candle to your heart.
” I push the last words out. “You’ll see. ”
“My love.”
“Promise me,” I beg. I bring my pinky finger in front of him. He looks at it and turns away. A tear is about to fall, but he catches it in time.
He nods and then hooks his pinky in mine. “I promise.”
Daisy stretches when she gets off her bed in the living room, walking toward me. She whines. I’m sure she can feel the tension.
“O-okay.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “Good, you deserve happiness.” A fire burns in my chest, licking at the edge of what soul I have left.