Chapter 8 Lily
LILY
Don’t freak out.
“Shit,” I hiss as a throbbing pain shoots through the inside of my cheek, and a metallic taste hits my tongue.
Admittedly, a tiny part of me would like to hear what the guys are arguing about. I have a slight suspicion that it could have to do with me. Hence why, the other, much bigger part of my brain wants to bolt off to spare myself further embarrassment.
Looking around the small room, my gaze catches on a hole in the wall and on a door leading to what must be the hallway. From inside the run-down bathroom, their voices are less muffled but still far enough away to make trying the handle seem like a good idea.
The door doesn’t open, and the voices fall silent.
Worst possible outcome.
So, like the non-confrontational adult I am, I go for the next best option: hiding in a bathroom stall.
There’s no way I’ll go back out there, where I have to look at Max and Logan once they return to the room.
I need to get the chaos inside of me under control before I even start thinking about any kind of interaction.
What I’m feeling is not only concerning but also wrong.
Fear and attraction should not lie this close together, and feeling the rough hands of a man who threatened to hurt me just hours ago on me should definitely not cause a reaction like mine, where anxiety pooled in my stomach—until it turned into something else.
The sound of approaching footsteps doesn’t help my racing heart or thoughts.
“Everything okay in there?” Max asks, knocking on the door of my hideout.
“Honest answer?”
“Always, Lily.”
Well, no answer then.
After giving me a minute to not answer, Max clears his throat.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Are you gonna come out?”
“Do I have to?” I ask, counting all the tiny blood stains on my jeans.
“Yep,” Max says, and the lock turns.
I keep my gaze fixed on the floor as he grabs my hand and pulls me out of the stall with ease, making me more than aware of the difference in strength between us.
He leads me out of the bathroom, over to the inflatable mattress he and Logan must have brought here for me, pushing me down until I’m seated.
“We need to talk about it,” he says, crouching before me so we’re face to face. “I’m sorry. I should have—“
“Can you give me some time to think about—this?” I interrupt him.
He runs his fingers through his hair while his free hand rests on mine.
“You’re still missing a lot of context,” he says, and I sigh. “Like, 95 percent of the whole deal.”
“And I really need a few hours to think about the five percent I’ve just discovered,” I say, finally finding the courage to meet his gaze. “Please, Max.”
“Just promise me one thing,” he says as he puts his hand on my cheek, forcing me to keep eye contact.
Funny how the same touch can feel so vastly different.
“Don’t try to leave this room. You won’t get far either way, but it would make things unnecessarily complicated. For you, mainly,” he says, quickly adding, “since we’re on a military base.”
And there it is again. A darkness in his gaze, disappearing so quickly I’m questioning my judgment.
“Try to get some rest. We’ll talk later,” he says, leaving the room and taking the minuscule sliver of calm and warmth I’ve felt with him.
He locks the door, and I let myself fall back on the mattress with a heavy sigh.
Slowly, the severity of the situation sets in.
Apart from Max and his unhinged colleague, no one knows I’m here.
They could keep me here forever, locked in this room, able to do whatever they want to me—and the worst part is it’s not just fear that makes my heart race when I think about it.
I wake up with a scream and a startled Max, who puts his hand over my mouth to silence me. How naive for me to think I could sleep away my conflicting feelings. It didn’t work, and the way Max smiles at me doesn’t help either.
“Got settled in? Calmed down a little?” he asks, letting go of my face.
“Yes, and no, not really,” I answer. He opens his mouth to say something, and I’d do anything to avoid the scary conversation waiting for me, so why not start by complaining about the amenities?
“The showers back there don’t work.”
“I know,” he says. “Just shower in my room.” His grin is horribly charming and just a tiny bit mischievous. Before I can protest, he takes my hand and leads me out of the room down a dark hallway. “I hope you like pasta, because I made some for you.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, wondering where the catch is. Can you lace pasta?
When we reach the second floor, I stop in my tracks.
“Everyone’s asleep, don’t worry,” he says, pushing me out of the stairwell and further into the building until we arrive in front of a wooden door. “My room’s a bit messy. Sorry, it’s not often that I have a lady over.”
He invites me in, and I have a hard time hiding my surprise because his room is anything but messy. Messy awaited me back home whenever I was gone for a few days, not the little stuff lying around in Max’s quarters.
Worn clothes are thrown over a gaming chair that matches the backlit mouse and keyboard. Small light sources are scattered everywhere, and while they make the room look incredibly cozy, I still have to look up at the ceiling to check if this man even has a big light.
Max shoves a pair of muddy combat boots into a corner, pushing over a lava lamp. The walls are plastered with pictures and movie posters, and it feels less like a barracks room and more like a real home.
It smells of vanilla, sandalwood, and a hint of spice, the same as the hoodie he gave me yesterday. I used the hoodie as a pillow because the scent was so comforting, and I pray Max didn’t notice it when he woke me up.
Who am I kidding? He definitely noticed.
“I’ve got body wash, shampoo, and conditioner in my shower. Feel free to use whatever you need. We’ll write a list later once we’ve cleared a few things up.”
“A list of what?” I ask, ignoring the other part.
“Of the things Charlie has to get for you,” Max says, laughing like this was obvious. “What scent you like and all that stuff. You do seem like a vanilla girl, though.” He winks at me, and I wonder if we’re still talking about scents. “Apricot or peach, if you’re feeling adventurous.”
Spot on, in every aspect.
Max turns the bathroom light on and dims it, but before he leaves, he opens the door of the cabinet under his sink.
“Toothbrushes and toothpaste are down here. No, I’m not couponing; I just won a lifetime supply a few years ago. Crossword Puzzle King 2019.”
The grin on his face is contagious.
“A man of many talents,” I say, feeling the tension in my body dissipating slightly.
“Just wait until you see what other talents I have.”
I act as if I don’t know how to turn the shower on because I’d rather have him think I’m a dumbass than let him see the bright red hue on my cheeks.
He explains the temperature setting to me, but I’m a little too focused on how his bicep flexes, and when he finally leaves the bathroom, I lock the door with a deep exhale.
Undressing in an almost stranger’s bathroom feels weird. Still, my stuff lies folded on the bathroom floor, and my wedding band sits on the sink. Hidden behind the faucet because, for whatever reason, I can’t stand to look at it.
I step into the shower, and as warm water washes over me, every bruise on my body comes to life, making it feel like one big ache. So I take my time, carefully spreading suds over my body until the stream of water feels soothing instead of painful.
I also hope Max forgets about the pending conversation if I stay here long enough.
Steam fills the small bathroom, the shower curtain sticking to my skin as I lean over and reach for the towel Max hung on the door for me.
“Here.”
My scream turns into an embarrassing croak as I remember where I am and that alerting the other inhabitants of the building is something I do not want. Hastily, I take the towel from Max and wrap it around myself before I step out of the shower.
“How long have you been here?” I ask, struggling to keep my composure.
“A minute or two,” he says, looking at me with such an innocent expression it’s physically impossible to be mad at him. “Thought I’d bring you some clean clothes.”
“What about mine?” I look for my stuff that is coincidentally nowhere to be found.
“Gonna wash them for you.”
I step toward him to grab the clothes he’s holding, and his brows furrow, his gaze fixed on my shoulder.
“Fuck,” Max mutters, throwing everything in the sink. With his now free hands, he pulls me close, looking worried when he examines the deep purple bruise that spreads from my shoulder down to my back.
“Did we do this to you?”
“I don’t think so,” I say quietly, staring at his chest. “Must have happened when the guy Logan shot fell down on me.”
“Good thing he’s dead,” Max says, brushing a strand of hair out of my face before he hooks his fingers under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Because I’d have to kill anyone who tries to hurt you.”
The butterflies in my stomach pressure me to confront the fact that I am maybe a tiny bit attracted to this man.
“Arms up,” he orders, snapping me out of my trance. He pulls a shirt over my head, handing me a pair of sweatpants and socks once he’s done. “I guess you want to put these on by yourself,” he says, grinning when I give him a look.
Max is lounging on his bed as I leave the bathroom, gesturing me to join him.
“You want to talk or eat first?” he asks.
“Talk,” I say, despite being hungry. But my stomach doesn’t take stress well, and I fear what Max will tell me is going to cause me a lot of stress.
“Fine with me,” he says. Once I stand in front of his bed, he pulls me down until I’m sitting next to him, our thighs touching.
“So… I’ve been a little obsessed with you since I saw you for the first time.” His grip tightens, making it impossible to squirm away. “Don’t panic, not in an ‘I want to wear your skin’ way.”
“Ah, glad to hear that,” I blurt out, making him laugh. “What does this have to do with Logan, though? And while we’re already at it, why on earth did he ask me to open my mouth?”
“Well, probably because he wanted you to open your mouth.” He shrugs. “Logan’s pretty straightforward.”
“Not funny, Max,” I say, nudging his side.
“It’s complicated. No, it’s actually not. Look, Logan and I like to share.”
Share me how exactly? Maybe Max watches while the deranged one kills me?
“You’re still with me?” he asks, softly squeezing my waist.
“Mhm.” I will not speak until I am sure I won’t dig my own grave deeper than it already is.
“I want you. Same goes for Logan. And you want to stay here, so why not make this work out in a way all of us profit from.”
I must have fallen down in the shower. Knocked myself out cold, and now I’m dreaming about a fantasy I should stick back in the nu-uh drawer at the back of my head where it had escaped from.
Feverishly, I try to come up with a list of pros and cons.
Sure, I could tell Max I don’t want to stay with them, especially not under these conditions.
Ask him to drive me home, where I can spend time in my destroyed house, and wait until the bright red target on my back turns into a bullet hole in my head.
Of course, I’d have to take care of Brady’s mess in the meantime; if I find a lawyer who lets me pay with invisible money.
Or I could accept all these new and confusing feelings and make the best of it. I almost died a few days ago, so what if this is the universe’s way of telling me to change my life?
I guess it took me too long to react because Max turns my head toward him, and suddenly, his lips are dangerously close to mine.
I lean away, should probably leave the country while I still can, but instead, I look from his eyes to his lips.
Mesmerized, and incredibly stupid as I shut my eyes and wait for him to close the distance between us.
He doesn’t. Not even after I count to three in my head. Twice.
Why is there no magic spell to make the floor open up and swallow me whole? I would also take a meteor, a collapsing building, or a sun storm because I’m sure I reached the highest level of embarrassment the human body can tolerate.
And Max—Max laughs before giving me a soft kiss on my forehead. Leaving me confused, wanton, abashed, and horribly self-conscious—a new combination of feelings I could have lived without.
“Can I go hide in the bathroom again, please? Forever, or just until you’re asleep, whatever works for you.”
He ignores my rambling and pulls me in his lap, laughing when he sniffs my hair.
“You smell like me. I like it,” he whispers, and I allow myself to lean into his touch.
“And I’d love to kiss you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over my neck.
“I can barely think about anything else since I’ve met you, but Logan wouldn’t be too happy about it.
You should also think about what I’ve told you first. Decide if you’re okay with it, and tomorrow, we’ll talk about it together with Logan. Sounds good, baby?”
Sure, because I was already so calm and collected talking about the topic with Max.
“Yeah,” I reply quietly, trying hard to ignore the heat building in my stomach.