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I eye him for a beat before Addie and I leave; the bell dinging behind us as we walk out onto the street. “Is it me, or was he hiding something?” Addie is the queen of reading situations. I’m usually the one that tells her she’s imagining things.
“Definitely hiding something.”
I inspect my tattoo again, making sure he didn’t add anything. It looks exactly like the drawing. I shrug, not giving it too much thought. So what if someone else has this? They won’t have the same story behind it, that’s for sure.
Chapter Nine
Sydney
I tap on the door lightly with my knuckles, a small part of me hoping he’s not here. Blowing out a breath when I hear noises on the other side of the cream-colored door, I get ready to face Max. Folding and unfolding my arms, I settle with them by my side. My stomach flip-flops at the sight of him. He stands tall, holding onto the door and stares down at me.
“Hi,” I say, my voice barely a hushed whisper.
“Hey.”
I sigh from his lack of words. “Can I come in?”
After two quiet awkward beats, he nods and pushes the door open. He stays quiet as I walk under his arm and shuts the door behind me. The couch in the living room is an ugly light orange color with two yellow chairs next to it. When I found out where he was staying, it surprised me it wasn’t a higher-end hotel. I sit on the stiff orange cushion and watch him swing a kitchen table chair into the room, sitting on it backward.
“Why are you hiding out?” And in a shitty hotel like this? I keep that thought to myself. Now isn’t the time to bring up his terrible choice of hotels.
“You’re fighting your demons, Tink. I’m fighting mine.” He looks away from my questioning expression.
“I guess… I’m your demon then?” I swallow, surprised by his words and reaction.
His lips crack a small smile and he shakes his head. “No, you are definitely not a demon.”
“Then what is? Talk to me, Max.”
For every time he’s been there for me, I’d like to think I can return the favor.
He pops out of his chair and takes quick strides to the fridge, grabbing a beer out of it. As he leans against the counter, his gaze finally meets mine. “The idea of you. Of us.” His fingers run through his hair haphazardly and my thoughts go back to when my fingers did that. Dammit, Sydney. Stop. It’s been two years since we’ve been together. And now a river of guilt that flows over a dead man runs between us. Words have escaped my mind. Deep down, I wondered if I was the reason Max was staying away this week. Yet, here I am, questioning him. Punishing both of us when we can never be.
“I couldn’t do it,” he responds, pausing for a quick drink. His arms straight as boards as he leans against the counter and drops his head. “Even knowing how your absence was killing Addison, I still couldn’t tell her where you were. I’m a selfish bastard because as soon as I told her, she would have dragged you home, and I’d be right back where I was when you left me in LA.”
Nervously, I lick my dry lips, unsure I want to know the answer, but I ask anyway. “Which was?”
He looks up, the raw hurt glittering in his blue eyes. “Broken from guilt.”
I shove off the couch and move toward him. The counter divides us and I grip the edge. “Max, you did nothing wrong. Why did you feel guilty?”
“Someday I might tell you, but not today.” He downs the rest of his beer and slams the empty bottle on the counter causing me to jump at the sharp sound. When he passes me, I reach out, grabbing his arm, halting him. The air grows thick with desperation. Frustration. Uncertainty.
He stares down at my wrist, the tattoo shiny from the ointment and his jaw tightens. “Sydney.” The unspoken demand to let go should frighten me, but it doesn’t. I squeeze tighter in defiance.
“Don’t walk away,” I whisper. His bicep twitches. It was the wrong thing to do. I should have let him walk away. Why do I keep doing this? The uncertainty of us doesn’t need to be defined. Not now. Not ever.
It can’t be.
He finally lifts his gaze from my wrist, meeting mine. In a quick spin, he has me pinned against the counter; the edge digging into my back.
“What do you want from me, Tink? Does knowing that I dreamt about your glacier blue eyes every night make a difference? That I owned you. That you owned me. That my dreams became my worst nightmare because you weren’t mine, you were one of my best friend’s fiancée? That I wished it was me instead of him, you said I love you to? And now he’s not here, I’m drowning in guilt because I. Still. Want. You. I can’t compete with a ghost. Nothing I say will make this right, so please, tell me what you want to hear.”
His forehead rests on the top of my head, his emotions vibrate through my body. The erratic beat of my heart pounds against my chest, making me question why. Is it from his words or my guilt?
I swallow, my words barely a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He shoves off the counter and walks away, taking my vulnerability with him, annoyance taking its place. “You made it clear we were a one-night stand, so where is this coming from, Max?”
He told Damon we were nothing. It hurt at first, but I dealt with it. We were two friends who got together after an emotional night. Even though I saw his jealous looks, I pushed them aside, thinking he wanted me because I was with Damon. Screw that. I wasn’t about to entertain his brooding ways because he changed his mind after the fact. It was too late.
