Page 110 of Downforce

“Yes,” I confirm. “I didn’t want to bring it up,” I add quickly. “But my brain makes all of these connections and is particularly adept at pulling out the most painful scenario and harping on it until it turns into obsessions that lead to compulsions.”

“What are your obsessions saying?”

I push out a breath. “That I’m a despicable person for playing hurt given what you witnessed as a child. That I hurt you by reenacting a painful memory to win a race that wasn’t even real. And that when you say your feelings weren’t hurt you were just lying.”

“That’s heavy.” The way he says it makes me crack a smile. “I thought OCD was extra handwashing and being ridiculously neat.”

I scoff. “Most people do. If a few extra hand washes were all it was …” I trail off, not wanting to go into the history and hours of my life I’ve lost due to the compulsions I felt forced to do in order to question the obsessions.

“What do you need from me?”

My body goes completely stiff. I turn the words over in my mind, making sure I heard them accurately.

What do I need from him?

“Yes,” he says, making me aware that I’d repeated the question out loud. “Is it reassurance that you haven’t offended me? That I delighted in seeing your competitive side come out? That I adored losing that race because I got to hear you laugh?”

My heart dissolves into a puddle. I dip my head because I’m not ready for him to see how I feel about him written all over my face.

Max crooks a finger under my chin, though, lifting my head to meet his face.

“What do you need from me, Annalise? To reassure you again?”

I shake my head. “No,” I say, my voice a little hoarse. “I need you to answer the question once. Truthfully. And then,” I push out a harsh breath, “don’t answer it again if I ask.”

I grit my teeth before continuing.

“The worst thing for my obsessions is to indulge them. It’s easier for me with the medication and years of therapy and treatment, but sometimes they slip through. So, if you ever find me asking the same thing over and over again for reassurance, as difficult as it might be, the best thing you can do for me is to not answer me. Answer once, truthfully,” I emphasize.

An almost pained expression crosses Max’s face.

I know what that expression means because it’s the same one my parents and siblings gave me when I explained to them how my therapist told me to approach my treatment.

Because my family loves me, they always wanted to reassure me, to ease my anxieties and obsessions. It took more than a few conversations, with and without a trained therapist, to let them know that indulging my obsessions over and over only made things worse.

“Then I won’t answer again,” Max says before lowering his head to kiss me.

CHAPTER 30

Max

She is so fucking beautiful.

This is the only thought strumming through my mind as I look down at Annalise standing before me at the foot of my bed. It’s only recently occurred to me for how long I’ve wanted her.

As I cup her face in my hands, bringing our bodies flush against one another, I know the wait was worth it. Looking into her gaze, seeing the emotions swirling in her eyes—emotions I’m certain she’s not even aware of—all I want to do is kiss away the doubts that darken its shine.

Some of them have to do with the lingering questions about whether she hurt my feelings earlier at the racetrack. I don’t know much about OCD, but from the moment she opened up to me about what was happening in her head, I wanted to take away the torment I witnessed in her eyes.

From what I saw tonight, it goes beyond a few extra handwashes but also helps me understand more about her.

“Annalise,” I say above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“You’re staying with me tonight. In my bed,” I add. “There’s not a chance in hell I’m letting you get up and walk away from me to go back to your flat.”

Right now I don’t give a shit that her entire family is in town. Or that her little sister is staying with her and probably well aware that Annalise is seeing someone.