17

NOW

Maxie woke up on Charlie's leather sofa. Had she fallen asleep? It was almost one in the morning, her legs were up, she was wrapped in a blanket. He must have covered her before going to bed. She considered just lying there, going back to sleep. She knew Charlie wouldn't mind. And then she wouldn't have to face Van.

But her cell phone had six missed calls; one from Bea, the rest from Van.

With a sigh, she sat up, folded her blanket, and quietly crept out of Charlie's apartment to head home. She trudged slowly, hoping that by the time she arrived Van would already be asleep. Van and Isaac both. Or better yet, maybe Isaac wouldn't be there at all. He'd been acting so strange lately. Walking past her without a word. Barely looking her in the eye. And if anyone ever brought up Gnar, he would simply get up and walk away.

Bea had suggested that maybe he was jealous, but Maxie knew what Isaac's jealousy looked like. It was more possessive, not cold. After months of treating him with the same icy aloofness, Maxie was beginning to feel bad. And anxious. She hated for him to be upset with her, for any reason, especially when she didn't know what the reason was.

She arrived home just after two AM, and to her surprise, Isaac and Gnar were on the street approaching the building from the opposite direction. Isaac's eyes widened when he saw her, and Gnar looked instantly pleased. He came forward, swaying a bit, and took her in his arms. His weight on her so abruptly made her stumble back a few steps, but he held her tightly around the waist. "Hi, beautiful," he slurred. "Where are you coming from so late? Not a date, I hope."

"What kind of date lasts 'til two in the morning, Gnar?"

He grinned. "The best kind."

She rolled her eyes. "You're drunk."

"I had a few beers with the boys," he admitted. "It was a friend's birthday."

Maxie peered around him at Isaac, who simply stood there, watching them with an indecipherable look in his eyes. "Did you have a few beers?"

"I was the designated driver," he said, holding up his car keys.

She looked back at Gnar. "How are you getting home?"

"Taxi," he said, still grinning as his eyes swam over her face. "You look so pretty."

"Why didn't you just catch one from the bar?"

"Because," Isaac replied for him. "He wanted to come back here and see you." Without waiting for a response, he went into the building. Maxie looked up at Gnar. He was still holding her tightly.

"Is that true?"

"That is true."

She couldn't help but smile. What was it about Gnar that made her smile, even when she didn't want to? Maybe it was the same thing that Isaac possessed, the thing that made her love him, even when she didn't want to. "You should get home and get some rest."

"I will. Now I can sleep well."

"Don't try to sweet talk me, Daniel."

He chuckled. "Is it working? Is it making you want me?"

"You're drunk."

"I know." His smile faded, he bit down on his bottom lip. Maxie inhaled deeply, tearing her eyes away from his mouth. "I want to kiss you," he admitted. "But I won't."

She looked up at him. "Why not?" she asked, before her brain could even comprehend the question. The words simply fell off of her tongue.

"Because I'm drunk. And though I doubt I could ever forget kissing you, I want our first one to be perfect. Not sloppy, or beer ridden, or at all inadequate."

She narrowed her eyes. "Who says we'll have a first one?"

He smiled, that same arrogant grin that made his eyes sparkle with confidence and mischief. She was beginning to appreciate that smile of his. "We will," he assured her. "Soon."

And with that, he planted a swift peck on her mouth and let her go, turning away to flag down a passing taxi.

Isaac woke up with a start. Still a bit disoriented from sleep, he peered around the dark room. Van's room, he quickly remembered. She was beside him, sleeping soundly, her head on his chest, her arms and her legs and her everything wrapped around him. Untangling himself from her long limbs, he slid out from beneath the sheets, careful not to wake her, and made his way out of the room.

The apartment was dark and still, engulfed in early morning silence. It was almost peaceful, he thought. If only it were always so tranquil. If only the air was always so clear, so empty, not thick with tension and questions and words unspoken. Sometimes he wasn't even sure what kept him there at all. But the answer always came to him as quickly as the question.

He stayed to find out what had brought him there in the first place. Who had.

He used the bathroom and on his way back to the bedroom, paused. "Isaac," someone called. It sounded faint, far away, but he was sure he heard correctly. Then it came again. "Isaac."

He peered around the darkness, and then his eyes settled on the door beside him. Maxie's door.

"Isaac," she called. "Isaac."

Pushing her door open, he stepped inside. Just like the rest of the apartment, her room was dark and quiet. Maxie lay in her bed, sheets pushed down to her hips, arms outstretched. She groaned, stirred, but remained asleep. Isaac took another step toward her. Had he been hearing things?

She inhaled sharply, groaned again. "Maxie," Isaac whispered. He went to her side, gently shook her. "Max, wake up."

Her eyes fluttered open. She blinked, peered around the room and then back up at him. "Isaac?"

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Puzzled, she rose up onto her elbows. "I'm fine."

"Oh. Alright. I'm sorry, I was just leaving the bathroom and I could have sworn I heard you call me."

"I was asleep," she replied.

Even through the darkness, she could see his eyes meet hers. "Dreaming?" he said, softly.

She had been dreaming. Dreaming about him, as she did nearly every night. Barely audibly, she said, "Yes."

He nodded and turned to leave, but stopped when he reached the door and turned back to her. She was still sitting up, still watching him. "Anything good?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to reply but then shut it again.

"Never mind," he said. "Good night."

Isaac emerged from Van's bedroom to find Maxie sweeping the kitchen floor. Only she wasn't sweeping at all. Classical music blared from her ear buds, her eyes were closed, and she twirled around the room as if the broom were her dance partner. Leaning against the sofa, he crossed his arms over his chest and watched her with a small grin. When did he ever see her so relaxed? Never. Not even when she was asleep.

Though it seemed he was the one disturbing her dreams. Every night, he found himself pausing at her bedroom door whenever he passed it, just to listen for his name again. He'd heard it twice more since that first night.

On her tiptoes, Maxie glided across the kitchen, spun round, again and again, paused, leaned back, further back, further, and further still, until her leg reached all the way up, her toes pointing toward the ceiling. After a moment, she slowly lowered her leg and rose to a standing position before her eyes slowly opened. Even then, she seemed to be lost in some faraway corner of her thoughts, staring aimlessly ahead.

At last, she blinked back into reality and raised her gaze to Isaac. She sucked in a sharp breath. "Van," she breathed.

Van? Isaac's brows furrowed, and then he realized that Maxie wasn't looking at him at all. He spun around to see Van standing at her bedroom door, leaning against the frame. Stepping forward, she clapped slowly, a tight smile on her mouth.

"Bravo, Max."

Maxie's eyes went from Van to Isaac and then back to Van. "I didn't realize I had an audience," she said.

"Oh, yes," Van said, stopping beside Isaac. She looked up at him. "We were captivated. Weren't we, babe?"

He shrugged. "I was just on my way to shower."

With that, he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Maxie and Van by themselves.

Van turned back to her friend and gave her a onceover. "Can't you at least put some clothes on?" she spat.

Maxie was wearing a sports bra and leggings, the same thing she wore every Saturday while she cleaned. "Okay..." she replied, a bit taken aback.

Van went back into her bedroom and waited for Isaac to return from the shower. When he did, he was still spotted with water, wearing only a towel around his waist. Van glared at him. "Don't you think it's a little inappropriate to be walking around the house in just your towel?" she snapped.

He turned his nose up at her. "Stop. You sound like your mother."

"Well, maybe she's right." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Maybe she's right about a lot of things."

"What are you talking about, Van?"

Lowering her eyes, she said, "I'm talking about Maxie. Maybe her moving out isn't such a bad idea."

"You mean kick her out?"

"No," Van said, "of course I'm not going to just kick her out. Just encourage her to leave on her own."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Because, Isaac, we're a couple. This is a relationship. It's time we turn this place into our home, start building our lives together, without Maxie sleeping in the next room. Or dancing in the kitchen," she added.

"Our home? I don't even officially live here," he said.

"Maybe it's time we change that, too."

He shook his head and turned back to the dresser. "How about we just take some time and think it over?"

"That's what you said when you first came out of the hospital, and now it's months later. I've thought plenty about it, Isaac. It's time to move forward."

"And Maxie living here is holding us back?"

"Yes!" she cried. "It is! What am I supposed to think when I come out of my room and find my boyfriend staring at my best friend prancing around the place half naked?"

He whipped around to face her. "I don't know, Van, what do you think?" he demanded. Go ahead, accuse me of something I haven't even done. Give me a reason to do it.

Sighing, she said, "I just think that maybe jumping back into things like nothing ever happened was a mistake. We can't act like things are the same as they were before because they aren't. You're different," she said weakly. "And Maxie is different."

"And so we kick her out."

"She'll understand that we need space."

"It just doesn't seem right."

"She's an adult."

"Funny," he said, "I can clearly remember you telling your mother to pretty much fuck off when she'd said the same thing."

Dropping her gaze, she said, "Like I said, maybe she was right."

"What are you worried about, Van?"

Plopping down at the end of the bed, she let her head fall in her hands and ran her fingers through her hair. "I just want our relationship to be ours. Since we met, I've felt like I'm sharing you with Maxie. It's never you and I, Isaac, it's always the three of us. And I realize that it's my fault. I'm the one that included her in everything, considered her when maybe I should have only considered us, thought about her before I thought about you. It's just, I spent so much of my life doing everything I could to make sure she didn't feel like an outsider, I didn't know where to draw the line. But now I do."

Isaac was torn. Maybe Van was right. He was consumed by Maxie, inexplicably and unnervingly so. He looked forward to seeing her as much as he looked forward to seeing Van, even more so at times. She plagued his thoughts, his dreams, the few memories he had left. The moment she had walked into his hospital room holding those blue flowers, forget-me-nots, something had shifted inside of him. Something so foreign, yet strangely—comfortingly—familiar. From that moment, she had him.

But how could he just discard her? How could Van keep her so close for so long and then, without even a warning, shove her away? And why? Her own insecurities? It just didn't seem right. "I don't know, Van," he said, shaking his head.

He couldn't understand how—or why—Maxie determined the course of their whole relationship. And even worse, he couldn't understand why the thought of not living under the same roof as her anymore, the thought of not seeing her face every day before he went to bed, aroused a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't ignore.

"We can move forward," he said, at last. "I'll move in. Officially."

Van's face lit up, her full lips formed a wide smile. "You will?"

"But," he went on, "We're not kicking Maxie out." She exhaled heavily, instantly deflated. "We can't let her, or anyone else, dictate how we live our lives. If she's the reason behind any of the decisions we make, then that's our fault, not hers. We can't punish her. And we can't just kick her out. She's your family, Van. And you're hers. Her only family."

Bowing her head, Van nodded. "You're right."

He gently pulled her forehead to his lips. "Hey. Relax, now. Stop crying," he said, hardly able to keep the tremor from his voice. "We're roommates."

 

THEN

Maxie pushed open the door of Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym and stormed inside. For the first time, she had no regard for the dozens of lustful eyes that fell on her as she made her way through the room. Spotting him in his office, she marched angrily across the room and burst inside. "You hit him?" she cried.

Isaac and the man he was talking to—Daniel Gnar was his name—both looked up from their conversation. Isaac forced a tight grin. "Will you excuse us?" he asked his friend.

Eyeing Maxie, Gnar nodded and left the office, shutting the door behind him. Isaac reached over and lowered the blinds over the large window looking out on the rest of the gym. "Maxie," he said evenly, sitting back on the edge of the desk. "Why don't you sit?"

"No, I'm not going to sit! Alex told me you showed up to his apartment and attacked him!"

"I wouldn't say I attacked him. I barely touched him."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "His nose is broken."

"Well," Isaac said. "I guess I don't know my own strength."

With a sigh, Maxie said, "I can't believe you. Why would you do that, Isaac?"

"Why do you think, Max?"

She moved closer to him, stopping just at the corner of his desk where he was perched. "How do you think that looks? You, Van's boyfriend, defending me that way."

"Truthfully," he said, still no emotion in his tone, "I don't give a shit what it looks like. After hearing him talk to you like that, seeing him grab you, and then your legs from the sauce hitting you..." He paused, his nostrils flared as he exhaled heavily. "He's lucky all he got was a broken nose."

"Isaac—"

"Quite frankly, Max, I'm pretty proud of myself, actually. Do you remember that darkness I told you about? The darkness in my heart? Well, you can imagine the dark urges that came from it. I wanted to wring his fucking neck."

"But you punched him instead."

"I only punched him instead. Because of you. Because I didn't want you to be too upset with me." With a small grin, he said, "I guess you're like my light, Maximilienne."

For a moment, Maxie didn't reply. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. She wanted to smile. She wanted to fall in his embrace. But she remained upright and didn't soften her glare. "What if Van were to find out? What would she think?"

"Like I said, I really don't care." He remained so calm, yet so intent. He meant it, she knew. He meant every word of it. Clearing her throat, she said, softly, "You can't be this way. I'm not your girlfriend, Isaac."

"And yet," he said, his gaze boring into her, "here you are."

He stood and took a step toward her. She took a step back.

"Look at me," he said.

Don't do it. You'll be finished. Don't do it. She looked up at him. He took another step toward her. This time, she didn't move.

"I don't care what you are, or what you think you aren't. I'm not going to stop being this way. And the next time he touches you will be the last time he uses his hands. So if you're so worried about what Van or anyone else will think, I suggest you tread carefully around Alex—or any other motherfucker—who might ever be tempted to hurt you."

Dropping her head, she nodded. Isaac kissed her crown. "Did you come all the way here just to yell at me?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted.

"I'll walk you out then."

He escorted her to the exit before stealing another kiss from her.

 

When she was gone, Isaac returned to his office, where Gnar waited for him.

"Lovers' quarrel?" he asked.

"Mind your business, Gnar," Isaac replied without looking at him.

"Oh, c'mon now. Don't be secretive. Who is she?"

"Here's the thing. Who she is doesn't matter. What she is matters. And what she is is off limits. Got it?"

Gnar smirked. "I see the way you look at her."

"I see the way you look at her. Off limits, Daniel. Leave it alone."

Unfazed, Gnar nodded. "You got it, boss."

 

That night, Maxie dreamt of her mother. She was back in the house she grew up in, standing in her mother's bedroom as Noelle sat on the bed, pouring handfuls of pills into her palms before stuffing them into her mouth. Maxie watched. She could do nothing but watch. Her limbs were frozen, her mouth was shut tight, but on the inside she was screaming.

She woke with a start, the ache of her helplessness still sitting on her chest. She exhaled heavily, shut her eyes tightly, tried to push away the lingering knot in the pit of her stomach. Then, her bedroom door opened, and Isaac appeared. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he stole across the room and slid into bed beside her.

If that dream hadn't fully awakened her already, she was certainly awake now. Her heart pounded against her chest, it felt as if the temperature in the room went up a few degrees. Isaac was in bed with her, under the blankets with her, reaching for her while she only wore panties and a tee-shirt, and he was just in boxer briefs. He pulled her against his bare chest, kissed her as his hands went up the back of her shirt to caress her bare back.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, pulling away.

He gently pushed her down flat on the mattress and shifted his weight on top of hers. Her heart hammered against her chest. What was happening? And why, why couldn't she find her voice to stop it? This is wrong. This is crossing the line. Stop before it's too late. Just say no. But instead, she spread her legs for him, opened her arms to him, threw back her head so he could plant soft, moist kisses on her neck.

She moaned as he trailed his fingers up her belly and palmed her breast.

"Sh-h," he said against her mouth. "Don't make a sound, Max..." His voice trailed off, but his hands didn't stop moving, his lips, his tongue, they never stopped moving.

She ran her hands up his big arms, down his muscular back, kissed his neck and his shoulders, bit down on her bottom lip to hold back her cries of pleasure as he lifted her shirt and lowered his mouth to her chest. His hands went around her thighs and found their way inside of her panties, where they lingered. She moaned loudly as his lips and his fingers moved in sync with one another. He lifted his head to look into her face through the darkness. "Be quiet," he instructed, watching her wiggle and contort beneath him. "Be quiet or I'll have to stop."

No. She didn't want that. She didn't want him to ever stop. She imagined she could have lain there forever while he kissed and caressed and licked and fondled her. She buried her face in the curve of his neck as his fingers played beneath the thin fabric of her panties.

He kissed the side of her face, licked her ear, nibbled gently on her lobe. "Sh-h," he crooned, holding her tighter. "Sh-h-h, Maxie, sh-h."

But she couldn't hold back any of her cries, whimpers, moans or groans. She was breathing hard, thrusting against his hand as it controlled her body like a puppet master controlled his dolls. Isaac whispered to her, hushed her, spoke sweet nothings, half in English, half in French, chanted her name over and over. Every time she opened her eyes she felt as if the room was spinning, yet when she closed them again, she thought her body would combust from the inside out. Was it possible to feel too good?

She moaned again, louder. And louder. Too loud.

"Please be quiet," he quietly begged. "Please, Maximilienne, be quiet."

"You have to stop," she breathed.

"No," he replied, kissing her, and she moaned again. Suddenly, they heard shuffling in the next room.

Maxie's eyes shot open, Isaac quickly pulled away. He rolled over, and they lay perfectly still, completely silent, waiting to hear something else. After a moment or so, Maxie exhaled and Isaac turned to her. Kissing her one last time, he whispered, "We're going to have to work on that."

Her face reddened, and she smiled timidly.

"Next time," he whispered.

"Next time?"

He grinned. "You don't think I'm finished with you, do you? Oh, Maximilienne, I'm nowhere near finished with you. In fact, I've just begun."

 

The next morning, over breakfast, Maxie kept her eyes low, too embarrassed to look at Isaac and too ashamed to look at Van. She could feel Isaac looking at her, though. And he didn't seem the least bit ashamed. No, he was cheerful, elated even. He talked and laughed as they ate, even entertained some of Van's mundane prattle about her job, and her modeling, and herself, of course. But Maxie sat in silence, merely picking at her food, with her gaze averted the whole time.

She was immensely relieved when they finished breakfast and Isaac announced he would be leaving with Van. She stood and brought the dishes to the sink as Van headed toward the bathroom. And then, as soon as they were alone, Isaac was behind Maxie, spinning her around to face him. She peered around nervously, looking back toward the bathroom door every few seconds. Isaac wasn't worried, though. He held her and kissed her with no regard to getting caught. "It took me hours to fall back to sleep," he whispered to her. "I just kept thinking about you back in that bed, all alone, soft and wet and..."

"Maxie," Van said, coming out of the bathroom. Isaac stepped back and turned away just as she came into the kitchen, holding a small bottle. "Have you been using my moisturizer?"

"No," Maxie said, though she wondered if Van could see the guilt written across her face. I haven't used your moisturizer, but I might be in love with your boyfriend.

Van shrugged. "I guess I've been using more than I thought," she said, and went back to the bathroom.

When she was gone, Maxie turned to Isaac. "We have to stop, Isaac. We have to stop."

Smiling, he shook his head and reached for her again. "I can't. Now that I've started, I'll never stop."

But she didn't smile, and she pulled away from him. "I'm serious," she said. "This is wrong. You're with Van."

He let out a humorless chuckle and stepped back. "C'mon," he said, shaking his head. "I've never been with Van. Even when I'm physically with her, I'm not with her. Our whole fucking relationship is nothing but a pretense."

Maxie's brow's furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I want to be with you. I've wanted to be with you from the beginning. We both know it, Maxie. And we both know that you want to be with me, too, so why don't we just stop this fucking charade?"

"It's no charade! You're dating my best friend. Every day you wake up with her, you hug her, you kiss her, you go back to bed with her at night—"

"And why's that?" he demanded. "Because you told me to. Because that afternoon in the café, when I tried to do the right thing before this all went too far, you told me to date her, knowing how I really felt."

"Oh God," she said, shutting her eyes. "This has been such a mistake."

"Tell me about it."

She was shaking her head, as if to shake away her shame and confusion. As if to shake away every wrong decision she'd made in the months that had passed. "You should go," she said, at last. "Just leave."

"And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'll leave now, if you want me to, Max, but what about tomorrow?"

"No!" she said. "Leave and stay gone! You obviously don't care about her, so just go away!"

He chuckled. "Dump her? That's your idea of sparing her feelings?"

"It's better than leading her on."

"No. No, I haven't done all of this for nothing. I haven't spent all of this time pretending for nothing!"

"Isaac! She's my best friend. My sister. What do you want me to do? Are you going to just sneak in my room for ten minutes every night? Kiss me when she turns her back? Spend forever having secret dinners on the roof with me while she's at work?"

"Of course not," he said. "We're going to tell her the truth."

"Oh!" Maxie said, dropping her hand on her chest. "Just... Just tell her the truth. Just walk right in and tell her that I think I'm in lo—" She paused, anguish overcame her. "I'm just supposed to tell her...?"

"We'll do it together."

She shook her head again. "I can't do that to her. For so many reasons, I just can't."

"What reasons, Maxie? What reasons are so important that her happiness matters more than your own?"

"Well, for starters, our friendship would be ruined," she said.

"She'll forgive you."

Maxie scoffed. "She would never forgive me! And I would lose the only family that I have left!"

"You have me."

She let out a frustrated groan.

"Listen, I get it, okay? But that's even more reason for her to forgive you. You guys are family. Forgiveness comes with the territory."

"Loyalty does, too."

He shrugged. "Well, it's too late for that."

"No, it's not. I made a mistake, but I'm not going to intentionally hurt her. How could I be another person who lets her down?" She shook her head. Kept shaking it, shaking away the temptation and the emotions and the unremitting desire. "I just can't, Isaac. We can't."

"So that's it? We just walk away now? Pretend nothing ever happened?"

Lowering her eyes, she let out a barely audible, "Yes."

He chuckled with disbelief. "And you want me to break up with her."

"Yes."

"And leave you?"

"Yes."

He glared down at her for a moment, his brows furrowed, his jaw set. "No," he said. Her shoulders sank. She looked up at him and he shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said with a shrug. "No."