I brought my knees up to my chest and leaned my cheek against my leg, exhausted and angry. But I was also resolute.
Maxx licked his lips, his eyes drooping shut. He put a hand through his blond curls and then let his arm fall limply beside him. His head bobbed from side to side as though he was making sure he could still move it.
I found myself watching the rise and fall of his chest, scared that if I stopped looking, even for a moment, it would cease to move, that he would slip away quietly, without me realizing it.
Before I had the chance to fight for him. Because obviously he didn’t have the will to fight for himself.
This man wasn’t a casual user. He was slowly being eaten alive. It was like watching a car driving full speed toward a brick wall. The sinking feeling of helplessness I remembered all too well made me momentarily immobile.
I would fail him.
I would lose him, just as I had lost Jayme.
I was a fool to think I could make a difference for anybody.
I looked around the trashed room and sighed. I should leave him to this miserable cycle he lived in. I didn’t need to be mixed up in all of this. Brooks was right. My being here was inappropriate. The boundaries were already blurred.
And what would it matter anyway?
Maxx reached out and took my hand. “Stay,” he whispered. I shook my head. I couldn’t stay. Not after everything I’d seen. There was no place for me in his world.
“Please, Aubrey. Stay with me,” he pleaded. I turned back to him. His pupils were dilated, and I wasn’t sure if it was just the drugs or whether he had a concussion. I should have taken him to the hospital. He may have had broken bones. But I had allowed my good sense to be drowned out by the need to care for him. To do it all myself.
As if I had something to prove by making things right, all on my own.
I was scared to leave him in the state he was in. But I was scared to stay, knowing that if I did, that was it. I had stepped over that invisible line. And once I had done so, there was no turning back. It would be too late.
I stared down at Maxx, and he looked so young and vulnerable, his face devoid of its characteristic calculation and seductive allure. He seemed . . . innocent.
I wouldn’t leave him. I couldn’t walk out his door and pretend that this boy didn’t matter to me.
Already, he had become something important. Something I should never have allowed him to be. But that didn’t change the fact that he was.
I opened my mouth to agree to stay, but Maxx’s eyes were closed and his mouth drooped open. I found a blanket and draped it over him.
Then I lay down on the bed, wrapping my coat around myself, and watched him while he slept, each rise and fall of his chest binding me to him in a way that frightened me with its totality.
There was no leaving him.
I had made my choice.
I just hoped it was the right one.
Chapter eighteen
maxx
my chest felt tight, and my head screamed in agony. Every joint, every limb, ached and burned. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. I felt sick to my stomach, and bile rose up in the back of my throat.
I was going to puke.
I tried to lift my head, but even that small movement set off a wave of nausea that quickened the vomit rising up my throat.
I rolled onto my side and retched. And then I retched again. And just for good measure I retched some more.
I moaned, rolling onto my side. I had the sense to know I was on my bedroom floor, though how I had gotten here was a good question. Everything after I had arrived at Compulsion last night was a complete blank.
There were flashes here and there of things I think I’d prefer to forget.
I tried to hoist myself up onto the bed, but instead I started to dry heave. My face and the back of my neck were slick with sweat. The acrid smell of my puke filled my nostrils, and I started to shudder with the need to spew again.
“Jeesh,” I heard someone mutter, followed by a pair of cool hands on my upper arms as they pulled me back onto the bed. I recognized the voice, though my fuzzy mind couldn’t connect the dots.
I tried to open my eyes but found only one of them was working. Shit, why couldn’t I get my f**king eye open?
I started panicking. I slowly patted my face and hissed in pain as my fingers made contact with very raw flesh.
Christ, I was going to be sick again.
“Hold on,” the voice urged. There was no holding on to anything. I opened my mouth to throw up, but nothing came up. My stomach was officially empty. But that didn’t stop my body from attempting to bring up my stomach lining.
I was shaking uncontrollably, and those cold, soft hands touched my face. I think I moaned at how good it felt. Don’t stop touching me.
“I’m not going anywhere,” the voice soothed. And for the brief second before I passed out again, I felt comforted. And it made the free fall into blackness that much sweeter.
“Fuck,” I groaned. I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. My limbs felt weighed down, and the tips of my extremities were on fire. I felt like I was simultaneously boiling alive and freezing to death.
My teeth chattered and my head pounded. My stomach was sore and clenched, ready to expel whatever might be left inside me out onto my bedroom floor.
I thought I was dying.
No, I knew I was dying.
I knew this horrible feeling all too well.
I didn’t want to die.
I wanted to live.
I wanted to feel good again.
“Please,” I begged, not sure anyone was around to hear my pathetic pleas. I vaguely remembered hands and words spoken in my ear before I blacked out. But I didn’t give a f**king shit about any of that.
“Give me my f**king pills,” I growled, trying to sit up again, though more forcefully this time. My fingers curled into claws as I reached for my bedside table and the bottle I knew I kept there.
“Maxx, lie down. You need to rest,” the voice said softly.
The room was dark. I couldn’t see who the voice belonged to. I didn’t care who it belonged to.
“Give me my f**king pills, now!” I screamed. The voice would give me what the f**k I wanted or I would f**king kill it!
I lunged for the drawer, my body not working properly. My arms felt useless, my hands weak and feeble. I slapped at the top of the table, knocking off my lamp, not flinching as glass shattered on the floor.
“Maxx, it’s okay,” the voice soothed. I was going to kill that voice! I hated that voice! It was keeping me from the only thing that could make me feel better!
“I will stab you in the goddamned throat if you don’t give me my f**king pills!” I swore, lunging in the direction of the voice.