Crazy for Love (20 page)

He took a step forward, and she held up a shaking hand. “I'm…fine.” Her heart beat so hard it felt like every thump set off a violent shaking inside the chambers. “Just…” The voices rose to shouts outside.
She couldn't make out more than Max's name, but it was enough to keep her pulse going.

Max lurched forward and grabbed her arms before she realized that the floor was getting wavy beneath her feet. When she leaned straight into him, he shifted and tucked his hands beneath her knees to pick her up. “Breathe, Chloe. Jesus, I'm calling an ambulance.”

“No! Panic attack.” She managed to draw a deeper breath and the scent of his shirt wound through her like opium. “I'm fine.”

He laid her down on her bed, and began touching her. Her forehead, her cheek, the pulse beneath her jaw. Then he set his ear to her chest. She couldn't believe his head didn't bounce right off with the force of her heartbeat. But he kept stroking her shoulder and making soft shussing sounds, and eventually Chloe could breathe without strangling on her own adrenaline. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, horrified.

“Are you okay? You scared me half to death.”

“I'm sorry.” Regret swelled up in her, pushing tears to her eyes. She didn't want to be this person. A person people screamed at and chased. A person who had panic attacks and lived like a hermit. A freak in a traveling sideshow with circus cars that seemed to follow her everywhere. “I'm sorry. You can leave if you want to.”

“I'll get you a glass of water.”

Chloe lay in the dark, staring up at a water stain on the ceiling, and she told herself it was going to be okay. Max would come back and he'd make a joke, and he wouldn't care about having his name on television. He'd stay with her tonight, and tomorrow he'd hold her hand and watch the press conference. He'd be there for her when the final shoe dropped.

She knew the fact that she was telling herself this meant that it wasn't going to happen. If it were going to happen, she wouldn't be holding so hard to the fantasy.

And when Max returned with a glass, even in the dim light, she could see the way his eyes shifted nervously to the window. The way he stuck his hands in his pockets as she sipped. He looked at the door, then down at his watch. Finally, he sat heavily on the bed and held his head in his hands.

While her apartment had felt secret and cozy with Max in her bed, it wasn't. It was a cave. A box. A trap she couldn't escape. And Max looked far too big within its confines.

“Chloe.” He lifted his head. “I'm making this worse.”

“It's my fault. It's only been a month—”

“But part of it's me.”

“Why?”

He ran a hand through his hair, setting it into crazy lines. “Genevieve Bianca.”

“Yeah.” Chloe laughed. “What the heck was that about?”

“She, um… The truth is…I dated her.”

“Genevieve Bianca? The heiress?”

“Yes.”

“Are you serious? That's crazy. When did you date Genevieve Bianca?”

His eyes slid to meet hers before darting away. “We broke it off about nine months ago.”

Nine months ago. “Oh,” she breathed. “I see.” Genevieve Bianca. Good Lord. That woman was thin and fashionable and so rich she was famous just for that. And everyone agreed that she was remarkably nice for an heiress, if a bit of a magnet for users and troubled playboys.

Max wasn't either of those things. Chloe curled her hands to fists. “She was one of those women.”

He didn't answer.

“She was one of those women you stayed with just so you could help her.” And that was when it hit her. Chloe drew in a ragged breath and sat up so quickly that the room spun. “Oh, my God.
I'm
one of those women!”

Despite her shock, she half expected him to protest, to offer at least a token denial, but he didn't. He just sat there, staring at her lap.

“I'm one of them.”

Finally, Max shook his head. “No, not at all.”

She didn't want to hear him lie, so Chloe frantically changed the subject. “Genevieve Bianca? How long were you with her?”

“We were dating on and off for a few months. I wouldn't say I was ‘with' her.”

“Max.”

His big shoulders curved down in defeat. “I don't really know what happened. We finished a site early. The captain had some connection to her uncle. They wanted to see a real treasure wreck. He invited them out for a postseason dive, and I was the one in charge of instructing and outfitting them.” He raised a heavy hand, as if he was too tired to complete a gesture. “The dives were done for the season, and…we hung out.”

“And?”

“And she seemed like she needed someone around her who wasn't looking for a handout. I don't know.”

“She needed help.”

“Yes.”

“So you stuck around?”

“I suppose I did. When I wasn't working.”

Chloe felt suddenly drained, as if she were a puppet whose strings had just been cut. She wished she hadn't bothered sitting up. Now flinging herself back down would just look melodramatic, and she wanted to hold herself still. Genevieve had needed
help and Max hadn't been working. That sounded awfully familiar.

“So,” he said, “that's why the press is so crazed today. They finally figured out who I was. I wasn't really part of her red carpet entourage. I only occasionally shared a picture with Genevieve, but that was enough, I suppose.”

She nodded as if she understood, but it was just starting to hit her. All her imaginings of Max were constructed around the isolation of his job. A romantic fantasy world, where Max sailed over turquoise seas by day and lounged in his solitary cabin at night. She'd forgotten that he sometimes got off the boat and wandered free and handsome through the world. With someone willowy and vulnerable.

This was awful.

“I'm sorry,” Max murmured. “I should have told you. I should have
warned
you. But it never occurred to me that they'd make the connection.”

“Unfortunately, they're pretty damn good at what they do.”

He took her hand and cradled it carefully in his own. “I'm really, really sorry, Chloe.”

She didn't want to be another one of those girls. Actually, she did. She wanted to be coddled and stroked and taken care of, but…in a different way. She didn't want to be coddled and stroked and taken
care of because she needed him. She wanted all that because he needed
her.

But that wouldn't be good for Max. Not with his history.

Chloe took a deep breath. “Maybe you should go.”

The edges of his eyes tightened. He squeezed her hand. “Maybe I should.”

Oh, no. She hadn't meant for him to agree. Not so quickly. Not so easily.

“You should go stay with your parents. It's only going to be a few more days, and you need to be with someone.”

Her head felt strangely light when she shook it. “I don't.”

“You do. Maybe Jenn could come stay with you.”

Now she felt panicked again. Why had she suggested he leave? “No. Jenn and I… I don't know what's wrong with her. She's been acting strange. We haven't talked since Thursday night. I called her, but she hasn't called back.”

He ran his free hand through his hair with a sigh. “I'll only draw more attention to you if I stay.”

“Just for a little while then. Just until tomorrow?”

He met her gaze, his eyes fathomless brown. A burst of laughter leaked from the window that faced
the alley, and he looked toward it. She saw defeat flash over his face like a wince. “If you need me to stay, then I'll—”

“Never mind.” The words didn't want to leave her mouth, but she pushed them out. “You're right. You should go. I'll call you a cab and have it pick you up in front.”

“Wait, Chloe. I can stay until—”

“I know what you're doing, and I don't need that. I need to work this out on my own.”

His gaze dropped, as if he could hide his intentions.

“I'm fine, Max. I've been living like this for weeks now. It's no big deal. My parents will be relieved if I come stay with them. That's a good idea. They've been worried.”

“Damn it, Chloe, I want to stay. I swear I want to stay. But that's the problem. I have this
need
to help, and I promised myself I wouldn't do this anymore. It's why I stopped dating. Why I stopped even looking at women. Living like this, it's killing me.”

Like this, he said. Not like that. Like
this.

She didn't try to defend herself. How could she? She wanted him around for the same reasons those other women had. She was using him for his sweetness and his body and his beautiful way of worrying about her. Just like the others.

But unlike the others, Max had been honest with
her. And she owed him something more than falling at his feet and begging him to stay. Her panicked mind formed the argument:
You just got here. You came to
me.
Please stay.

And he would.

Chloe pushed past him to start picking up the remnants of their night together. The clothes he'd stripped from her body. The wineglasses empty next to the bed. The high school yearbook he'd spotted in one of the boxes and insisted on paging through. “You have to stop somewhere, Max. As you said, you can't keep living like this. Now is as good a time as any.”

She grabbed her phone and asked the Directory Assistance operator for the phone number of a local cab company, the whole time praying that Max would grab the phone from her hand because he couldn't bear to leave. But he didn't touch her.

Chloe ordered the cab, then turned slowly to face him. “Believe me, I'd get out if I could. I understand.”

“I want to stay,” he said softly. “You know that.”

She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to separate his attraction to her from his need to rescue damsels in distress. Maybe he did like her, but he had to hate her a little, too. Just as she found herself hating him a little. He'd taken care of all those other
women, so why the hell did he have to take a stand with her? Why couldn't he just offer his support?

She set the phone carefully on the table, afraid if she moved too quickly she'd fall apart. “Dispatch said it would only be three minutes. There's a driver nearby.”

“Chloe…”

“Just go, Max. Wait inside the gate. They won't be able to bother you there.”

He pulled her into his arms, but she stayed stiff. If she put her hands on him, if she tilted her head up for a kiss, she'd start crying. She'd weep and wail and beg him not to go. Max would stay if she asked him to, but that would be like asking someone to love you. A cheap and petty ruse that left you lonelier than you were before. And if you asked someone to love you, wasn't that a guarantee he never would?

His arms fell slowly, as if he were still waiting for her to change her mind. “I'm going to stay here in Richmond, okay? In case you need me.”

“Need you,” she repeated dully. Hurt hardened into convenient fury. “In case I
need
you? Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Regardless—”

“I'm not some wilting flower looking for a protector, Max. I've done this on my own. I got through my fiancé dying. Then I got through the suspicions that he wasn't dead at all. And the humiliation and
betrayal of being exposed to
everyone.
And now…whatever the news is on Monday, I'll get through that, too. What's the alternative? Should I scream at the world to stop and let me off?”

“I didn't mean—”

“I know what you meant, you arrogant asshole. Yeah, I wanted you here. I admit it. But I didn't want a big strong daddy to take care of me. I wanted you here as an equal, but I guess you're not up for that.” She knew her anger didn't match what he'd done. He owed her nothing, not time or caring or even respect. But she had to put space between them or he'd stay and she'd call him.

And she had more than enough anger inside her to muster up.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated, looking a little lost in the face of her bitterness.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “You are. And you really should go now, because I don't like you looking at my life as if it's a fucking mess when you've been living a lie for thirty years.”

“Hey. My life has nothing to with this.”

“Not true. If you hadn't been screwed up for so long, would you be running away right now?”

All traces of regret disappeared from his face. Now he looked furious. “I'm not running away. This isn't my responsibility, goddamn it. You're the
one who told me I didn't have to take care of every person I met.”

“Oh, sure, start with
me.
I guess I don't mean as much to you as those other women you couldn't bear to leave.”

“That's not it at all,” he shouted. “You mean more to me.”

She couldn't take this anymore.
I care about you. That's why I'm throwing you to the wolves.
“Get out. And don't bother hanging around Richmond. I don't need you and I won't call you.”

His jaw hard as the blade of a knife, Max glared at her. He shook his head, then looked down at the floor.

Despite her crazy tirade, despite his anger, he didn't seem inclined to move, so Chloe stalked to the door and shoved it open. Flashbulbs crackled like an electrical storm, lighting up the trees in eerie bursts of colorless light. “Goodbye, Max.”

He stayed in her bedroom for a moment, glaring at his shoes, but what choice did he have? She'd opened the cage and he wanted out. Chloe didn't even hear the questions shouted from the alley. The voices sounded like screaming ghosts as she stared at Max's profile, memorizing the sad curve of his neck and the flexing muscles of his arms. Her body was winding up inside, like a clockwork toy about to snap.