Heat (11 page)

“I think I’m going to like nine a.m. lessons,” she said.

Max parked his truck in the nursing home parking lot and listened to the song on the radio. He’d picked a country music station because it fit his melancholy mood. He watched a few patients in wheelchairs being pushed around outside, enjoying the unseasonably warm autumn day. When the song ended, he shut the engine off and called his sister.

“Three-hour time difference, Max. Jesus, some of us like to sleep in.”

“It’s noon my time.” Max grinned, picturing his sister, Jessie, grumpily putting the pillow over her head. If he had been there, she would have thrown it at him.

“What do you want? Is it Dad?”

The grin slid off his face. “He had a stroke.”

She grunted. “That sucks. Are you all right?”

“I’m going to go visit him. See if he needs anything.”

“Max, anything he needs the nurses will get him. He doesn’t even know who you are.”

“I know,” Max said.

He heard the sound of covers rustling and her voice was clearer. “Don’t let him do this to you. He has no power over you—over any of us anymore.”

“I can’t just walk away. He’s my father.” Max tried to keep the censure out of his voice.

“He’s the same prick who called you a fag for wanting to learn to sew. He’s the same jackass that used to slap Mom when his dinner wasn’t on the table when he got home. He’s our father only in name.”

“You should see him, Jessie. He looks so old and defeated.”

“Good. Take a picture and I’ll post it on Facebook with the caption ‘What goes around comes around.’ ”

Max winced. “I think he’s dying this time.”

“He’s been dying for the last five years.”

“I just thought that if you want to say goodbye, you probably should do it sooner rather than later.”

“Max, I said my goodbyes to him ten years ago after he punched me in the face for cheering for the wrong football team. Mom begged me not to call the police. The price for that is I never had to see his ugly mug ever again.”

“You didn’t even come back for her funeral,” he blurted out.

She sighed. “Yes, I did. I just stood in the back. I stayed in the car at the cemetery until all of you left. I said my goodbyes to Mom, and then I flew back home.”

“Without talking to me and Ken?”

“You had your hands full with the old man. I would have caused a scene. It was better this way.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why I even told you now. Look, the old man’s swinging arm was getting weak by the time you came around. Ken and I did our time. I’m done. Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No,” Max said.

“I love you, little brother. But I hate him. You can call me when he’s dead or not. I don’t care either way. But if you need me or if you need money to bury the old bastard, let me know.”

“I’ve got it covered.”

“All right, honey. I’m sorry if I sound harsh.”

“No, you’re not,” Max said.

“You’re right. I’m not. Take it easy.”

Max wasn’t sure he could handle talking to Ken right now. While not as overt as Jessie’s, Ken’s feelings toward their father were just as strong. He rubbed the pain in his forehead. He didn’t want to be here either. But he’d promised his mother he’d look after his father. Deathbed promises were the worst.

Slamming the door of the truck, Max strode into the facility hoping to get this over with as soon as possible. The nurse on duty smiled sadly at him.

“He’s awake,” she said. “But not very aware.”

“Thanks.” Max signed himself in and went to the room. He wasn’t in hospice yet, but the fragile old man propped up by the window looked as if he was fading fast. “Hi, Dad.” It came out hoarse, so he cleared his throat and sat down.

His father didn’t look away from the window.

“It’s a nice day,” he said inanely. “I brought my sketches, if you want to see them.”

On good days, his father would look at the pictures of the clothes, flipping through the sketchbook. He never said anything. There was never a look of either censure or delight in his dead eyes. But at least he responded.

Max tried to see him the way Jessie did, just so he could understand. The old man never hit him on a regular basis like he had with Max’s two older siblings. He was the baby, and his mother would shove him out of the way. After two other kids, she’d learned how to shield him from the worst of her husband’s rages. There was a time, though, after Max’s mother had shown him how to cut out a pattern and they were sewing it up. It was a Halloween costume. Max closed his eyes and tried to remember if it was a vampire’s cape or a tunic for a Renaissance warrior. Nothing. All he remembered was his father flipping the sewing machine over, breaking
it.

“No son of mine is going to sew.”

It hadn’t mattered that Max was a football player and had a steady girlfriend. It didn’t matter that Max worked at a garage part-time. Sewing a costume had made him less of a man in his father’s eyes.

He got sent to his room. His mother had to clean up the mess. She even finished the costume for him. The sewing machine never worked right again, even after Max took it apart and fixed it.

“I started cutting out the patterns for the demo pieces,” he said, louder than normal.

His father turned slowly from the window, his face slack and his eyes blank.

“I’m going to sew them up once I get a free minute.”

No reaction.

“I have a serger and two sewing machines in my apartment.”

There was a slow blink.

“But don’t worry, I pay my rent by making women’s sexual fantasies come true. So it’s all good.”

His father didn’t even blink. And after a few moments, Max felt a little foolish.

“I met a girl,” he said. “Her name is Mallory. She’s a doctor. You’d like her. She wouldn’t like you, though.” He wasn’t sure where the words were coming from. “She’s hiding from her ex, who did a number on her. But she’s strong. Stronger than she knows. Mom was strong too. But she had us kids. That’s why she stayed. And then after we left, she had just gotten used to it.”

His father turned back to the window.

“I wish there was enough of you left that you could understand me,” Max whispered, clenching his fists.

The sound of the clock ticking in the room was very loud. “I spoke to Jessie today,” he said. “She says hi.” Max wondered why he bothered to lie. “Ken got another promotion. He’s working hard.”

A nurse came in to administer pills and check his father’s vitals. Max walked around the room. There were pictures of his mom and of the whole family. There was one of Jessie on a tire swing and Ken climbing the tree. Max was in a stroller nearby.

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” the nurse asked, wheeling his father away from the window. “It’s meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”

“No,” Max said, swiping the back of his hand over his eyes. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Thank you for coming,” the nurse said. “It means a lot to him.”

“Yeah.” Max watched his father roll down the hall. “Yeah.”

He wondered if it was too early to start drinking as he fiddled with the car radio until he found a top-forty channel. He played the driving beat loud and drove a little too fast. Maybe he could fit in a workout. Eyeing the dashboard clock, he put his foot down on the gas pedal and made it back to Couture in record time.

After parking the truck in the garage, he opened the door to the stairwell and was surprised to see Mallory sitting on the landing, clutching her keys.

“Mallory,” he said, and she looked up with red, swollen eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m defective,” she sniffed.

He ran up the stairs to sit next to her. “What happened?”

“I got sick and tired of just waiting for my life to reboot so I could feel normal again. Tired of hiding out here like a scared kitten.”

“Have you made an appointment with Dr. Strauss?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve had a few sessions. It’s been helping. I was going to go out and get a new cell phone with a different number. Maybe drive by the apartment and see if David’s car was there. I actually wanted to go in to work and explain where I’ve been for the past two months.”

“You should have waited for me. Or talked to Istvahn. He would have sent someone with you. Did David hurt you?”

A choking laugh bubbled out of her throat. “I never got out of the stairwell.” She threw her keys down the stairs with some force. “I was too scared. I’m so pathetic.”

He hugged her, tight. “You are not pathetic. You are perfect.”

Her arms were equally tight around him. “I’m ready to be normal,” Mallory told him.

“Do you want to go now? We can take my truck. He won’t recognize it. And I’ll be right there with you.”

She shook her head. “Not today. I just can’t. It took all my nerve to get to the stairs.”

“Not a problem,” he said, rubbing her shoulders.

“How do I do this, Max? How do I stop letting David control me?”

“Control is a very powerful thing, Mallory.” Max stroked the hair away from her face. “You gave him control and it’s hard to take it back.”

“Why couldn’t I have picked you to take control of me?”

Max’s hand stilled. He chose his words carefully. “You still could.”

Mallory’s eyes met his and at the look of determination in them he forgot to breathe. “You mean like what I saw in the conference room with Angie?”

A trickle of sweat ran down Max’s neck. “Not exactly.”

“Tell me more.”

“I shouldn’t even be doing this right now,” he said. He wanted to get the old man out of his head. He wanted to make love to Mallory. Both were very selfish reasons to take advantage of her vulnerability.

She put her hand in his. “I want you.”

His eyes closed shut. She wasn’t making this easier.

“I want to not be so afraid. I want to be able to trust again,” she said.

“Do you trust me?”

“More than I trust myself right now.”

“God, Mallory, that’s pretty heavy.” He opened his eyes.

“Why do the submissives do what you tell them to do?”

“They want to,” he said.

“What do they get out of it?”

“It’s different for different people.” Max stood up and helped her to her feet.

“They get off,” she said.

“If I allow it.” Max put a bit of arrogance in his tone. He was delighted to see her shiver. He decided to see how far she was willing to go with this. Leaning his body into her, he pressed her up against the railing. She put a hand on his chest to steady herself. “Do you want a little taste of relinquishing control?”

“Please,” she whispered. “For just a few minutes, I don’t want to think. I don’t want to be responsible for anything. Not even my stupid emotions.”

“Then you’ll do exactly as I say.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You said you trusted me. If you don’t, we can’t begin this.”

He watched her swallow hard. “Okay.”

“Be sure, Mallory. I don’t want to punish you.”

“How would you punish me?” Her eyes were wide and a little frightened.

“I would walk away.”

Her hand tightened on his shirt. “No, don’t.”

Leaning his head into her ear, he whispered, “Then let’s start.”

She was trembling, so he kissed her cheek before darting his tongue around the shell of her ear.

“Oh,” Mallory said softly, clutching his shoulders with both hands.

He kissed down to her cheek and across her jaw before he let his mouth taste the honey sweetness of hers. Licking her lower lip, he encouraged her to open her mouth wider for his tongue and spent an enjoyable few minutes just kissing her. He gave her a moment to catch her breath.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Dizzy,” she said. “Horny.” She laughed.

He rested his forehead on hers. “Unbutton your pants and pull them down to your knees.”

“Here?” she squawked.

He stepped back from her.

“No, wait.”

Max watched her bite her lip as she did what he asked. She wore pale peach panties. Lifting her, he sat her on the railing. Mallory gasped when the cool pipe hit the backs of her legs. Moving between her thighs, he kept his arm around her back to steady her. Slowly, he trailed his fingertips up her thigh.

“Spread your legs a little wider, please,” he said, kissing her temple when she responded. He traced the edge of her underwear. “Tell me, Mallory, if I put my finger inside these would you be wet?”

She nodded.

He stroked her over the thin fabric and found she was wet and hot. She made that pretty little “oh” sound again. He kept up the teasing until her hands clenched at his shoulders.

“Max,” she sighed.

“I want you to give me your orgasm.”

Her brow furrowed. “You want me to make you come?”

“No, sweet.” He kissed her neck as his fingers pushed the flimsy damp material aside. “I want
you
to. Come for me. Now.” His fingers glided over her clit.

Mallory sucked in a breath and her eyes locked with his.

“That’s right,” he encouraged. “For me.” His fingers moved swiftly against her swollen bud.

“Max!” she half screeched, her eyes wild.