Текст книги "Lead Me Not"

Автор книги: A. Meredith Walters

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

“Oh, we’re done. He’s just having a hard time accepting it,” she muttered.

“What did his text say?” I asked. Given Devon Keeton’s stellar personality, I could hazard a guess at the contents.

“Nothing, really. He just has a fondness for some not-so-nice words.” She shrugged again.

It was on the tip of my tongue to say something nasty about her ex. But I stopped myself. Renee was holding strong, though I worried about how long that would last. And I knew my hateful remarks wouldn’t help anything, even if they made me feel better. Looking at Renee, I could see how much Devon and their relationship had taken their toll. But she still loved him. I could see that plain as day. And that love was hurting her.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I was in a similar situation. My feelings for Maxx were causing me to make decisions I never would have made in the past. I was forgetting about everything that had mattered to me, potentially throwing it all away to save a boy I was pretty sure didn’t want to be saved.

Love made us stupid.

Love made us blind.

Love could incapacitate us and leave us powerless.

And love could also make everything better.

I couldn’t let myself think anything else.

But Renee’s love had come close to destroying her. It hadn’t fixed anything. There was a new realization in my friend’s eyes that had never been there before.

I reached out and squeezed her hand, offering support, which ultimately is all that any of us wants. She tried to smile, but her mouth twisted into more of a grimace.

“I’ve got to head to the library. Will you be here tonight?” Renee asked.

“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. Because I knew if I could find Maxx, I wouldn’t be coming home. Already, I was twitchy and anxious to be with him again. We had been together just that morning, yet here I was fidgeting and restless like a junkie needing my fix.

Maxx was my drug.

Renee’s lips turned upward in a sad smile. “Just don’t get dragged down by him, Aubrey. Learn from my mistakes,” she cautioned. I wanted to blow off her statement, but I couldn’t. She was right.

After Renee left, I gave in and tried to call Maxx again. And again he didn’t answer. I thought about leaving a message but decided against it. He’d see that I had called. I only hoped he’d call me back.

I couldn’t sit around my apartment waiting for my phone to ring. It was sad and pathetic. I had things I should be doing. I had work that needed to be done. I had been neglecting school in the past few weeks, and I would have to work my ass off to get back on track.

I gathered my book bag, trying not to focus on the state of my bedroom, which also had been neglected due to my obsession with Maxx. The amount of dust had me fleeing quickly.

Once on campus, I headed for the back entrance of the psychology building. I had forgotten to check Dr. Lowell’s symposium schedule for the week, and I didn’t want to make things worse for myself by not showing up to the class.

I hoped I wouldn’t run into my adviser, but I should have known I wouldn’t be that lucky. The universe seemed to be turning up its middle finger in my direction lately.

“Aubrey! Come in and talk to me for a minute,” Dr. Lowell called out as I tried to slip into the reception area outside her office without being noticed. Clearly I needed to work on my stealth skills.

Facing my professor, whom I had a lot of respect for, knowing I was betraying the confidence she had in me, was a new kind of torture. I was fearful she’d look at me and know all my secrets.

I hated that this shiny new love I felt for Maxx also brought with it immeasurable amounts of guilt and shame. Why couldn’t Maxx and I have met under different circumstances?

But a part of me knew that a lot of what drew me to Maxx was the messy chaos inside him that had landed him in the group in the first place.

God, what did that say about me? Maybe it wasn’t Maxx who was the truly messed-up one? It was apparent my issues were just as damaging.

I walked into Dr. Lowell’s office and stood awkwardly inside the door. My professor looked up and gestured for me to have a seat. I scrutinized her face, looking for displeasure or anger. I was festering in my own distrust.

“Just give me a moment to finish this,” Dr. Lowell said, sorting through a pile of papers.

While I waited, I looked around the office I had spent so much time in. I could remember taking my first class with Dr. Lowell my freshman year. Psychology 101 hadn’t been the most riveting class, but I had loved Dr. Lowell’s teaching style. She had a way of inciting passion in her students that was awe-inspiring.

I had been lost and miserable that first year, after losing Jayme. My relationship with my parents was strained. I was hundreds of miles from home, and I was alone. I had cut ties with all my friends from high school and hadn’t been looking to make any new connections with anyone.

But somehow, Dr. Lowell had seen something in me and had quickly taken me under her wing. I respected her refusal to make or accept excuses for anything. I had been drawn to her gruff yet kind personality and the way she expected me to hold myself accountable but be ever mindful of my grief.

She nurtured my desire to be a counselor. She guided me down the path I had chosen. She was my mentor. My adviser. My favorite professor. And the thought of letting her down made me sick to my stomach. I was terrified of looking in her eyes one day and seeing disappointment.

Finally, Dr. Lowell gave me her attention, and I almost sagged in relief when I saw her smile. This wasn’t someone who was unhappy to see me. On the contrary, she seemed pleased.

“I don’t want to keep you, Aubrey. I know you must be busy. I just wanted to take a moment to tell you I’ve heard such great things from Kristie about group,” Dr. Lowell said, shocking me.

“Really? I was pretty sure that after my screw-up I had been written off,” I said, making Dr. Lowell laugh.

“I think she’s gotten over it. Kristie can be a tough sell. She comes across nice enough, but she’s pretty inflexible about things. So the fact that she’s come around is a huge compliment.”

The praise didn’t bring with it the warm glow of pride it normally would have. No. In fact, it made me feel worse. What would Dr. Lowell and Kristie say when they realized how inappropriate I was actually being? I shuddered at the thought of their faces if the truth ever came out.

So why wasn’t that enough to make me walk away?

Because I suffered from my own addiction, which sucked away all logic.

“Thank you,” was all I could squeak out. Dr. Lowell beamed at me, and I wanted to flee. Run away. Now.

“Check my schedule on the door, and put yourself down for a one-on-one after group is over. We can talk about how things went and look at options for your next volunteer placement,” my professor instructed, dismissing me.

I didn’t say a word as I got to my feet. I hurried out of the office and did as Dr. Lowell requested. I already dreaded the meeting.

I should go to the library. I had a mountain of work to catch up on, but right then I just wanted to get off campus. I wanted to go to Maxx’s apartment and submerge myself in the feelings I experienced only when he touched me.

I pushed through the doors that led out onto the academic quad. I rushed down the sidewalk and came up short. The sight of color at my feet caught my attention. I looked up and saw that the entire length of the pavement was covered in a drawing.

I backed up so I could get a better look at what was an elaborate kaleidoscope of images. At the center were two figures that looked like marionettes on strings. Their joints were depicted as jagged, bloody seams held together by nuts and bolts. The strings holding them up disappeared into a thick, raging fire above them.

The marionettes were clutched together, their awkward limbs trying to hold on to one another. The ground below them was giving way, crumbling and disappearing. The long blond hair of the female puppet was wrapped up in flowers that obscured her face, the fair strands an intricate weaving of the letter X.

While I stood there, transfixed by the strange yet unbelievably beautiful image, water hit the tip of my nose, followed by more drops on my cheek. Looking up, I saw clouds moving in and watched with sadness as rain flooded the drawing on the sidewalk, erasing it.

It seemed such a shame for something so amazing, something someone clearly spent a long time creating, to be ruined by a rain shower.

I hadn’t prepared for the turn in weather, so I stood there in the downpour, getting soaked. I watched with morbid fascination as the vibrant colors mixed together, washing down the pathway. The two puppets, locked in their passionate yet uncomfortable embrace, faded away until there was nothing left.

“Why can’t he just draw on paper like a normal person?” a hateful voice asked from behind me.

Brooks stood beside me, moving his umbrella so that it shielded me from the rain. I hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, not since our confrontation after support group. He continued to sit there week after week, but he hadn’t initiated any sort of interaction since. Nevertheless, I felt him watching me closely. And he wasn’t the only one. I knew that others were watching me as well, which didn’t help my paranoia, which was already near the breaking point.

The marionettes were completely gone. “I thought you liked X’s paintings,” I remarked, still not taking my eyes away from the rain-soaked pavement.

Brooks snorted. “It’s like that club, just a delusional waste of time. Sure, it looks pretty, but it only hides a heart that’s rotten to the core,” he spat out. I knew he wasn’t talking about the painting.

“Why so bitter, Brooks? It takes a lot of talent to create something like this,” I argued, shivering from the cold and the wet clothes clinging to my skin.

The rain beat down on the umbrella, pouring in rivulets around us, splashing my shoes and jeans as it hit the ground.

Brooks shook his head. “I get it, Aubrey. It’s easy to be distracted by something like this. But don’t forget the ugliness underneath. It may be nice to look at, but it’s only paint, and it washes away eventually.”

Brooks’s metaphors were making my head hurt. But his meaning was crystal freaking clear. If I had wondered about the state of our friendship before, I didn’t now. I could practically taste his disapproval.

I stepped out from underneath the protection of his umbrella. I looked up into my former friend’s eyes and saw nothing of the kind, compassionate man I used to see.

“I feel bad for you, Brooks. It’s so easy to criticize what you don’t even try to understand. To pass judgment without looking at what’s really there. I’m sorry if I haven’t lived up to the expectations you had for me. That I disappointed you. But I had to come down off that pedestal eventually.” Brooks opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something, but then shook his head.

“I’m sorry too, Aubrey,” he said sadly.

I looked down at the ruined painting again. All that was left was a puddle of color in the grass.

“You’ll miss out on some amazing things in life if you can’t look past your nose to see the beauty that’s out there in the most unconventional places. And complexity isn’t ugliness. It’s the complication that makes it worth it,” I said softly, turning and walking away.

I pulled out my phone and tried calling Maxx again. No answer. I was freezing, the tips of my fingers going numb. But I couldn’t go back to my apartment. I couldn’t be on campus.

There was only one place I belonged. Only one person I needed.

So I walked the four and a half blocks to find him.

And when he wasn’t there, I waited.

I’d always wait for Maxx.

chapter
twenty-six

aubrey

“why can’t I come with you?” I asked Maxx as I lay naked and tangled up with him in his bed. His fingers stroked up and down my back, making me squirm.

We had been wrapped up in each other for most of the day. It had been almost a week since we were last together, and when I finally saw him again, there was no explanation for his disappearance. There never was.

I wanted to be angry with him. I wanted to be upset and sad. But I couldn’t be. Not when he touched me and held me like his life depended on it. Not when my own feelings were jangled and raw from my burst of self-realization.

I loved Maxx Demelo. I felt it deep in my bones.

I was bursting with wanting to tell him. To lay my heart at his feet as easily as he had done. I imagined the way his eyes would light up when I told him. I fantasized about his reaction. He would kiss me, make love to me, worship me with his beautiful words.

But I love you was quickly being swallowed by other things.

Primarily it was the life he led when we were apart, the life I hated as surely as I loved the man who lived it.

The need to protect what little hold I had left on my heart rendered me mute. So the words remained unspoken, even as they tattooed their presence on my heart.

“I won’t be there long. Just a few hours. Why don’t you stay here, just like this? So that when I get home, I can do this,” Maxx replied huskily, rolling me onto my back and fitting himself between my thighs.

I had learned that Maxx used sex as a way of shutting me up. When I questioned him or expressed concern, he’d flop me on my back and fuck me into silence.

And while I couldn’t help but enjoy the methods he used to control the direction of our conversations, it was also frustrating.

So when he pressed the tip of himself between my wet, warm folds, kissing me so that our talk was finished, I resisted.

I pulled my hips back even as my body begged to join with his. I tore my mouth away and turned my head to the side. I pushed against his chest. “I want to go to Compulsion, Maxx. Please, take me with you,” I pleaded.

I’m not sure why I was making a big deal about going to the club with him on Saturday. Except that I was tired of spending my weekends wondering what he was doing while he was there, though I didn’t have to imagine too hard to figure it out.

While he tried really hard to keep the drugs away from me, I knew they were still there. The bitch demanded so much of his time. While he denied his addiction was there at all, it was a constant presence in our relationship. And he gave her, his need for pills, more attention than he gave me.

I was jealous.

I was scared.

Maxx was turning me into a mess of emotions both good and bad. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to help him. Here I was, studying to become an addictions counselor, and I couldn’t do anything for the man I had fallen in love with.

Every time I had tried to bring up his drug use, he claimed that there wasn’t a problem, that I needed to stop worrying about him. He didn’t see himself the way I did, as a sad, desperate man who had no idea of the destruction he was unleashing on himself. He thought he had it under control. He thought he was in charge. He thought that he could hide the worst of it from me, that I’d never know.

He was so, so wrong.

I could tell the difference between the Maxx who was high as a kite and the Maxx in the grips of withdrawal, both of which were starting to occur with more frequency and severity, and the Maxx who fell somewhere in between.

The two extremes were quickly becoming the only state he lived in. The in-between Maxx was slipping away. I knew he struggled, he hurt, he craved. And though he didn’t use in front of me, not since that time after we went to see his brother, I knew he still spent the majority of his time high.

I wanted to press him, demand to know the truth, but I was scared to. I knew that if I did, he’d freeze me out, and then I’d never have a chance to help him. So I let myself be quieted, hating that I was allowing it, yet frantic for him all the same. I was letting him use our bodies to make us both forget the truth.

But I was growing weary of my willful ignorance. I was frustrated with the levels of my own denial. I was sick and tired of turning a blind eye even as Maxx shredded us both.

I wanted to go to the club with Maxx.

I had decided that being with him was a hell of a lot better than obsessing about it all alone. All I could think about in those dark hours until I saw him again was whether this would be the time he wouldn’t come home at all. I was afraid that eventually the limits wouldn’t matter and he’d go over the edge.

Maxx let out an irritated breath and sagged his body, resting his forehead on my collarbone. “Why is it such a big deal to you?” he asked, sounding annoyed. “You’ve been there, and I can tell it’s not your scene.”

I pushed out from under him and rolled onto my side. I folded my hands beneath my cheek and regarded him steadily. “Because I want to be with you. I hate waiting around for you to come home, wondering what you’re doing,” I explained.

Maxx folded his arm under his head and looked up at me, lines forming between his eyebrows. “You know what I do there, Aubrey,” he said softly. Yes. I knew what he did at Compulsion. He made money selling drugs to the miserable and hopeless. How could I ever accept this part of him?

“You don’t want to see that,” he finished, running the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip.

I kissed his finger before saying, “But I want to be with you.”

“How can I ever say no to you?” he asked me, smiling. My stomach knotted up at his statement.

Because it was a lie.

I didn’t have the power to make him stop using drugs. He’d deny me if I asked him to never sell drugs again. I knew what his response would be if I insisted he stay away from Compulsion and all the temptations it held for him.

As much as Maxx wanted me, as much as he loved me, my influence went only so far. And he was still saying no to me each and every day.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at nine. I have some stuff to do before then,” Maxx said, wrapping an arm around my waist and dragging me across the bed. “Now can we get back to this?” he asked, picking up my leg and hooking it up and over his hip. He dipped his hand between our bodies.

“Yes,” I breathed out, followed by a guttural groan as Maxx pushed two fingers inside me. He moved his hand, his mouth conquering mine, and once again I let myself forget.

* * *

“So I’m finally going to meet the mystery man?” Renee asked on Saturday evening. I was getting dressed to go to the club with Maxx. I was a bundle of nerves. This was a big step for us. He was taking me into his world, by his side, where it would be obvious who we were to each other.

We had gone through the early days of our relationship within the walls of his apartment. We had a connection built in secret. Aside from the day we went sledding, we had spent very little time in public. We had been out to dinner a few times, a movie twice. But the majority of our time was spent in the safety of his home.

This was taking our relationship out into the open. This was announcing to everyone that he was mine. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

Because I knew who I’d be walking into the club with. It wasn’t my Maxx. It was the Maxx who belonged to everybody else.

I was forcing two worlds to smash into each other.

I was nervous and fitful about the possibilities this night would bring. While Renee was happy to finally meet the guy who had twisted me up inside, I wished my feelings could be that simple.

“I suppose,” I answered, pulling a short red dress over my head. I was borrowing my outfit from Renee, who had insisted. And it was short, as in barely-covering-my-ass short. I felt way too much air where I shouldn’t be feeling it.

“Well, you look amazing. What are you guys doing tonight?” she asked, but before I could answer, her phone vibrated in her hand. Without bothering to look at the screen she turned it off.

“Was that Devon again?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Renee said, giving me one of her all-too-common forced smiles.

“Still being his charming self?” I couldn’t help asking. Renee gave me a look but then snorted.

“Of course,” she replied, walking over to my jewelry box and digging through it. I wisely let the subject drop. I knew she didn’t want to talk about it, and I was freaking out too badly to dig for more than she was willing to give.

“I knew you still had these!” she accused good-naturedly as she held up a pair of dangly earrings with huge sparkly stones at the bottom.

“I am not wearing those,” I told her. I remembered all too well how Renee got when she wanted to play makeover. When we first became friends she had made it her mission to revamp my wardrobe, getting a lot of joy out of introducing me to stilettos and earrings the size of melons.

I hadn’t been subjected to her ministrations in quite some time, but it was easy to recall how much I hated them.

“Oh yes you are. And . . .” She trailed off, going through my shoes and coming up with a matching pair of black strappy things with heels as tall as skyscrapers.

“I’ll break my neck!” I complained, but Renee put them down in front of me, and I oh so carefully slipped them on.

I tried standing up in the four-inch heels Renee was insisting I wear. I stuck one foot out and examined the modern torture device attached to my foot.

“Really, Renee? Why not put spikes on the bottom of my feet? These bitches are gonna kill my toes! I’m going to need to amputate a few by the end of the night,” I groaned, hating the way the shoes pinched my skin.

Renee rolled her eyes and laughed at my pained expression. “You always did make dressing up a chore. Just trust me. Your man will be drooling at your feet,” she said, smiling at my reflection in the mirror. I met her eyes, and there was a moment when I thought things would be okay.

And then I heard a knock at the door. “Mystery man arrives!” Renee announced, arching her eyebrow.

I ran the brush through my long hair one more time and gave myself a perfunctory once-over. I looked good. Really good. It had been a long time since I allowed myself to dress up and enjoy it. I just hoped Maxx liked it.

“Can I get it?” Renee asked.

I nodded, hanging back so she could answer the door. When she did, it revealed a Maxx I had only ever seen in one place . . . Compulsion. This was the man who had first captivated me.

He oozed sexuality and confidence. He wore distressed jeans that hung low on his narrow hips, a tight-fitting blue Henley the color of his eyes, and worn brown Doc Martens. His blond curls were in haphazard disarray and hung down into his hooded eyes. His full lips curved upward in a lazy, sure smile, and his thumbs were tucked into his belt loops.

Maxx was the man your mother warned you about. He was sex and danger and secrets. He was the very worst kind of temptation and the very best kind of distraction.

And even though the sight of him set my hormones on fire, there was something in his eyes that concerned me, something slightly predatory and violent. He scared me. He pulled me in. I felt like running. I felt like giving him everything.

I had come undone.

“I’m Renee,” my roommate said, holding out her hand as she watched him closely. Maxx pushed off from the wall and took her offered hand.

“Nice to finally meet you, Renee. I’m Maxx Demelo.” He covered their joined hands with his other palm, a touch that was meant to alleviate all worry. He looked over at me, and his eyes widened a fraction, the first genuine expression I had seen on his face since Renee had opened the door.

I had surprised him, and maybe unnerved him a bit. It was a heady and powerful feeling.

“I’m Aubrey’s boyfriend,” he finished his introduction, his lips lingering over the word boyfriend. As if that word could ever adequately describe who he was to me.

Obsession. Fixation. Owner of my heart and soul. Those were more appropriate descriptions.

Renee looked over her shoulder as I came closer. Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes were concerned.

Maxx released Renee’s hand and turned to me. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling. And just like that, he was my Maxx again. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on my lips. He tasted like cigarettes and peppermint.

“Thanks,” I said, smoothing down the tight skirt of my dress. I wasn’t entirely comfortable in my clothing, but the heated look in Maxx’s eyes made me glad I was wearing it.

Maxx, obviously not bothered by our audience, grabbed the back of my neck and smashed his mouth down over mine. His tongue plunged between my lips as he kissed me senseless. He emitted a growl deep in his throat, and all I could taste, all I could feel, was Maxx.

“Ahem.” Renee cleared her throat from behind us, and I yanked myself away from Maxx’s restrictive hands.

“I guess we should get going,” I said, my voice sounding shaky. Renee looked from me to Maxx, and I knew she was seeing something she wasn’t happy with, but she plastered a smile on her face all the same.

How many times had I done the same thing when she had left with Devon? How the tables had turned.

Maxx is nothing like Devon. He would never hurt me, I told myself, hoping I’d believe it. And it was true. Devon was a bully. He took satisfaction in hurting others. Maxx was nothing like that.

The pain he caused was unintentional and most often self-inflicted.

But did that make it any better?

“I’ll be home sometime tomorrow,” I told Renee, who only nodded.

Maxx kissed my temple, nuzzling my hair. “Don’t count on being anywhere but in my bed tomorrow,” he whispered, goose bumps breaking out across my skin.

I let my boyfriend lead me out to his car. He held open the passenger-side door for me to get in. It was funny how something as simple as holding the door open for me melted my heart. It made it easier to overlook the things that left me cold inside.

“So I guess we don’t have to go find the painting, huh?” I asked as Maxx pulled out into traffic.

Maxx smirked, as if laughing at his own private joke. “I know where I’m going.”

“Do you know who X is, then?” I asked. It was a mystery I could admit I’d like to figure out. I had definitely become a fan.

“Yeah,” Maxx answered shortly, not giving me any more information.

“Well, who is it?” I prodded.

“What do you think of his stuff?” he asked me, changing the subject.

“It’s . . . strange and beautiful and dark and crazy. I’ve heard that a bunch of galleries are interested in his art. Is that true?”

Maxx smiled. “Yeah, it’s true.”

“So why doesn’t he sell some of it? He’d make a killing!”

Maxx stared straight ahead at the road. “Because his art isn’t about money! It’s about more than that. He doesn’t want to taint it with a desire to earn some quick cash. It’s probably one of the few pure things he has left in his life.”

Maxx was talking knowledgeably about the artist, speaking as though he understood, on an intimate level, what motivated the unidentified painter. Suspicion started to blossom inside me.

“And how do you know all that? You seem to know this X really well,” I said carefully.

Maxx’s jaw tensed, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles turned white. “I don’t know him at all,” he barked.

Okay then. Clearly X was a sensitive subject. But his gruff dismissal had sparked a hunch I couldn’t ignore.

“So where are we headed?” I asked when the silence became uncomfortable.

“A warehouse down in the city. Pretty close to one we’ve used before. It’s a good location,” Maxx said after a beat.

“How do you find the spots for the club?” I asked, posing the question I had wondered about since first going to Compulsion. The spots were picked with care and consideration.

Maxx’s smile returned. “I look for places out of the way that can hold a lot of people, where we can run a few transformers off the local grid. Most important is that it be as far away from the police as possible.”

“That makes sense,” I replied.

I tried to think of other things to ask him, since he appeared to be in a full-disclosure kind of mood, but my mind went blank. Maxx wasn’t in a hurry to fill the silence, so I let it go and tried not to feel tense in the quiet.

Once we got to the club, it was already heaving. The line to the front door wrapped around the block. But this time I didn’t have to wait my turn like the rest of them.

Maxx took my hand and led me to a door around the back of the building. Before going inside, Maxx turned to me and became serious. He grabbed my face and kissed me hard. “Don’t talk to anyone. Not unless I’m with you,” he warned.

I smirked. “I have been here before, you know,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. Maxx’s transformation had already occurred, and I felt immediately apprehensive.

Maxx narrowed his eyes at me as he pulled a baseball cap out of his back pocket and fitted it on his head. “Yeah, and you were almost trampled to death and had your drink spiked. And let’s not forget you ended up with a guy like me. I think that says a lot about your judgment.” His words came out like an accusation.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me through the back door. It was pitch-black. I couldn’t see two feet in front of me. The thumping bass filled the space, vibrating my bones and buzzing in my head. Maxx gave my hand a small yank, and I stumbled forward, catching myself on the wall as I collided with his back.

“You okay?” he yelled into my ear. I nodded, though I knew he couldn’t see me. And then I was being pulled farther into the building. We headed down a dark hallway, and I could see the familiar throbbing red lights ahead. The hallway led into a cavernous space, very similar to what I remembered from that first night when I had come to find Renee.

It was sweltering. Sweat was already beading along the back of my neck, and I had to lift my hair to get some relief. Maxx’s hold on my hand was bone-crushingly tight as he navigated us through the crowd.

His shoulders were rigid and his chin thrust forward. His narrowed eyes flicked through the mass of people. He was assessing, taking note. If it weren’t for his fingers gripping me, I would have thought he’d forgotten I was there.

People reached out to grab him as we passed. “X! You’re here!” a man said, walking into our path. He had called Maxx X. My hunch had just been confirmed. The artist and my boyfriend were one and the same. I thought back to the paintings—the woman who had appeared in every single one since I had met him, the girl with the long blond hair who always seemed to be walking toward her doom.