Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

O nce Max was warmed up and clean, he wrapped a blanket around himself and sat on the edge of my bed, towel-drying his hair and watching me, probably for any kind of signal that I'd noticed he was naked. Which I had, but I was behaving myself. Selfish Day again, although if we're being honest, selfish would have been me pulling him into that bed to help me forget all the awful things that had happened.

He hadn't had much choice about the naked: His wet clothes from the river, a black tee and black cargo pants which I had washed while he was gone about town, were in the dryer, and the clothes he'd changed into, a black tee and black cargo pants, were on the floor by the door. Two sets of black tees and pants; that was all he'd had for months walking the Trail.

I wondered how many different outfits Rowan Masters had. Definitely more than two and none of them the same.

"You know," I said, "there's a closet in Ozzie's bedroom that's full of his clothes. You're about the same size." Except you're a lot thinner. "He had a blue-checked shirt you'd look great in, and some Pendleton?—"

"Yeah," Max said. "I don't have enough people trying to make me the new Oz, I should dress like him, too." He finished towel-drying his hair, leaving it poking out in all directions. "But thank you for the offer. What did that Rowan guy ask you before I came in?"

"He knew my name," I said.

"How did he know that?"

"He did not say and I did not ask."

He looked awful, sitting there with a blanket wrapped around him, the lump on his forehead turning into a rainbow bruise.

"I'm mad at you," I said.

"Yeah, that's the kind of day I'm having," he said.

I went over and sat down beside him. "But I'm sorry you got so banged up, especially if it turns out it was over me."

"It's okay." He put his arm around me. "You're worth it."

If he pats me on the head, I'm going to do something horrible to him.

He kissed me instead, and I leaned into him and kissed him back because that's what we do. Max is a very good kisser; I love how warm and solid he is in my arms, how warm and solid and safe his arms are around me, but more than that, he's Max, so when the blanket fell off, I fell back onto the bed with him after all, just because he felt so good. I mean, I was not interested in sex with a guy who had one foot out the door and who had just treated me like a child, but he was nice and warm and he felt good next to me, and I wasn't a child, so I was up for a cuddle.

"Sorry I've been a little chilly today," I whispered.

"Icy," he said. "You've been icy, Rose."

"Okay then." I started to roll away from him, but when he pulled me back, I went. I really wanted to be next to him. Wrapped around him. Him wrapped around me. Safe and warm.

"I'm sorry, too, Rose," he said, his cheek against my hair. "I'm sorry all this stuff has happened to you, I'm sorry some of it is happening again, and I'm really sorry I have to leave you when this mess is over."

"Yeah, me, too," I said into his shoulder.

"I'm not the kind of guy you'd want around forever?—"

I sat up, knocking him back on the bed. "Do not tell me the kind of guy I want."

He looked up at me, startled. "I just meant?—"

"Stop patronizing me. That's the crap you tell yourself so you won't feel guilty about leaving me." All of the rage I'd been repressing came out, boiling. "I don't know if you're the guy I want forever, Max, I've only known you two weeks. But you're sure as hell the guy I want right now, and I do not want you to leave. So if you have to go, you have to go, but don't comfort yourself that you leaving is better for me. It's not. And it's not better for Poppy. I get that you didn't sign up for us, that we're not what you'd planned?—"

He pulled me down and pinned me to the bed, and I let him because I wanted him close. " No. I signed up for all of it, I had a choice to stay or go when Serena showed up and I stayed?—"

That was more bull, so I tried to push him off me. "You'd have stayed for anybody; that's what you do, Max, you save people." I blinked up at him. "And you kill people, I know that, and it's not my favorite thing about you, but you'd have stayed for anybody, you'd have killed to protect anybody?—"

"No." Max shook his head, sure. "I wouldn't have. I only killed for a mission and when there was no other option. And—" he frowned as if his own thought surprised him, "—now because I care about some people enough to protect them." He let go of me, looking suddenly exhausted, and fell back on the bed beside me.

And then we just lay there, side by side, trying to figure out not just what was going on in the other person's head but what was going on in our own, I think. Because I didn't know . In two weeks? How could I know what would happen if he stayed? How could he know?

"We need time," I told him. "We need time together. Time where nobody's killing people, time where we're just being us, if we're going to figure this out. Because I don't know. But I want to find out. And if after a while we realize it'll never work out, well, that's the way it goes. I mean, you're annoying the hell out of me right now, but I don't want you to go. And if this could be as good as I think it might be, and you go off down the damn Trail again without finding out, I'm going to regret it forever. I'm going to regret you forever. I don't want you to go. I don't mean stay forever, I mean stay long enough that . . ." I took a deep breath. "You think I'm crazy, right? Thinking two weeks of friendly sex might mean something?"

"Friendly sex?" Max said. "I have scars?—"

I turned on him. " Stop it . Don't make jokes."

"Right." He took a deep breath. "Okay. I care about you a lot. About Poppy. More than I think I've ever cared about anybody, which is just plain weird for me because it really has only been two weeks. But I'm not wired for this stuff. I'm no good at it. You're asking for something I can't give."

"What are you wired for? Your old life?"

"I was." He frowned. "Now? I don't know. I really don't. When I stopped my old life, it didn't work out well. Now? I was doing good on the Trail. I need to finish that, to think things through."

"Time away from me to think things through," I said, thinking right now.

"No, that's not?—"

"No, that's good." I sat up again. "How long is it going to take you to finish the Trail?"

He shrugged. "Depends."

"A month?"

"That should do it," he said, frowning at me.

"So you go back to the Trail, and after a month you'll know if you want to come back," I said. "And after a month, I'll know if I want you to come back. I mean, maybe after a couple of days, I wouldn't even miss you. You were a definite non-starter today."

"Hey," he said.

"I said, after a couple of days."

"I miss you now." He pulled me back down to him. I snuggled in, and he sighed a little and held me closer. "I'll miss you on the Trail, too."

"But maybe not enough to come back," I said into his shoulder. "And maybe I wouldn't miss you enough to care. We're in the middle of things now, everything's moving so fast, we've only known each other two weeks, maybe we need some time apart. Once you find out who killed Melissa, I mean."

"I just don't know, Rose."

I tried to think of something to say, but basically, he was being serious and honest and talking about his feelings, which was the worst thing I could make him do. This was important. We needed time to do this right, to negotiate some things. "Okay. Okay. That's fair. The break is a good idea. I'm with you on that." I sat up, ready to go back to work.

"Rose," he began, and I shook my head.

"Don't. You were honest and so was I and that's all we could ask for." I tried a smile, which was lousy, which tells you how upset I was. I can fake a smile for anything. "Hey, thanks for getting rid of Rowan Masters for me."

"No problem." Max frowned. "But it's weird that he'd be interested in Oz. I don't like this Rowan. I am not happy."

Neither am I. Suck it up.

Then I remembered. "Oh, yeah, and one more thing," I said, and he looked wary. "I appreciate the supportive texts, but they're a little creepy."

He frowned at me. "What supportive texts?"

I got my phone and pulled up the texts and showed him.

"From an unknown number," he said, looking serious again.

"You didn't send them?" I lost my breath. "Then who did ?"

"One of your suitors," he guessed. "From a burner phone. That would come out as an unknown number. I do use burners, but I didn't send those."

I must have seemed a little freaked out—because I was—and he added, "I'm sticking with you until this is all straightened out. Don't worry."

Right. Don't worry, and he was looking worried and not telling me what he was worried about. So I wouldn't worry. Communication. It's difficult.

I decided to change the subject. "Hey, I found some more money."

His head came up on that one. "Where?"

"Put on your clothes and follow me." I said, and he sighed and did.