Forgetting How to Breathe
My eyelids fly open and my body sharply jolts forward, lungs desperately seeking air. I suck down as much of the precious oxygen I can hold. Every inch of my skin is drenched with sweat and badly trembling. I’m only in my bra and underwear.
Max undressed me last night?
A ball of warmth is comfortably nuzzled into the pillow next to my head. Birthday sleeps peacefully, entirely unaffected by my movement. I notice an empty wooden chair from the kitchen table at the head of the bed, a dark grey duffel bag stuffed with my clothes in the corner of the room, and the pleasant aroma of cinnamon and bacon and coffee wafting from the kitchen.
Max must’ve watched over me the entire night and called either Harmony or Falcon to drop my things off.
Inhaling deeply, I lie back down and stare at the ceiling. I passed out last night. Seeing that note was just too overwhelming, knowing that Hunter knew everything about my cutting, understanding that I caused him pain each time I did it, crushed my world. Max knew how I would react and he did it anyway. He deliberately hurt me. He didn’t care that he caused me pain; Max’s sole goal was to hurt me. Every male in my life so far has harmed me one way or another. Will it always be like this? Am I always going to encounter and be surrounded by spiteful, sadistic men who only intend to damage me?
I’m already fading into dust…
“Morning. I brought peace offerings.” My eyes slowly flicker down to Max. He wears a simple white cotton shirt and dark jeans. Max has a pale orange plate that’s stacked with food in one hand and the other holds Tyler’s brown teddy by the arm.
I swallow past the huge lump in my throat. “Is it really a peace offering if I own one of the items? And, let’s face it, your cooking really sucks ass. So I don’t think that counts, either.”
He snorts, amused and smiling. “Touché, Isabel. The good news is that I didn’t cook a single thing. My mother is the responsible one, and for the bear, I thought you could use better company.” He passes the plate to me, careful not to let our fingers brush. Then he lays the bear in my lap. Max takes a seat in the chair that’s facing the bed, intently watching me as I devour the sweet cinnamon bun, crispy bacon, and Cheddar omelet.
Mmm.
This food is heaven.
Taking a huge chunk from a bacon strip, I yank it from my mouth, suspiciously eyeing Max, who is staring at me as if fascinated to witness a reclusive creature from the wild. “What?!” I snap.
He cracks a smile. “Nothing. You can put it away for a little person.”
“Well, excuse me if I’m not allowed to show my enthusiasm while I eat food that shouldn’t qualify as food but as delicious edible art.”
He chuckles, placing his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his knuckles. “I’ll tell her that you like her cooking. I’m sure she’ll be over the moon about it.”
“I should tell her myself. Where is she?”
“She came over before sunrise to cook you breakfast because her son is an idiot and my cooking does quite suck ass.”
Nodding, I take bites of the creamy egg and almost moan.
“Isabel?”
I glance at Max, feeding an eager Birthday a tiny morsel of bacon.
He holds my eyes and swallows nervously. “I was a dick last night. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted so juvenile. It makes me look pathetically jealous, which I am.”
Pushing the plate away, I grab Tyler’s bear. “What are you talking about?”
Max shrugs. “Seeing you and Hunter back together is difficult. I truly think you should let him go, Isabel. And I would be lying if I said I’m not serving myself in the process, but there’s more to it than just my infatuation with you. I’m telling you to let him go for your sake. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I do understand but how will I do something so impracticable.
Letting go of Hunter Knight is like forgetting how to breathe. Once you take your first breath, it’s impossible to stop until one day you just do…until your last heartbeat.
“I’ll try,” I say, giving him a ghost of a smile.
“Can I touch them…your scars?”
Shrugging, I thrust my arms on top of my lap.
The bed concaves as Max settles next to me. He studies them before he traces the pale faint marks of flesh with the tips of his fingers. Little shivers ripple throughout my body. I try to stop it from happening but it’s useless to do so. I inhale sharply when Max holds both arms and kisses each scar. I try to shake him off but he doesn’t budge.
His eyes fickler up to mine with a sudden extreme desperation that leaves me breathless, then he squeezes my arms. “Let me do this, Pumpkin.” Max’s extremely determined gaze moves down to my battered arms, he resumes kissing my wounds that are bare for all to see.
I struggle with letting him do this. Tears stream down my cheeks and soft protest escape my trembling lips. Max rains tender kisses on my scored skin, shushing me at the same time. He speaks to me in what I think is Arabic and I’m instantly stunned into silence and fascination. Hearing his native tongue is like being wrapped in warm silky protective wings that caress my very soul.
Max is dealing with a person that he didn’t break.
***
The days drag by as I am imprisoned in this rustic haven. Every morning I wake with the same gasping and choking. No doubt that it’s trauma from surviving the cliff “incident.” I keep in minimal contact with Falcon and the crew. Max asked me to the Winter Ball, but I think he only asked out of guilt. I agreed to go to at least get out and experience joy, even if it’s not my own.