Colorado 01 The Gamble (72 page)

Further, on the way to the hospital, as he
said he’d do, he’d called the Gnaw Bone Police Station and told
them what Damon did, saying I’d be in the next day to press
charges. After he did that, he took my hand but didn’t pull it to
his thigh. Instead, he rested his hand on my thigh and released
mine to shift then came right back to it, every time. Other than
that he didn’t say much, he was acting gentle to the point of being
tender but he was also obviously lost in thought.

And, I figured, after that morning, not to
mention him finding me having been beaten up by Damon, they
couldn’t be pleasant thoughts.

The good thing about visiting a small, local
hospital in the dead of night was that there was no waiting. We
found out very quickly that my ribs weren’t broken just bruised,
same with my nose. Even though the swelling was contained by the
ice, the bruising was already coming up, including at my side where
there was an angry, curved mark the shape of the toe of a boot. To
my horror, and at Max’s demand, they took photos of my midriff and
my face and, when we left, they promised Max and me they would send
the photos and medical reports to the Gnaw Bone police
department.

Max had been silent on the way back to the
cabin as had I, but he still held my hand.

I listened to the murmur of his conversation
in the other room as I stripped off my clothes and put on my
pajamas. Then I looked around the room, taking it in for the first
time.

The owners lived in a house about a quarter
mile up the lane that led to the cabin complex. It was definitely a
family run business, they didn’t even have an office, just a locked
key cabinet behind the front door and a guest register book on a
spindly-legged table under the cabinet.

Now I saw that they took pride in their
cabins. The room was clean, the wood planked floor looked recently
redone and the warm, sage green walls also had been recently
repainted. And there were touches here and there that showed they
made more than a small effort. Thick, blue, mushroom and green
braided rugs; prints on the walls that were chosen with personal
taste, rather than just a generic attempt at décor; the bed had a
duvet, not a comforter and the duvet was soft and downy, its cover
a tasteful design of the green of the walls and the blue and
mushroom of the rugs as well as some browns and grays; there were
four fluffy pillows on the queen-sized bed, not two thin,
unappealing ones, there were even a gaggle of toss pillows that
kept up the color scheme; and there were attractive reading lamps
on either nightstand with muted shades but, at the top, there was
an apparatus for the lamp to swing inward so it could throw light
where you needed it.

I was surprised, considering all of this and
the fact that each cabin had a goodly amount of space around it
with trees and shrubs providing more privacy, more quiet, that the
cabins weren’t booked solid. Then again, this all looked pretty
fresh so maybe the owners were new or they’d just done renovations
and hadn’t had time to get the word out.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Max said into his
phone as he walked into the bedroom and I realized that I’d been
standing there in my pajamas staring stupidly at the room,
examining the interior decoration.

I pulled myself together and walked to the
bed, turning on the lamp at his side as I heard him flip the phone
closed. He turned out the overhead light as I used the last of my
energy to scurry around the bed, throw the covers back and I got
in, listening to his phone hit the nightstand.

I settled on my good side, facing the room
and I saw he’d moved. He was now standing by my suitcase which was
resting on a chair across the room. He’d thrown his leather jacket
over the top and he was unbuttoning his flannel. I watched silently
as he shrugged it off, dropped it on his jacket and both his hands
came up to the back of his neck where he pulled the long sleeved
t-shirt over his head. Then he turned back to the bed and his eyes
hit me as he walked to it.

My breath caught, not just per usual at the
sight of his chest, but because it struck me suddenly he was there,
I was there and all day I’d been attempting to come to terms with
the dreadful reality that I was never going to see him again.

I rolled to my back and closed my eyes,
feeling it as he sat on the bed. I heard both his boots drop then I
felt it as he got up again then I heard the buckle on his jeans
crack against the floor along with the swish of the fabric.

Then the covers moved and the bed rocked as
he got in. The covers moved again, sliding down to my waist, my
eyes opened and my head turned to him as his big splayed hand
glided gently up to my ribcage.

It rested where Damon’s boot print was and
Max rested on his side, close to me but not touching me except with
his hand. His elbow was in the bed, his head was in his hand, his
eyes were on me.

Then his hand slid down to come to rest on
my belly and I realized I was holding my breath so I let it out and
when I did, Max spoke.

“All right, baby, let’s start this with you
tellin’ me what Harry said to you last night.”

I held my breath again.

I wanted to ask him to turn out the light. I
also wanted to ask him if I could go to sleep and we could talk
about this in the morning (or never). Mostly, I wanted to ask him,
before I’d so stupidly messed up and acted unforgivably selfishly,
if he’d really been falling in love with me.

What I didn’t want to do was tell him what
Harry said to me, not only because of what Harry said, but because
it was mostly about Anna.

But I knew I couldn’t hide behind my
neurotic behavior, not then. Max deserved better.

So I let out my breath and said softly, “He
told me about Anna.”

Max showed no reaction to this, his face
didn’t darken, his eyes didn’t narrow, he just asked, “What’d he
say?”

I pulled in air through my nose then let it
out and answered, “He said you loved her.”

“I did,” Max agreed readily.

I bit my bottom lip but let it go before I
continued. “He said she was your world.”

“She was,” Max agreed again and I struggled
against the urge to close my eyes against a different kind of
internal pain and won, miraculously holding his gaze.

“He said, after her, you had a lot of
women.”

“That’s true.”

I swallowed as this was confirmed and
finished on a whisper, “He told me that you loved her so much, when
she died, you were undone. And he told me no one was ever going to
be that to you, not ever again, and you and everyone would know it
and he thought I should know it too.”

Max had a reaction to this, his mouth got
tight, his eyes got dark and his hand pressed slightly into my
belly.

Then he sighed and his hand lightened.

Then he asked, “You know something?”

I pulled in both my lips and shook my head,
though I did know a lot of somethings, just not the something he
was about to share. However, I wasn’t certain I wanted to know what
he was about to share. I didn’t tell him this and, therefore, he
shared.

“When Anna died, it was her world that
ended, not mine.” I closed my eyes then but Max whispered, “Honey,
look at me.” So I opened them again.

“You don’t have to talk about this,” I told
him quietly.

“Yeah, I do.”

I swallowed again and my hand went to rest
on his at my belly.

“It took awhile for me to understand that,”
he told me. “About ten years. I figured it out just over a week ago
during a snowstorm.”

Oh. My.
God.

“Max,” I breathed and his hand slid along my
belly to my side, he carefully pulled me to his body and leaned
in.

“Harry doesn’t know dick,” Max informed me,
his voice soft but slightly harsh. “He lost Bitsy and I don’t know
why, I don’t care, it’s got nothin’ to do with me. It’s his
problem, he didn’t fight to keep her and everyone knows he didn’t.
He just gave up and let Curt win. His story is different than mine.
He gave up and had to live with his decision, Bitsy in the same
town makin’ her life with another man. I lost Anna because Curt was
bein’ Curt, it was outta my hands. He and I had our fallin’ out but
Anna and Bitsy were tight. They tied one on at The Dog, Curt was
designated driver, went to get them, take them home. About three
weeks ago was the anniversary of it all, Spring Break, kids in
town, doin’ stupid shit, gettin’ drunk like they always do. They
fucked with Curt, shoutin’ things out their car windows at him and
he had a short fuse. He lost his temper, thought he’d teach ‘em a
lesson, decided to fuck with ‘em back, did it and lost control of
the car. The kids swerved into a ditch, they were okay, goin’ fast,
shaken up but only minor injuries. Curt’s SUV rolled four times and
only stopped when it slammed into a tree.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered, turning slightly
toward him, my hand automatically moving to rest at his waist.

“Yeah,” Max grunted. “Worse, there was a
factory recall on the SUV Curt had. Somethin’ wrong with the back
passenger side seatbelt. Curt didn’t bother takin’ it in to get it
fixed. Anna’s seatbelt snapped and when the truck rolled, she flew
all over the inside of the cab, broke her neck.”

At that, I rolled totally into him and
wrapped my arm around his waist, whispering, “Max.”

“Not a mark on her,” Max whispered back but
his eyes had drifted away. Even though they were still on me, I
knew he couldn’t see me. He was seeing something else, something
acutely painful. I knew it because it was etched in his face and
witnessing it, I wished I had the power to put my hand there and
absorb the pain.

But I didn’t have that power, no one did. So
I just gave his waist a squeeze and Max went on.

“When I saw her at the funeral home, no
joke, she looked like she was sleepin’.”

I wanted him to stop talking but I didn’t
request that, I just pressed closer and tightened my arm around
him.

Max was still back there, I could tell by
the look on his face and the words he said next. “Wanted to kill
him. Christ, I was blinded by the urge, couldn’t think of anything
else. Not only did he kill her, actin’ like an asshole, but he did
it because he was a lazy son of a bitch, not takin’ his car in to
be fixed and he was careless, didn’t even warn her to sit behind
him.” Max’s eyes focused on me but they were still far away when he
said, “You know, I woulda taken her like Bitsy, in a chair, been
happy with that for the rest of my life.”

I knew that. I definitely knew.

My hand moved from his waist to wrap my
fingers around his neck and I whispered, “I know.”

“He had Bitsy, alive and breathin’, broken
but still around to laugh, to talk, to share his bed. Fuck, he
never got how fuckin’ lucky he was, comin’ outta that crash. Not
that he didn’t get hurt, but that he didn’t lose Bitsy.”

I stroked his jaw and stayed silent.

“It was Curt’s negligence that he didn’t
take it in when the factory informed him of the recall. George told
me I had a case but I let it go. Money wouldn’t help but money
meant everything to Curt so he didn’t get that. He sent Trev to
offer me a settlement, didn’t want me suin’ him, the asshole.” Max
shook his head. “Christ, he was such a dick.”

Yes, he definitely was.

Max carried on, “Anna had life insurance,
got the payoff, never touched it. Not when I was buildin’ the
house, never. Touchin’ it, usin’ it, felt like givin’ in.”

“Giving in?” I asked, confused.

Max focused on me again. “To her bein’ dead,
makin’ it more final.”

“Death is pretty final, darling,” I said
softly but carefully.

His face changed, a wave of that pain
sliding through it, his head dropped so his forehead was resting
against mine and he muttered, “Yeah.”

Still cautious, I guessed, “He mentioned her
in his letter.”

Max lifted his head and nodded and I knew
that was why the other Max came out that day, why Bitsy told me to
take care of him, because, bottom line, Curt was being a jerk.

“What’d he say?” I asked, my thumb still
stroking his jaw.

“Told me he was sorry. Told me he loved Anna
and it ate at him, what he did to her. I’m sure that made him feel
better, writin’ that out, makin’ him feel like a better man,
admittin’ to that. What he didn’t get was what that shit would make
me feel, how no apology could change the decisions he made leadin’
up to what happened that night. Nothin’ could change the fact that
his wife and my wife were in his car when he acted like Curt, not
thinkin’ that two precious souls were with him and the first thing
that should be on his fuckin’ mind was gettin’ them home safe. Not
pissin’ in his corner, provin’ to a bunch of kids who’s the bigger
man.”

As usual, Max was right.

“The fuck of it is, he was writin’ that
letter at the same time he was fuckin’ around on Bitsy with Shauna,
God knows why, no excuse for it. And writin’ that letter knowin’
that his life was in danger, as was hers, and he was dickin’ around
with a PI and not gettin’ the cops involved. He was writin’ that
letter apologizin’ for his stupid, fucked up decisions ten years
ago at the same time still fuckin’ makin’ ‘em.”

Again, Max was right.

And something else Max was and it was clear
as day, absolutely obvious.

He was not over his dead wife.

This hurt, worse than a kick in the ribs, a
punch in the face but I didn’t let that show. Not that Max, in his
current state of mind, would notice. He was far away, still
reliving a nightmare.

Instead of pulling away physically or
emotionally, which was what I wanted to do, my hand left his neck
to become my arm wrapped around his waist and I rolled deeper into
him, pushing him to his back and getting close, resting my cheek on
his shoulder, wrapping him tight with my arm.