Neighborly Complications (Stories of Serendipity #1) (15 page)

“Y’all can have at the wine. I brought my own booze.” Max rummaged around and came up with a twelve-pack of beer before taking it to the kitchen to put in the fridge.

Claire was overwhelmed at the gesture of her friends. They were going to get her mind off the madness for a little while, and she was grateful. When Max returned, he put his hands on Claire’s shoulders and looked her square in the eyes.

“Are we okay?”

She took a deep breath. “If by ‘okay’ you mean, do I not want to skin you alive anymore? No, I don’t.” That wasn’t enough, so she continued. “I’m sorry for earlier. I was taking my issues out on you.”

He looked relieved. “It’s a start, I guess.” The corners of his mouth quirked up in a smirk. “I wish you were ready to ravish me, but I’ll take what I can get.” He squeezed her shoulders once before dropping his hands. Claire smothered a retort when she realized her mixed emotions on the subject matter of ravishing Max. She bit her lip instead.

“Are we going to drink first, then work? Work first, then drink? Or are we going to do both at the same time?” Summer asked.

“Let’s have a drink before we get started. I need to talk to you guys, before you decide if you’re going to help me or not.” Claire knew that they wouldn’t be happy with her decision to move, and if her moving depended on how fast she got the place cleaned up, they might not want to help her.

“Cool.” Summer bounced into the kitchen to pour two glasses of wine, while Max followed her to grab a beer. When they returned, Claire had swept some sheetrock dust off places for them to all sit in the living room.

“It’s a shame about the couch. I think my steam cleaner will get this dust out of the fabric, if you want to borrow it.” Summer was stroking the back of the plush sofa that Clare had spent too much money on because she loved it.

“I’m going to sell the house.” Claire blurted out the words. She figured it was like a band-aid, just get it all out there.

“What?” Max spit out some of the beer he’d been swigging when she spoke.

“My safety isn’t worth this. I can’t find the gold, the repairs were overwhelming before the vandals, I’m out of money to fix what’s happened, and I just can’t see how I can do it all.” Tears of frustration threatened to spill as she heard the words come out of her mouth. Hearing it out loud made it so much worse. She looked at Max, and kept the last reason to herself: He was more of a complication than she bargained for, but he seemed to read her mind anyway. She could see his jaw clench tightly, and his eyes got an angry glint to them as he nodded at her, a sharp gesture that implied aggravation more than understanding.

His jaw worked back and forth while Summer spewed consolations that Claire didn’t hear. She saw what he was thinking. He was angry at her for giving up.

“My mind’s made up. I’m going to clean up as best as I can, then spend a week on a last-ditch effort to find the gold, and then I’m putting the house on the market.”

Through clenched teeth, Max asked, “If you find the gold, will you stay?”

She nodded. “Depending on how much there is, yes. If it’s enough to fix everything, then the main problems are solved.”

Max finished his beer in one motion, then stood. “I’m going to get my tools. I can work on the molding while you girls pick up the trash.” He left without another word.

Summer looked at Claire. “He’s upset. He’ll get over it.”

Claire shrugged. “I know.”

“You won’t really leave, will you?”

Claire huffed out breath of frustration. “I was toying with the idea before the assholes came in and trashed everything. It’s just too overwhelming. I don’t know what I was thinking when I took on this project by myself.”

“Aww, honey.” Summer pulled her into a warm embrace. “You’re not by yourself. We’ll help you.”

“I couldn’t impose on you guys, Summer. Y’all have your own stuff to take care of.”

“Oh, pfft. This is what friends do. Don’t be shy about asking.” She lowered her voice to a stage-whisper. “Max is ready to jump through hoops for you, which is awesome. I’m so happy to see him ready to love again.”

“That’s another reason for me to move. Please don’t say anything to him, but I’m not sure about the whole Max thing.”

Summer’s face fell, but neither woman was able to get into anything because Max came into the house.

“Dammit, Claire. Can’t you ever lock the door? I could have been anybody!”

She stood. “You said you were coming right back, and you did. I wasn’t here alone.” Frustration at his attitude made her voice louder than she wanted.

Sensing the tension, Summer clapped her hands. “Max! Brent’s coming into town tomorrow! We all need to do something for him. He hardly ever comes back to visit.”

“That reminds me…the deck’s finished, and I was going to have a party tomorrow. I got distracted by all the…” He gestured vaguely, and Claire couldn’t tell if he was waving around at her or her house. “And I haven’t invited anybody.”

“Oh, I’ll handle that! What time?”

Max looked at Claire. “What time did I tell you?”

She wracked her brain. So much had happened. Was that yesterday? “Um…I think you just said afternoon sometime.”

He looked back at Summer. “Two o’clock? Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah! I’ll get right on it.” She rummaged around in the purse at her feet and pulled out a cell phone, going into the kitchen to make some calls.

Claire looked at Max to find him staring at her. “What?” She could tell he was still mad at her. His shoulders were tensed, and his jaw was still working back and forth, like he was fixing to lay into her for something.

He opened his mouth to speak, but inhaled sharply instead. He turned and picked up his toolbox. “Nothing, Claire.” He walked into the entry way and started making loud banging noises with his tools.

She knew he was lying. There was definitely something bothering him, and she was pretty sure she knew what it was. She could either follow him around, trying to get him to talk to her, or pretend like he was telling her the truth, and let him be.

She took the easy way out.

She and Summer worked on the opposite side of the house from Max, even though he was banging loudly enough they couldn’t ignore his anger. After cleaning up trash and sweeping sheetrock dust out of three rooms, Claire had finally had enough. Leaving Summer to work alone, she sought him out.

“What the hell is wrong, Max?”

“What will you do?”

She looked at him, unsure of what he was asking.

“When you leave. Where will you go, what will you do?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He dropped the cordless screwdriver he was using, and stalked over to her, grabbing her upper arms and squeezing them tightly. She winced, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m one of the reasons, aren’t I?”

She nodded, unable to speak.

“So you’re just going to leave me? This?” His eyes looked dangerous, and Claire felt a flash of fear. She didn’t think he would hurt her, but he was so angry, she wasn’t sure what he would do.

She licked her lips before answering, and Max’s eyes flashed. “Yes.”

“There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” She shook her head.

His hands on her arms pulled her closer, and she saw he was going to kiss her. He slowly dipped his head, his eyes never leaving her face, until they were a breath apart. A riot of emotions rose inside Claire. Desperation, need, and desire warred with guilt, pain, and misery. She could smell him, his scent almost overwhelming her senses. His breath mingled with hers, as he waited for her to close the gap between them and let him know she wanted him too.

She did. She couldn’t.

“Don’t.” Claire whispered.

Max pushed her away from him, turning his back to her. “You’re taking me out of the equation.”

“Yes.” She choked on the word.

“What about what I want?”

She shook her head again, still not knowing what to say. He couldn’t see her though, and when he turned back to her, the grief in his red-rimmed eyes was almost too much. He was going to cry, and her heart went out to him. But she couldn’t do anything about it.

“I don’t know.” She felt the impotence in the words. “I never meant for this to happen, Max.”

He turned his back to her again, picking up his screwdriver and a piece of molding, and climbed the ladder to get back to work. Claire went back to Summer and continued as well, a sinking feeling in her gut. Everything had gone terribly wrong, and she didn’t know how to fix it.

That night, Claire lay in bed unable to sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about how badly she’d hurt Max again. She seemed to have a knack for that, which was another reason she needed to leave. She wasn’t any good for him. Max deserved a woman who could take care of him, love him, not fight with him all the time.

They had worked and drank until they were exhausted. She had kept up with Summer’s frenetic energy until she couldn’t work anymore, even though she wasn’t really sleepy. She just wanted to curl up in her bed.

Summer and Max had each chosen bedrooms on the second floor, inauspiciously to be near her for protection, yet allowing her privacy at the same time.

She assumed, by the banging around, and Max was in the room next to hers, although she hadn’t seen which rooms they’d chosen. He was still angry, though. She listened as he threw his bag to the floor and stomped around the room, changing clothes. Then she’d heard him pounding his pillow and muttering under his breath, the low rumbly voice that sent shivers to her toes even through walls. Then, blessed silence.

Now it was the wee hours of the morning, and Claire was still tossing around in her own bed, wondering how her life had turned into such a mess. She heard a groan from the wall, and pictured Max in his sleeping bag, rolling over in his sleep. She imagined his face in repose, hard lines softened by sleep, hair tousled, mouth open. She heard another groan, this one sounding urgent.

Maybe he was having a bad dream? She got out of bed and tiptoed to his room, putting her ear against the door. She could hear heavy breathing, and mumbling interspersed with groans. Silently, she opened the door and crept inside his room.

He was sprawled out on top of his twisted sleeping bag, tossing in his sleep. His eyes were closed, but his face was a tortured mask that tore at her heart. He was having a nightmare.

“Stop…don’t leave…” His legs were twitching violently, and Claire sank to her knees, resting her hand on his heaving chest.

“Max.”

His eyes remained closed, but his hand flew to hers and gripped it tightly. He continued his moans and incoherent ramblings. Claire lay down beside him, pulling him into an embrace, trying to calm his dreams.

“Claire….don’t leave me,” he mumbled, still asleep.

“Shhhh…Max. You’re having a bad dream. It’s okay.” His arms went around her, and his face nuzzled her shoulder.

“Don’t leave.”

Unsure if he was asleep or not, she stroked his back in soothing circles. “Sshhh…I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you, Claire. You can’t leave me.” The words were as clear as a bell, and Claire had a sudden suspicion that he wasn’t sleeping anymore.

“Max?”

Nothing. His breaths evened out, and a soft snore came from him. Claire stayed until the sun was almost up before returning to her own bed.

S
un streaming in the windows woke Max from a deep sleep. He’d remembered having the nightmare, but something stopped it. He struggled to piece together the scattered fragments: the ambulance lights, running after it, not being able to catch it. But instead of Katherine in the ambulance, it had been Claire. He never saw her, he just knew with the awareness of dreams that she’d been inside the vehicle. Leaving him. He had called to her, and then she’d been with him, soothing him, making the nightmare stop. He sat up in bed and looked around.

He was alone. No Claire.

Max had been sure she’d been there, but that’s the way dreams worked wasn’t it? Of course she wasn’t there. She didn’t want him. She really was leaving him. Claire was scared. He understood that. But he didn’t understand her unwillingness to let him help her.

Max laid on top of the sleeping bag and remembered the attack yesterday. He tortured himself with the memory of running into her house to find her pinned to the floor of her kitchen. He hadn’t told her yet what he’d seen, there hadn’t been a right time for it, but he remembered it clearly. The frying pan had swung itself across the room and hit the man holding Claire’s head and shoulders while the other man had looked on. Max hadn’t done anything except chase the second man down the street toward the railroad tracks before losing him in empty box cars. When he’d come back the frying pan was in the floor but the man had been gone.

He didn’t dare say anything while the police were there, they would have thought he was crazy. So, he’d let Claire tell the story, not correcting her assumption that he’d been the one to wield the pan. Then he’d gotten into a fight with Claire, then the next time he’d seen her, she’d told him she was leaving, and that hadn’t been the right time, either.

He stood and pulled on some pajama pants before going to splash water on his face in the bathroom. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like hell. The dark circles under his eyes spoke of a string of sleepless nights, both with and without Claire.

For the first time in four years, Max thought of what Katherine would think about his situation, and pain didn’t double him over. He saw the irony in it. He had finally let his grief about Katherine subside, only to be thrown over by Claire’s rejection. He’d really thought he’d found someone he could be happy with, someone he could see himself having a relationship with, someone who made him feel alive again. Unfortunately, she didn’t think he was worth fighting for.

A plan began forming in his mind, and Max grabbed a tenacious hold of it. He continued thinking on it while he brushed his teeth. He nodded to himself and firmly stowed it away in the back of his mind to bring up later, when he and Claire were speaking again.

Max trudged down to where Summer and Claire were in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for what looked like omelets. Grabbing a mug from the cabinet for coffee, he looked at Claire, who watched him with a wary look in her eyes.