Chapter 94: Chapter Twenty-Two: We Fall, We Fight, We Figure It Out-7

“Luke—” “I’ll have two guards keep an eye on you. I’ll make sure—” “Luke!” God, he was fuming mad like I’ve never seen before. “What?” he demanded, his wild eyes glazed with what might be tears. “I have to protect you from her, Max. You’re in this mess because of me—because no matter how I try to distance you from the mess of my life, I can’t stay far away enough to keep you safe.” He tugged his hand away from my injured cheek and pulled himself up to his feet, pacing in a small circle in front of me, his fingers raking through his hair. “This is all my fault. If anything happens to you because of my stupid decisions, I will never forgive myself.” I watched Luke, feeling his torment wretch away section after section of my walls, wondering if there was a way to reach him and shake him awake from this delirium that he would cause me nothing but pain and grief. “I may not look like it right now but I’m not fragile, Luke,” I said softly. “I’m not invincible but I’m not going to fall apart at the slightest blow. You have to give me some credit. And give yourself some, too.” He paused mid-step and looked at me with a storm in his eyes. “I tried and every time I did, I keep remembering the kind of suffering I could put a woman through. Every time I keep thinking it would be different with you, I keep picturing your face when that time comes and I screw up so badly I end up breaking not just your heart but your soul, Max. I’m not even with you right now and I’m already taking you down with me.” “Then what’s the difference?” I asked, taking the handkerchief off my cheek and staring down at the spots of red on the pristine white surface. “Maybe if you let me in, we could deal with it together. Then maybe we can still be happy, even with all the crappy parts that we’ll have work through anyway. Right now, you’ve trapped us with just the crappy parts—even when we can have so much more and so much better.” Luke just gazed at me—all the longing, the pain and the desperate hope plain on his face. He clenched and unclenched his hands, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath he drew in and chased out of his lungs as all he wanted and all that he feared raced each other to the finish line. Slowly, he returned to my side, crumpling to his knees again, his hands taking mine. “Do you remember that first day we went into Cleo’s?” he asked. “You mentioned your parents and I promised you that I wouldn’t be that kind of guy to you—the kind who’d break your heart.” I nodded. “I didn’t think it was going to be a problem keeping that promise until I realized that I wanted to be with you. But to give in to that means breaking my promise because I’m still not the kind of guy you deserve to be happy with,” he said, lifting my hand up and pressing his lips against the back of my fingers. “But I want to be.” “Maybe you already are,” I told him, catching his chin and tilting his face up so I could look at him. “Max, you’re wearing proof of the fact that I’m not right on your face,” he said morosely. “I wanted to fix things, to fix myself, before even daring to take a chance with you. And every attempt just keeps backfiring and now you’re caught in the crossfire.” Before I could say anything, he put his arms around my waist and drew me closer. “Do you think that if I can free my life from all the women who haunt it and become a better man for you who might still screw up once in a while—do you think you can be with me, Max?” The earnest question, still anxious in every way possible, touched one final piece in my heart until the last of my walls gave away. “Yes, Luke,” I said, trailing my fingertips down the side of his face. “I’d want nothing more.” He paused and blinked, as if he hadn’t expected that answer, before nodding solemnly and turning his face to kiss my palm. “Then that’s what I’ll do. I can’t fight it anymore, Max. The only thing left to do is fight for you.” He smiled for the first time that entire afternoon before leaning forward to brush a gentle kiss on my lips. I smiled back against the curved shape of his mouth, feeling the warmth all the way down to my belly—a first as well for me in a long time. Then the door swung open and in came Peggy, apologizing profusely for taking so long because she had to call the police and deal with the security team. She carried a first-aid kit with her and an ice pack. Luke dropped one last kiss on my lips before stepping aside to let Peggy clean me up. Hee got on the phone with his lawyer, wandering out to his balcony just as their conversation got more and more intense. “Thank you for stepping in earlier, Max, although I wish you hadn’t,” Peggy said as she gently dabbed some antiseptic on my cheek. I bit my lip and made no sound despite the deep sting. “There are a couple of scratches. They’re not too deep so I don’t think they’ll leave obvious scars but still, it’s not going to feel nice in the next few days for you.” “I’m sure I’ll survive,” I said, keeping still as she carefully applied a small and thin strip of gauze over the scratches. “Luke might not,” Peggy joked as she secured the edges with some medical tape. “I thought he was going to choke Lola to death earlier after what she’d done to you. That woman drove the last nail down her coffin with that stunt today. It’ll all be ugly from here on.” “You’re most likely right,” I said, sighing with relief when Peggy finally pressed the ice pack on the slightly swollen side of my cheek. “But I’m not going anywhere. It’s time Luke knows that.” After his phone call, Luke returned to check on me and help hold the ice pack when my arm got tired and that side of my head started to throb. The rest of the afternoon became a flurry of cops coming in to interview us, a few people from work who’d come to check in on me—Jillian, Ryan, Terrence, even Bryce—and by the time my day was over, I just wanted to crawl under my covers and lie still until my head stopped spinning from today’s events. Luke drove me home and walked me up to my unit. He heated up some soup while I showered and sat me down on on the love seat to patch me up new again. We ate together afterwards, holding our bowls on our laps. “Are you going home?” I asked after we’d cleaned up the dishes and I was about to go brush my teeth. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders to draw me in so he could kiss my forehead. “I am home.” And despite the terrible day we had, we fell asleep in each other’s arms, knowing, somewhere in our hearts, with more certainty than we’ve had in a long time, that he might just be right. We were home. ***