I had only rarely gotten a good look in the backyard. Before moving in with Max, our time at his house had been spent mostly inside, and even being here full-time, I hadn’t felt like going outside much. I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway, thanks to the painkillers I had been taking.
“No one can see us, right?” I asked.
Max took my hand and we walked to the edge of the pool. “The houses aren’t close enough.”
“What about from down there?” I indicated the beach by holding out my hand with the glass in it.
“Relax, Olivia.” He turned to face me, bent his neck and kissed me on the lips. “Let’s enjoy the morning.”
“It seems like you already are,” I said, looking down and seeing his growing erection between us.
He shook his head slowly. “You drive me fucking wild. Now, get in here with me.”
I followed him down the four steps into the pool. The water was brisk, almost too much so. “Guess this is as good as a cold shower.” I placed the glass on the edge of the pool.
Max held me in his arms as I wrapped my legs around his waist. He was kissing me lovingly, not lustfully, something he sometimes did but usually when we were just lying around together. Never when he was revved up, totally hard, ready to go, just like he was at that moment.
I didn’t say anything. I let myself enjoy his soft, perfect kisses.
After moving his lips to my neck, he kissed me on my shoulder, then rested his head there.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
He took a deep breath and released it, creating a few bubbles where the waterline met my shoulder.
I had my hand on the back of his head and I gently closed my fingers around a handful of hair and pulled his head back, looking into his sad eyes.
“What is it? Talk to me, Max.”
“I should have been there.”
“Where?”
He rolled his head to the side and looked past me out at the Pacific. “You know where. I can’t let it go.”
While I had been recovering physically and mentally from the attack, apparently Max was having an even more difficult time getting over his emotional scars from that night.
For my part, the physical recuperation was more difficult than the psychological one. Chris had been tormenting my mind for a long time before the night he showed up at my apartment to do…whatever it was he was going to do to me, after kidnapping my roommate Krystal.
I suppose the fact that I fought him off myself — pretty damn harshly, I might add — went a long way toward healing the mental scars he had left on me for quite a while. I had found a side of myself that I had no idea was there. An aspect of me that I had no reason to tap into until that terrible night.
I had protected myself. All on my own. My story not only surprised me, it impressed the detectives who were working the case. All of this combined to give me a sense of closure when it came to Chris.
Well, that and the fact that he had taken a plea deal and would be spending a great portion of the rest of his life in prison. Some of his time was the result of his breaking-and-entering into our apartment. Some of it was from his assault on me. But most of it was due to the aggravated charges he faced because of the way he injured Krystal and placed her in the trunk of his car. The fact that she sustained serious bodily harm that potentially threatened her life depending on how long she was left in there was the basis for the felony charge.
Anyway, the dreams were still there, but I knew I had already come a long way from that awful night to reclaiming my real self, and someday, probably sooner rather than later, the nightmares would be as much a part of the past as Chris himself was.
“Like I said in the hospital that night, you’re not Batman.” I smiled, trying to elicit one in return, but got nothing.
“It could have been so much worse.”
I kissed him on his forehead. “You have to let this go. I’m fine. I really am. He’s gone for a long, long time and I’m doing so much better. I handled it myself. And look where it got me. I’m here in this amazing place, with an amazing man. What more could I ask for?”
I leaned into him and kissed him, hard, to keep him from saying anything more.
ONE
Slowly rising out of the fog of a deep sleep, I felt Max’s hand on my shoulder.
“Do you need a Lortab?” he whispered into my ear.
I was lying on my right side, with Max spooning me. This is how we had been sleeping for the last couple of weeks. It was Max’s idea to keep me from rolling onto my left side where the broken rib was.
My eyes were slowly opening, focusing on the bedside table and the clock that read 5:42 a.m. “No, I’ll be okay.”
“You were groaning,” he said. “Does it hurt?”
“Not too bad.”
Max nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck, planting a soft kiss just below my ear. I nestled closer to him, as much as I could without irritating my damaged yet slowly healing rib. His warm naked body enveloped mine, contrasting with the cool sheets. Despite the little stab of pain I felt as we shifted on the bed, I couldn’t imagine a more comfortable place to be.
Or a safer one.
Max’s breathing grew slow and regular, and I knew he had gone back to sleep. I, however, probably wasn’t going to be able to.
I had indeed groaned in my sleep, but only somewhat from the rib pain. According to the doctors, I still had a few weeks to go until the pain would subside, and every once in a while I’d feel a quick, sharp, shooting pain in the area. If I were awake, it would make me reflexively inhale quickly. When asleep, it would sometimes wake me, but other times it would trigger a dream.
This night, I had been dreaming about the attack, the fourth such nightmare in the last couple of weeks.
They were just dreams. Nothing more. Chris had been locked up and had denied bail because he lived in Ohio and authorities in Los Angeles argued that he was a flight risk. The case was already over. There was no trial, thanks to Chris accepting a plea deal. I wasn’t all that happy about it, but I didn’t really have a choice. On the good side, though, it saved both Krystal and me from having to testify and face that monster once more.
More than once, Max had expressed guilt over the fact that he hadn’t been there that night to protect me from Chris. He’d been on his way over, but hadn’t arrived in time.
I brushed off his guilt, telling him not to think about it. What was done was done, and Chris would no longer be a threat to me. Each time, Max dropped the subject.
Not wanting to add to his guilt, I kept the dreams from him.