“I don’t know what his reasoning is, Isa. No one knows. He hasn’t visited in months. He simply went about his routine. I do know that he and your father remain friends.”
I can feel searing hot anger fueling my rage, threatening to spill over the edges. “He abandoned me.” I exhale through my tears. “They all fucking abandoned me.”
“Hey!” Max steps around the small counter. His fingers come to my chin. I find myself searching his face, focusing on his thick beard. The skin beneath his eyes and forehead is smooth and youthful, his brown eyes soft and trustworthy, yet intense enough to grasp onto my attention. He has brown hair that’s shaved short on the sides and a little longer on the top, enough to slick back—which he does. He’s not what I would expect from a doctor. He’s something straight off the set of Vikings. His proximity moves closer, muscles flexing with his movement. “I won’t.”
My eyes fall to his soft lips. The perfect bow that dips in the middle.
“Eyes up here, trouble.”
“Trouble?” I ask, tilting my head.
His hand drops from my chin, falling to either side of himself. “I called you that. You were a pain in my ass.”
He gave me a nickname?
I sigh. “Why are you helping me? Forgive me for having trust issues, but the men who were supposed to be there for me were everywhere but where they were supposed to be.”
“Simple.” His eyes remain on mine, unflinching. “I’m a good fucking person, Isa, and when I found out what was really happening at the clinic, I shoved you into the bed of my pickup and drove us out here.” He steps back, giving me some space. I’m appreciative of that. I feel as though oxygen isn’t being ingested as quickly as I need it to.
“And you dressed me?”
He shrugs. “There are clothes here from someone who I knew you could fit.”
I swallow. “So you’re helping me because you’re a good person? That’s all?”
Max searches my eyes. “I realize how difficult it could be to grasp that, but it’s true, Isa.”
I rub my eyes, feeling my energy drain. The crackle from the open fireplace burns in the corner, setting off heatwaves around the small cabin. I haven’t had time to look around yet, but it’s small enough to explore in ten minutes.
“It is hard,” I whisper, my eyes staying on the angry flames. “But I want to trust you.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
My eyes shoot to his. “I want to believe you. I don’t right now, but I want to. Is that okay?”
Max’s burly shoulders relax beneath his shirt. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck it is.”
Max gestures toward the hallway. “Come on. You must be tired. There’s only one bedroom, but that’s where I’ve kept you. You must have made your way onto my bed out here while I was out grabbing wood this morning.”
I slide off the stool, offering him a smile. “Thank you, Max.” I follow him to the bedroom and take in the area. Vertically placed logs make up the walls, and there’s a large queen bed in the middle with two white bedside tables on either side. A window is on the other side of the room, hidden behind a white curtain. The bed is unmade, probably because of me. There are clothes piled up on top of the only dresser that’s in here, all folded up neatly.
Max points. “More clothes if you need them. The bathroom is the door opposite this one, there’s food in the cupboards, so have at it.” My knees shake beneath my weight, the realization of my current circumstances beginning to weigh down on me.
“Well, yeah. Get some rest. We will talk more in the mornin’.” He turns to leave, but my hand flies out and tightens around his thick forearm.
“Max?” I whisper, turning to face him.
He licks his lips. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
The floor was unstable, as if it rocked against waves that threatened to tip it over. The smell of ocean and fish surrounded the small cabin of the boat and I blinked past my tears.
“Hello?” I called, banging on the only door that was in here. “Is anybody here? Help me! Please!” I’d bang. And bang. But no one would come. Not one person heard my cries for help. Finally, a blaring sun shone down from above me and I used my hands to shade over my eyes, blocking the violent assault.
“Who’s that?”
Anger is the perfect weapon; if you can handle the kickback. - Isa
I woke this morning feeling just as bitter, if not more, than when I fell asleep. The dream I had of me on a boat didn’t help either. I can feel all the ugly in me rising to the surface, but it’s different this time.
I can feel it.
I can recognize it.
I can embrace the way it slithers through my veins, threatening to head upstairs and enter the crazy side of my brain.