To Have It All(62)

The fear and uncertainty I felt melted away as pity washed over me. He was referring to himself in the third person again. I realized whoever Max thought he was, he did not think he was Max Porter. So I decided to play along, wanting to provide the doctor I was determined to get him to with as much information as possible.

“Okay. If you aren’t Max, then who are you?” I asked, my voice raspy.

His shoulders sagged. “My name is Liam. Helen is my sister.”

The blood drained from my face. Damn, this was worse than I thought. Was Helen crazy, too, or had she just latched on to a mentally unstable man and played along with his disillusions so she could steal his money?

Just then my cell rang. Not turning my head, I shifted my eyes to it.

It was Matt calling me back.

Picking my phone up, Max handed it to me. “You can answer,” he said simply. “Though, I wish you’d give me a chance to explain before you call in your backup.”

When the cell stopped ringing, it immediately started again. Matt was calling back. Of course he was. I’d left him a cryptic voicemail and mentioned the name of a man he loathed. I knew answering and easing his concerns would be wise, but I was worried if I did that, Max would change his mind about opening up to me. This was a pivotal moment. I needed Max to agree to get help, but before I could encourage that, I had to make him trust me. I had to make him see I genuinely wanted to help him. Taking my phone from his hand, I ended the call and powered it off. Max’s mouth was in a tight flat line, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he watched me, waiting for me to say something.

“Okay, Max,” I said quietly as I set the phone back on the table. “Explain.” Taking his hand in mine, I squeezed.

I felt it.

Again.

The shock from our connection.





My heartbeat whooshed in my ears as we rode the elevator up to the fourth floor of the hospital. At every floor, a ding sounded, like a warning call; a reminder that my bad situation was about to get worse. I glanced down at Pimberly who was curled up, asleep in the wagon with her thumb in her mouth, hoping it wouldn’t wake her. I wasn’t happy about having to drag her out so late at night, but drastic times called for drastic measures. Waverly was convinced Max had gone mad and wanted to commit him. I needed to do everything in my power to convince her I was telling the truth.

My palms were sweating so I wiped them on my pants as I worked hard to remain calm. Glancing at Waverly I found she was staring at me. Her brows were lifted slightly as she watched me like she was equal parts concerned and scared of me.

“Thank you for doing this,” I managed after a beat. “I wish we could have left her at home and let her sleep.”

Waverly nodded a few times and faced forward, her eyes trained ahead. “She’s a heavy sleeper.”

The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped out onto the mutely colored tiled floors. I gently pulled the wagon behind me. The hospital lights were bright, but the floor was quiet and practically empty. A few nurses were behind the station desk, but didn’t bother to look up as we passed by. When we reached the door to the room where my body was, I stopped and turned to face her.

“It’s all going to sound crazy,” I admitted. “I know you already think Max is crazy, but promise me. Promise me you’ll listen.”

She cut her gaze to mine. Nothing about her expression or the forlorn look in her eyes gave me any hope in convincing her of my story, but in spite of the overwhelming hopelessness I was feeling, I knew at this point all I could do was try.

“Liam is in here?” she questioned. Even though she didn’t promise, I moved forward.

“Well, my body is here,” I explained. Looking to the nurse’s station, I noticed one of the nurses watching us, so I decided we better move inside the room before I went any further.

Opening the door, I let Waverly enter first, then I quietly pulled the wagon in and closed it. The monitor next to the hospital bed beeped and an air pumping sound whooshed as it moved oxygen in and out of the lungs of my body. Waverly walked to the bedside and stood, staring at the man that lay before her—staring at me—my body. I wanted to tell her it was the room’s poor lighting, the drab colors of the walls and hospital gown that made me look so . . . frail and feeble, but that would’ve been a lie. These things certainly didn’t help, but even before the accident, I’d looked bad. Living on the streets had slowly squeezed the life out of me, leaving only a shell of the man I had been before.

The one thing I could say for myself was that my beard had been trimmed and I looked clean. My hands and fingers were free from dirt, and my fingernails were short and no longer caked with grime. My hair had been washed, but it was longer than I liked. I didn’t look good, but I knew I’d looked worse.

“This is Liam?” Waverly asked.

“That’s my body,” I answered. “I believe Max is trapped in my body.”

This time her brows furrowed as disbelief seized her features. “And you’re paying this man’s medical bills?”

“Yes,” I admitted, feeling guilty. “I know it’s Max’s money, but I needed some time to figure out why this was happening.”

“And this man,” she pointed at my body lying in the hospital bed, “is Helen’s brother?”

“Yes,” I answered.