An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(115)

“Your friend came back to the gallery. He told me where you would be if I changed my mind about speaking to you.”

Riley. Well that shit was unexpected. “That’s why you’re here, you want to talk?” Max hedged.

Grace licked her lips and took a deep breath. “I wanted to know why you came tonight.”

Max took a moment to look her over, so spectacular in her dress. “I wanted . . . to see your work. To see you.”

“Why?”

Max clenched his teeth, nerves slithering through his veins. “Because I . . . It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, since we’ve talked, and I wanted to ask you—”

“No,” she spat, halting Max’s words in their tracks. “You don’t understand. You see, I’m fine. Tonight I was fine. I thought I was fine. And then . . . I saw you.”

Though he shouldn’t have been surprised, hurt sliced through him all the same. “I didn’t mean to mess everything up, Grace. I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” he stated quietly. “After I left . . . after what I said.” Max pushed his hands into his pockets and kicked gently at an invisible mark on the shop floor. “I just . . .”

“What? What do you want?” she asked, voice soft and expectant.

Max couldn’t meet her eyes. “I want . . . I don’t want labels. I just want you to be happy, Grace.”

“It didn’t feel like it the day you left. It felt like I’d been ripped in half.” Despite the vehemence in her words, she crossed her arms, clutching her elbows as if holding herself together. “I was ready to let you go—to try and . . . breathe without you.”

Her words stole Max’s own breath. “I know my apologizing, begging, groveling doesn’t take back what I said or how I behaved, but you have to know that none of what I said was true. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Then why say it at all?”

Max exhaled heavily and lifted his shoulders. “Because . . . when I arrived in West Virginia, I had this perfect plan. I was quite happy living my life, waking up every f*cking day, fighting my demons, my addiction, working with my uncle, moving on as best as I could.” He stared at her, so pure and lovely. “And then you . . . you just walked in like a damn hurricane and changed everything.”

She looked down toward his feet guiltily. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t ever want to—”

“No,” he interrupted loudly. “You don’t understand, you changed it for the good.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and stepped toward her. “I just didn’t know what the hell to do. I promised myself that I wouldn’t feel anything for anyone ever again and then all of a sudden I was feeling f*cking everything at once and I didn’t know which way was up. I still don’t.” Her green eyes lifted to his, tentative and hopeful. “You’re like no one I’ve ever known,” he added softly. “You see the good in everything, and everyone, even me.”

“But you ran, Max. After everything we’d shared, everything I’d told you, done with you.” She shook her head. “I trusted you and you said those awful things when I asked you how you felt.”

Max exhaled.

“I know you needed closure, Max. And I hope you got it.”

“I did.”

She smiled small. “I’m glad. But you were so ready to push me away to get it.”

Max groaned in frustration. “I needed space from you to clear my head of what we’d done and how I felt, and coming back here was what I knew. It was the only familiar thing I had among shit that was totally unfamiliar.” He gripped his hair before dropping his arms to his sides, defeated. His pulse thundered. “Grace, I—I’ve never felt what I did that night with you. With anyone.”

He chanced a glance at her but her face was unreadable. “But you still hurt me,” she whispered.

Max’s throat suddenly grew tight as he nodded despondently. He took a stumbling step to the right and rested himself against the side of the cherry-red Mustang. He had no idea where he and Grace went from here. What the hell else was he supposed to say? He had no idea how to fix the damage he’d caused or if she’d even want him to.

“This your father’s shop?”

Her question brought his head up, surprised. “Yeah.”

“Nice artwork,” she said, gesturing to the graffiti that littered the walls. Max had started it last week in an attempt to spruce the place up.

“Thanks,” he said. “I thought I’d put my newfound love of painting to good use. It’s therapeutic, or so Doc keeps telling me.”

Her smile grew a little. She appeared to gather herself before she spoke again. “I promised myself I wouldn’t ask you this, because I have absolutely no right to, but, seeing you now, I have to know.” She closed her eyes and said, “Did you sleep with her?”

Max’s response was immediate and clear. “No.”

She reopened her eyes, searching his face for a lie. “Did anything happen?”

Max’s gaze drifted to the door, hoping to all hell that she wouldn’t leave when he told her the truth. “What happened, Max?”

“When I was leaving,” he began, “she asked— We hugged and she kissed me.”