Chapter 07: I Bet She's Cute

I totally fucking called it. I just knew shit was gonna go south sooner rather than later. Now, Rachel was covered in her own sick, that was now also on me after trying to get her cleaned up. Max barely held herself together, not even pretending to put on a brave face. It was like she was super-paranoid Rachel was gonna OD. I kept telling her it was fine. Rachel already got rid of everything in her stomach and it'd been close to an hour since anything went in her, anyway. But on top of all of that, the goddamned icing on the shit cake was that step-fucker was home early.

I turned to Max, her hand squished between Rachel's back and the back of the seat. The gesture wasn't to comfort or support Rachel… my girl was out cold and we weren't moving. Max couldn't relax without feeling that Rachel was still breathing. Well, as much as Max could relax. I don't think I'd seen her like her old self since her unannounced return. We had that in common, I guess.

"We can't take Rachel to her house in this condition, and it looks like the asshole my mom married is here," I said, pointing at his car. "If we're lucky, I can get her up to the shower without step-shit spotting us. If not, it's gonna be a real shitshow."

"Do you want me to try to distract him?" Max offered.

I had to bite my tongue to keep me from asking her to marry me right fucking there. "I can't ask you to do that," I said. My eyes fixated on the door, trying to come up with a plan.

"Why don't we go in, and if he's there, you can introduce us," Max said, her attention still pretty much locked on Rachel. "While I talk to him, you can come back and sneak Rachel in. That could work, right?"

Max had no idea what she was volunteering for, but fuck if it wasn't a sound plan and way better than my half-assed idea of how we might be able to drag Rachel's passed-out ass up and through my bedroom window. "Shit," I muttered. "You sure, Max? This dude is a real asshole, through and through."

"Let's do it," Max said, withdrawing her hand from behind Rachel. Rache groaned and resettled herself, but didn't come to.

Max hesitated a bit getting out the truck, no doubt still worried about Rachel. I reassured her that Rachel would be fine as we headed for the front door. Of course, the second I got through the door, step-fucker shouted from the living room. "That you, Chloe?"

Curses spilled from my lips as I closed the door behind Max. "Yeah," I replied as he showed up in the hallway.

He glared at me before setting his eyes on Max. My blood boiled as he frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

This fucker tries shit with Max and I swear…

"You must be Max," he said. "Joyce mentioned you."

"Uh… yes," Max stammered, her Max Armor coming up.

This shit was already off the goddamn rails. Max couldn't distract his ass with him having us pinned at the front door. Just as I was about to yell at him, he spoke again.

"Joyce said a lot of good things about you," he said. "Might be nice for Chloe to actually have another good influence in her life."

"Joyce told me about you, too," Max replied. She reached over, digging in her bag. "You're head of security at Blackwell, right?"

David nodded. "I am."

"Can I… show you something?" Max pulled out that folder with her internet searches. That folder full of her nightmares that she wouldn't share with me. "In private?"

Just like that, Max led David off to the living room. Her plan worked. Like a motherfucking charm. It might've made me happy if it weren't for the fact that whatever-the-fuck haunted her was in that folder. And she wouldn't show that folder to me, but fucking step-shit got unbridled access?

It ate at me, and the only thing I could do, other than storm in there and start yelling, was get Rachel upstairs and into the shower. Thankfully, she'd already started sobering up. Just a minute ago, I though I would have to shower with her, but she stumbled up the stairs without too much help from me. So I just helped her out of her clothes and corralled her into the shower. She might've been just sitting there in the tub under the shower's spray, but I knew she'd be okay. More important shit needed taking care of.

I went back to the stairs, but I only made it halfway before step-douche stormed out of the house. The car door slammed and I heard him peel out.

The fuck?

I rounded the corner and raced to the living room. Max sat there on the couch, face buried in her hands. As I got closer, I heard her muffled sobs. I saw red. "Max!" I put my hand on her shoulder as I knelt down in front of her. "What did that fucker do to you?"

Max shook her head. "He didn't," she muttered, swiping at her face with her hands. She then dug in her bag to get a tissue out. "I'm okay."

Putting my other hand on her free shoulder, I gave her a gentle shake. "You are not okay! I don't give a flying fuck if he's ex-military or whatever. I'll kill that bastard!"

"It's not David!" Max shouted back at me. She raised her head to look up at me, and I saw a sea of pain tainting those perfect, blue eyes. "It's not him…"

"Then who? Who the fuck hurt you?" I yelled at her.

She just stared back at me. I felt her cold, trembling hand on my cheek. "No," she said, her voice soft as she shook her head.

"God fucking dammit, Max!" I spun around, grabbing the first thing my fingers found and launched it against the wall. Whatever the fuck it was, it shattered with a satisfying crash.

Before I could turn back to Max, I stumbled forward, a warmth spreading across my back. I felt a wiry pair of arms wrap around me, and my anger left me. "I'm sorry, Chloe." I felt her breath on my neck as she spoke.

My hands moved to hold onto Max's arms. "Why?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even. "You can tell him, but not me?"

"I won't risk you," Max replied, holding me tighter. "I won't."

My jaw clenched. "Just… how bad is it? This shitstorm you're caught up in."

For a long moment, Max stayed silent. "Think of the worst thing you can imagine," she said.

I focused on Max's breathing as I tried to do as she asked. "You… got mixed up in some kind of gang bullshit and now they're gonna try to kill you and everyone you know?" I guessed.

"It's… much worse than that," Max said. The conviction in her voice sent an icy chill down my spine. "What I told David was just… the tip of the iceberg. The rest I have to handle. On my own."

"Max, I already told you, whatever it is, you can count on me."

"And I already told you, I won't risk you."

Tugging at Max's wrists, I pulled her arms away. I turned around, looking down into her eyes, their beautiful blue tainted with a red haze brought by her tears. "Who says you get to make that choice?" I challenged, keeping her wrists locked in my grip. "Max, if it means keeping you safe, or hell, just making you feel better, you can bet your ass I'll do whatever. Whether you want me to or not."

I felt her pull and struggle against me as she shook her head. "No! Chloe you can't!" She started flailing. Only after she kicked me in the stomach did I let her go. She fell to the floor, curling up in a ball. "I can't watch you die again!"

I had no fucking clue what was going on until I noticed that faraway look on her face. Her labored breathing. She kept on muttering, but I couldn't make out the words. Another panic attack seized her, taking her mind to some dark nightmare I couldn't fathom. And the girl who knew how to fix that shit was half-passed out in the shower upstairs.

Taking a deep breath in and out, I tried to calm myself down. I couldn't help Max if I was flipping my shit, too. This was like her regular freak-outs when we were kids, only dialed the fuck up beyond 11. I just… needed to help her calm down. Feel safe.

Kneeling down next to her, I reached out to pull her in, but the moment my fingers touched her, she flinched away with a shriek. I pulled my hands back. "Max!" I mentally kicked myself for yelling. Stomping down my panic again, I spoke softly, "Max, it's me. Chloe. It's okay. You're okay."

This time, when I touched her, she just kept rocking back and forth a bit, gasping and stammering. I pulled her in, wrapping her in a hug. At first, she tensed up, but as I whispered and shushed her, she started to relax. I didn't know what the hell else to say, so I just kept reassuring her that she was safe and that it would be okay. It took a couple of minutes, but she finally started to calm down. Even when she came back to reality from whatever fucked up nightmare haunted her, she stayed in freak-out mode. But that faraway look on her face finally left as she returned the hug.

I tugged her over to the couch, still holding her as we sat down. "You okay, Max?"

Max didn't say anything, but she gave me a nod. Over the next couple of minutes, I felt Max relax little by little. Finally, she spoke, "Sorry, Chlo. These panic attacks really suck." Her head rolled over, resting on my shoulder.

A greedy little part of me really liked having Max curled up against me like this. I felt like an ass. I put that out of my mind as best I could as I focused on the fucked up situation at hand. "You scared the shit out of me," I muttered. "Caught me pretty good in the gut, too."

"Caught you in the gut?" Max asked.

I pulled up my shirt and felt the smallest bit of disappointment that I didn't have a mark. "You kicked me right here," I pointed.

"Sorry," Max said, her voice quiet.

"Hey, it's probably just as much my fault," I said, giving her a good squeeze and reveling in the feeling of her little frame pressed against me. "I pushed too hard."

Just as I said that Max pushed against me. As much as I hated it, I pulled my arm back and let Max go. "Is Rachel okay?" she asked.

I sighed. I knew what that question meant. Leaning forward, I got to my feet. "I'll go check on her. You gonna be okay on your own?"

Max flopped over, sprawling out on the couch. "I might pass out, too. These episodes are exhausting." Then, she rolled over onto her back and rested her legs on the armrest, leaving her feet dangling out.

"I'll be back in a minute, Mad Max," I said, patting her shoes as I stepped by.

Not wanting to leave Max for too long, I bounded up the stairs two at a time. When I got into the bathroom, I found the water still running, but no signs of Rachel. "Oh, fuck me," I muttered, shutting the water off and praying that she didn't wander into Mom's room. I headed back to my room, and there she was, butt naked and still wet, passed out face-down on my bed. I enjoyed the view for a bit longer than I probably should have.

I threw some underwear on the bed next to her before grabbing an outfit of hers from my closet. "You'll give Max a heart attack if she comes in here and sees your naked ass," I said, reaching out and giving that glorious ass a firm smack. "Get dressed."

"Mmnph," Rachel moaned, somehow sounding sexy even while half-asleep. It sent a thrill through me. And I swear, she must've been able to read me even with her face buried in my mattress and half-passed out, because she followed that up with, "Why don't you get undressed?"

"Because Max is downstairs," I replied, sitting on the edge of the bed as I ran my fingers through her still-wet hair.

"She can get naked, too," Rachel muttered. "I bet she's cute."

Oh, God, if Max was down with that…

I shook my head, banishing my awesome, alluring, sure-to-get-my-ass-in-deep-shit-with-Max thoughts. This time, I roughly patted her shoulder. "Come on. Get dressed and you can pass back out."

She groaned again, more incoherent this time. I rolled my eyes. "Fine! Suit yourself." Chuckling just a bit at my pun, I took the clothes I laid out and threw them on the dresser. Then, I grabbed the blanket and threw the part she wasn't lying on over her. "Sweet dreams, Rach," I whispered, planting a kiss on the back of her head.

I headed back downstairs and back to Max. Of course, when I got back to the living room, I found Max asleep herself. Passed out on the couch. "Fuck me," I muttered, flopping down into the chair. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes. Truth be told, I was only running on a few hours of sleep myself.

A little shuteye might do me some good.