Chicago, Illinois
"...a spokesman for the city continues to argue that liability lies with the Great Lakes Dredge and Dock Company."
Mike glanced up from where he'd been occupied with putting dozens of tiny braids in Max's hair to look at the news anchor on TV. The city and some private company had been going back and forth for months over who was to blame for the leak that caused part of the downtown underground—including the building that housed Lake Michigan Records—to flood back in April.
He shook his head and looked back down at where Max was seated on the floor between his knees. She had her headphones on, methodically working through the stack of demo tapes she'd brought home from the office and scribbling notes about each one on Post-Its.
As of two months ago, she was officially an assistant A&R representative rather than Rick's personal assistant. Part of her job now was listening to the mountain of tapes the label got sent and flagging anything she thought had potential.
Apparently, everyone was looking for the next Nirvana ever since they released Nevermind last year and blew up the indie music scene. Now record labels were flocking to Chicago to see if it could be the next Seattle and spawn the next big thing.
There was rarely anything good in the mountain of tapes, but she was taking it very seriously, and he loved seeing her so passionate about her work.
Mike had recently entered the workforce and had a full-time job now as well, but unlike Max, he was more than happy to leave his work at the office. He'd been nervous about graduating and being out of school for the first time in nearly twenty years, but quickly got over it when he realized he got to come home and relax instead of studying for tests and completing assignments. And the biweekly paycheque didn't hurt either. He had a desk and cubicle, he made small talk with his coworkers in the lunchroom. It was nice.
Max shifted between his legs and the braid he'd been working on slipped from his fingers. She took off her headphones and turned around to look at him, resting her elbows on his knees.
"What do you think about this?" she asked, handing him the headphones. He slid them on and listened. A woman's soft voice… heavy bass line… obvious ska influence…
He took the headphones off and handed them back to her. "They're good. But they sound really similar to that band you were listening to a lot earlier this year…" he snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name.
"No Doubt?" Max supplied.
"Yeah."
"That's what I thought too," she nodded, tapping her pen on her chin. "But I think there's something there." She stuck a post-it note to the cassette case and wrote something on it in her barely legible handwriting before placing it on the coffee table in the barren "Maybe" stack. "It's this band called Tofu Tornado."
Mike wrinkled his nose. "How committed are they to that name?"
"Oh, the name's gonna have to go," she laughed. The phone rang then, and Max sprang to her feet. "I'll get it."
She picked up the handset from the side table. "Hello? Hi Mom, what's– oh." Mike watched her body language change in an instant. "He did? Wow that's– that's great. Um, congratulations… No yeah of course I'm happy for you, both of you…" He felt a pit forming in his stomach. It was easy to guess what the news was. She wasn't going to take this well. "Mhm, yeah we'll talk soon… Okay… okay, bye."
She slowly hung up the phone and Mike looked down, pretending to busy himself with checking the batteries in the TV remote.
"My mom and Wayne are getting married."
He looked up at her warily. Her voice was calm but there was panic brewing behind her eyes. "That's good… isn't it?"
"Yeah… I guess." Max avoided looking at him, her eyes darting around the apartment like she was searching for something. She raked her fingers through her hair, snagging on the braids Mike had put there. "Um, I need to get out of here for a bit. Velvet Alchemy is playing their first gig at Ax, I think I'll go see them, show some support from the label."
"Okay," he nodded, unsurprised by her reaction. She'd had a similar freak out a little over a year ago when Wayne and Susan first told her about their relationship, although Mike suspected they'd already been seeing each other for quite some time.
He bit his tongue when he saw her heading for the door in only her denim jacket. It was cold out and her fingers and ears would be freezing when she got home, but he didn't want to be a nag.
"Do you want me to come with?" he asked, already knowing her answer.
"Nah. Don't wait up, okay?" she replied, already halfway out the door and closing it loudly behind her.
Mike got up and walked over to the window, peering over the Clinton-Gore campaign sign they hadn't taken down yet. He looked down in time to see Max emerging from the building, head down and hands jammed in her pockets as she fast-walked down the street toward Lincoln Ave.
She was spiralling. He knew from past experience that if he followed his instincts and provided her with rational advice she'd just get defensive and pull away from him; she needed space to clear her head. Still, he didn't like her going out alone at night when she was so distracted. He wanted to follow her but he knew that if he pushed her now she'd only retreat further into her shell.
Mike sighed and threw himself back down on the couch, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and the edge of his forefingers. Things had been really good for the past couple of years, so he supposed they were overdue for a trainwreck.
The relationship between Max and her mom had been decent since their senior year of high school, but it would always be missing a certain degree of trust on Max's part. There was no erasing those tumultuous formative years when Max had to be her own parent; even worse were the nights when she practically had to be Susan's parent. There was no erasing that trauma.
He tried not to resent Susan for it all, knowing she hadn't had an easy go of life either, but it was so hard to see the woman he loved revert back into a scared little girl again who she was worried about finding her mother unconscious on the sofa.
From the earlier days of their relationship, when they'd get stoned at the record store and Max would be overcome with the need to unburden herself, he'd learned about the drunken rants her mother would often go on—lectures that oscillated between telling Max to always make herself desirable so she could snag herself a husband who could take care of her, and warning her of the dangers of men and how they would lie and cheat and break her and leave her. He knew that stayed with her for a long time.
Mike turned the TV off and ran his hand through his hair, caught off guard by the length. He'd started wearing it shorter ever since he entered the workforce and still forgot sometimes. Max had been dismayed but he knew not looking like a teenage dirtbag had helped him in job interviews.
He stood and made his way towards the bedroom, hoping Max just needed a night to herself to organize her thoughts before talking to him about what was bothering her.
A shrill, piercing sound startled him awake.
The phone.
Disoriented, Mike glanced at the clock. The bright red numbers flashed 2:24 AM. The other side of the bed was untouched, and he knew instantly it wasn't a good phone call.
"Hello?"
"Is this Max's boyfriend?" a female voice shouted. He could hear music and the dull roar of a crowd in the background.
His heart leapt into his throat. Why couldn't Max call him herself? "Um yeah, who's this?"
"I'm Nora, I'm the singer for Velvet Alchemy. Um… Max is here and she's pretty fucked up. This number was in her wallet so I figured I'd call–"
"What? What do you mean 'fucked up'?"
"I dunno man, she took a bunch of stuff and she's kind of out of control. You should probably come get her before she gets kicked out…"
Stuff? A wave of nausea washed over him. "Are you still at Lounge Ax?"
"Yeah, we just finished our set a few minutes ago."
"Okay, I'm on my way, just… don't let her leave, okay?"
Scrambling, Mike threw on the jeans and sweatshirt that lay crumpled on the floor, uncaring that the sweatshirt was inside out and backwards.
"Fucking Converse!" he hissed as he hopped on one foot, trying to jam his feet into his hightops without unlacing them. He threw on his black parka as well as his hat, gloves, and Max's dark green scarf and sprinted out the door.
He took off running down the street. It was cold and he could see his breath coming out in white puffs. His lungs were aching by the time he reached Lincoln Avenue even though it was only a few blocks away, and in the back of his mind, he thought he should probably try and be more active.
Terrifying scenarios flashed through his mind, his only solace being that she hadn't been taken to a hospital yet, so she couldn't be that bad. He knew he shouldn't have let her go out by herself; he should have insisted he go with her.
He loved her so much, he really did, but sometimes he just wished he could shake her and make her see that she's not her mom and he's not some asshole guy and they're not doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past.
The sign for Lounge Ax came into view and he slowed to a jog, panting as he yanked open the door. Lounge Ax was a strange bar—the whole space was a single long, narrow room with a bar on one side and a tiny stage at the back. The black-painted asbestos ceiling was criss-crossed with colourful Christmas lights and the shelves and purple walls were inexplicably decorated with Elvis paraphernalia, but somehow they managed to attract some of the best musical acts in the industry. Currently, the stage was vacant, a Blur song blaring through the speakers instead.
It wasn't hard to spot Max. She was in the middle of the room, standing unsteadily on a chair and trying to get onto the table while two girls who he assumed were in the band tried to coax her down.
He shoved through the crowd. "Max!"
She turned, nearly toppling off the chair in the process, and grinned when she saw him. "Baby!"
Jesus, Mike thought. She really was fucked up because she'd never once in their six-year relationship called him that before.
When he reached her he wrapped both hands around her waist and lowered her gently to the floor before grabbing her chin and looking into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, her eyes glazed and slightly manic, black eyeliner smudged underneath them like a raccoon.
She grinned even wider. "You gonna kiss me?" she slurred, puckering her lips and tilting her chin up. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead to appease her. She felt hot like she had a fever.
Wrapping his arm around her waist to support her, he beckoned over one of the girls who had been trying to get Max down from the table. She had a short black bob and a tattoo of a spiderweb on her throat.
"I'm Nora, are you the boyfriend?" the girl said, looking at Max with concern.
He nodded. "What did she take?"
"Definitely some blow and some pills. And she's been drinking."
"What kind of pills?"
Nora shook her head. "Didn't get a good look at them, but it seems like uppers."
Fear gripped his heart. "Do I need to take her to a hospital?"
"As long as she doesn't pass out or start throwing up she'll just have to ride it out," Nora shrugged. "She also broke a glass earlier, I think it cut her hand."
He glanced down and noticed a streak of blood where Max had been clutching at his forearm. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging her body weight off of him and causing him to nearly topple over.
They'd partied before, even took acid at Lollapalooza over the summer, but he'd never seen her like this. The news must have upset her more than he thought if she'd felt the need to get completely fucked up to take her mind off of it.
"Are you here to dance with me? No one wants to dance with me," she pouted, trying to tug him towards the empty dance floor.
A tall, burly man dressed in black who appeared to be a bouncer came over, a stern look on his bearded face. "This your girl?" Mike nodded. "She's gotta go man, she's been out of control all night."
"Yes, we're going," Mike said, urging Max towards the door. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't make me go!" she whined as he manhandled her towards the exit.
"Yes Max, we need to get you home," he said firmly as they emerged into the cold night air. "Let me see your hands." She giggled, snatching her hands away playfully as he tried to get a look at her palms. "For fucks sake, Max," he snapped after a few seconds, grabbing her wrists and holding them up in the dim light of the street lamp.
"Relax, baby," she laughed at his stern tone. "It's all good."
"It's not all good," he grumbled as he inspected the bloody, jagged cut on her right palm. There didn't seem to be any glass embedded, and it was a fairly shallow cut, so he didn't think she'd need stitches.
He let go of her for a second to grab his gloves and her scarf. "Here, put these– Max!" In the split second that he looked away, she'd taken off running down the street.
"Max!" he shouted as he chased after her. How the fuck is she so fast? I really need to exercise. "Get back here!"
She rounded the corner down a side street and he lost sight of her. Panic seized in his chest. If she went down some random alley he'd never be able to track her down.
Red and blue lights were flashing as he careened around the corner after her, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Max stopped, talking to a police officer who'd rolled down his window.
"Are you okay, miss?" the officer called out.
She threw her head back and laughed. "Fuck off, pig!"
"Oh my god, okay," Mike muttered as dashed over to her, covering her mouth with his palm before she said something that would get them both thrown in jail. "I'm sorry officer, my girlfriend's had a lot to drink," he explained apologetically.
The cop narrowed his eyes at Mike and looked back at Max, who'd wrenched his hand away from her mouth. "Is this your boyfriend, sweetheart?"
"No." Mike's whole body tensed as the police officer frowned and moved as if to get out of his vehicle. "He's my Mike!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek.
Mike exhaled in relief as the officer sighed and shook his head. "Get her home, son."
"Yes sir, sorry again."
The cop rolled up his window and drove away, and Max started skipping down the street, in the opposite direction of home.
"Where are we going, babe?" he relented, not wanting to spook her into running away again.
"I'm thirsty!" she exclaimed, beelining for the twenty-four-hour convenience store across the street.
As they wove through the fluorescently lit aisles she piled things in his arms—trail mix, candy, lip balm, beef jerky, sunglasses. Mike put nearly everything back as soon as she handed it to him, shooting an apologetic look at the cashier who was watching them with weary eyes.
He took their items to the cash register, passing Max the bottled water which she started chugging before he'd even paid. He got an energy drink for himself because with how high she was it seemed they weren't going to sleep anytime soon.
When they got back outside she took off down the deserted street again. "Come on, we're almost there!"
Mike sighed, cracking open his energy drink as he followed her. After another ten minutes of walking during which Max hummed an unidentifiable tune to herself, a park came into view and he saw a sign for Diversey Harbor.
"Almost where, Max?" he called out, not sure he wanted to hear what their destination was.
"I wanna see the water!" God damn it. The last thing he needed was her taking a freezing cold dip in the Great Lakes.
She waited for him at the entrance to the park, taking his hand when he reached her and pulling him along. Mike flinched. Her fingers were like icicles. "Jesus Max, will you at least take my gloves?"
"No way, I'm so warm."
They walked by the harbour. Almost all the boats had been taken out and put into winter storage by this time of the year. The black water was eerily still, the surface like glass. They passed under the highway and reached the path that followed the lakefront, the cold air biting at his exposed skin.
Max dashed ahead to the water's edge and Mike felt his heart leap into his throat. But she only threw her arms out and laughed while the frigid wind coming off the lake whipped her hair back. He approached her cautiously, hands flying out to steady her when she clambered onto the low wall separating the path from the water. She stood on one foot, pretending she was about to fall over and laughing when he flinched.
"Chill out, Wheeler," she chuckled, arms extended to the sides as she carefully placed one foot in front of the other. "Who's the coordinated one out of the two of us?"
He lowered his hands and shook his head, certain he'd aged at least five years over the past hour. "Just… be careful, please."
It was silent while they looked out at the endless inky water, lights from fishing boats and shipping freighters blinking on the horizon. In just a few weeks it would start to freeze, and the air would be filled with the creaking and crunching of ice chunks breaking off and battering the shore. The meteorologists said it was going to be a bad winter.
"They've been together less than two years, it's ridiculous," Max said abruptly. Mike remained silent and came to stand beside her, leaning his hands on top of the wall.
"I mean they're not getting any younger," he said after a minute. "They probably don't wanna waste time."
"Third marriage," she scoffed, ignoring his comment. "I mean why keep trying at this point? And you know this is actually her fourth engagement? One of them didn't even make it down the aisle before it all blew up." She laughed bitterly. "It's what she does, Mike. She ruins things, and she lets them ruin her."
"Maybe she's changed."
Max snorted. "I've heard that one before."
Mike didn't know what to say. He knew she'd probably never fully trust her mom again after everything she put her through. She lowered herself down so she was sitting on the ledge, her feet dangling over the water. He quickly joined her, peering uneasily down at the gentle waves lapping at the shore.
"I just– why would she do this again when she knows it's what drove her to drink every time? It's selfish and… irresponsible." He glanced over and noticed she was grinding her teeth, and her knee was shaking like it was a struggle to sit still. "I can't do it again, Mike," she said quietly, shaking her head. "I can't pick up the pieces when he leaves her."
He reached out and took her ice-cold hand between both of his. "Maybe he won't. But if he does, I'll be here. It won't be just you. It'll never be just you anymore babe, you gotta know that."
She pulled her hand back, sticking it between her knees with the other one. "Are you sure about that?"
"What– of course I am."
She turned her head to look at him, resting her chin on her shoulder. "Doesn't it get exhausting? Having to hold me together all the time? Because I'm exhausted just being in my head."
Mike frowned and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her. "No Max, I know what I signed up for. You think after six years I don't know the price of admission?" He pressed his lips to her temple. "Do your worst. I can handle it."
Max exhaled and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I guess I'm still scared that one day you'll have enough," she confessed quietly, and he knew she wouldn't be saying this if she were sober.
"Do you trust me...?" he asked, because he was still a bit of a selfish asshole and couldn't help making it about himself. She nodded against his shoulder. "Well then trust me when I tell you that I'm not going anywhere, Mayfield. What can I do to prove it to you?" he questioned somewhat desperately. "I'll do anything, just tell me."
After a few long moments, she deflated, relaxing and leaning into his body. Wet snow had started falling, big white flakes swirling around them and sticking to their clothes.
She shivered, as if suddenly aware of how cold it was. "Can we go home now?"
"Yeah," Mike nodded, kissing the top of her head, "let's go home."
They walked back in silence, hand in hand. He'd managed to convince her to wear his gloves and wound her scarf tightly around her neck. The warmth of their building enveloped them like a welcoming embrace, and as soon as they got into their apartment Max headed for the shower to warm up and wash the spilled drinks out of her hair.
Mike sat down on the couch to roll a joint to help her with the comedown from whatever she'd taken. He didn't even want to look at the clock but he could swear it was already less dark outside than it had been five minutes ago. He opened up their grinder, frowning when he saw it was empty.
"Max, where's your stash?" he shouted through the bathroom door.
"Back of my drawer!" she answered.
He made his way to their bedroom, going to their dresser and reaching to the back of her top drawer, feeling around for the plastic baggie. Instead, his fingers brushed against something smooth and almost rubber-like. Intrigued, he grabbed it and pulled it out, his eyebrows flying into his hairline when he realized what it was. A vibrator. Max's vibrator. It was about the length of his pinky finger and bullet-shaped… and pink. He never even knew she had one. Chuckling to himself, he tossed it on her side of the bed, fully intending to tease her about it when she came out of the shower.
Eventually, he found the bag of weed in the drawer as well and busied himself with rolling it up. He was just twisting the end of the paper tightly closed when he heard the shower turn off, and Max entered a few minutes later, hair wet, body wrapped in her white towel.
"God that is so much bet–" she froze when she noticed what was laying in the middle of the bed.
Mike grinned. "I found your little friend."
"Oh my god," she groaned, cheeks blushing bright red as she lunged for it. He didn't let her, snatching it away before she could reach it. "I got it when you were away last summer!" she explained, flopping down onto the bed and covering her face with her hands.
"How often did you use it?" he asked, turning the device over in his hands.
"I don't know," she sighed, crossing her arms over her face. "Every other day?"
"That often?"
"It was really boring without you here, okay?" she snapped. "Now gimme that." She sat up and snatched it out of his hands, setting it on her bedside table. "Are we smoking or what?"
Mike handed Max the joint, and she put it in her lips while he brought the lighter up to the end, flicking it on and lighting it for her. She took a long drag and fell back onto the pillows as she exhaled before passing the joint to him.
After a few minutes of smoking in silence, Mike nodded at the discarded vibrator. "So what, you just like… got under the covers and put that thing between your legs?"
Max rolled her eyes as she took another drag. "You want a demonstration or something?"
He grinned and shrugged casually, fidgeting with the corner of her towel. "Kind of."
He prepared himself for a kick to the stomach, but instead, she passed him the joint and grabbed the top of her towel, pulling it open and revealing her naked body. Mike nearly choked as he took her in, pale and flawless in the soft light of the lamp. Kneeling over her, he leaned down and blew smoke over her torso, mesmerized as it swirled over her curves.
He extinguished the joint in the ashtray on the nightstand and was just about to lower himself down to kiss her, but her bare foot landed on the front of his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
"I thought you wanted to see how I touched myself. That means no help from you," Max said, eyebrow raised in a challenge.
Mike sighed and sat back on his feet, reaching up and pressing his thumb into the arch of her foot. All the blood in his body began rushing south as she trailed a hand down her chest. She reached over and grabbed the vibrator, twisted the top until it buzzed to life and then slid it between her legs.
"What would you think about?' he asked, eyes glued to where she was moving the toy in lazy circles.
"Hmm…" Max pretended to ponder. "Keanu Reeves in Point Break… Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise…" She grinned at the look of displeasure on Mike's face. He pursed his lips, pretending to be offended, although inwardly he was ecstatic that she'd finally cracked a smile.
"Aw, what's the matter, Wheeler?" She stuck her bottom lip out in a fake pout that he wanted to bite down on. "You thought I was gonna say you?" He actually did find himself feeling a little jealous, but then he saw the left corner of her mouth twitch and he knew she was lying, it was a dead giveaway.
She was visibly aroused now—her breath had quickened, nipples hard in the cool air of their room, and he was more than a little hard, his dick starting to strain against the front of his jeans. When he couldn't sit back and watch her for a second longer, he leaned forward, grabbing the vibrator out of her hand and turning it off, tossing it onto their carpeted floor.
"Can't help yourself?" she chuckled breathlessly. As much as Mike wanted to throw her legs over his shoulders and go to town on her, he forced himself to slow down, gently grabbing her chin and studying her eyes. He didn't want to do this if she was still too fucked up.
He turned her head from side to side and noted that he could see more of her pale blue irises now. Her pupils were still enlarged but she looked less manic and a lot more present than she had earlier in the night. He sighed in relief and sat back on his knees again. They would discuss her self-destructive tendencies more tomorrow, but he knew what she needed right now to get out of her own head, and it wasn't talking.
Her toes were still pressed to his chest, so he grabbed her foot and moved her ankle to the top of his shoulder, turning his head to the side and trailing his lips over the inside of her calf. She sucked in a breath at the touch of his mouth, relaxing back again and letting her other leg fall open.
Gently, he ran his fingers over the soft skin of her inner thigh, drawing circles as he neared the apex of her thighs. When he finally swiped a finger through her slick folds she gasped, hips twitching up for more friction. He didn't grant it to her, keeping his touch teasingly light as he stroked back and forth over her clit.
"Mike," Max whined after a few minutes. "Please…" Mike snickered as he dipped the tip of her finger into her opening and pulled back immediately, earning a glare from her.
"I'll make you come," he started, dragging his fingers through her copious wetness. "If…" Her eyes flew open and then narrowed when she saw the devious grin on his face. "If you tell me the truth about who you think about when you touch yourself."
"I already told you," she growled, grinding her hips down in an attempt to get his fingers inside her.
He shook his head, pulling his hand back until his middle and index finger were just barely inside her. "Just admit that you think about me."
She huffed out a laugh that was more of a frustrated sob. "In your dreams."
"Fine then." He removed his hand completely, smirking at the exasperated whine she let out.
This cycle of teasing and pulling back continued for several more minutes, and he gave her a little more every time until she was red in the face, a thin sheen of sweat glistening over her heaving chest.
"Come on, Max," he coaxed, sinking a single finger inside her and pulling it out completely a few times. "Just tell me it's me." She grit her teeth and shook her head stubbornly. He decided to change tactics, and as his dick was painfully hard at this point, he stood up and shed his clothes before kneeling between her legs again.
He pressed her knees up to her chest and then took hold of his cock, slowly rubbing the head up and down her dripping slit. She groaned and writhed beneath him, desperately pushing her hips up to try and align him with her entrance.
"God, fuck! It's you, okay? she finally relented after another agonizing minute during which Mike very nearly caved himself. "It's always you, only you," she panted. "Now would you please just– ah!" He slid inside her in one fluid movement, hands grabbing her hips as he immediately began to thrust.
"I fucking knew it," he grunted as he tipped forward, bracing himself on his elbows above her so he could go even deeper into her wet heat. "Now was that so hard?" She shook her head rapidly, moaning into his mouth when he leaned in and captured her lips in a messy kiss that was more teeth and tongues than anything else.
By the way she tightened around his length, he could tell that she was close, but the way her brows knit together in frustration told him she couldn't quite get there. It sometimes happened when she was especially anxious, unable to shut out the thoughts racing around her brain in spite of how badly she wanted release.
"Let go, Max," he whispered, brushing her hair away from where it had gotten plastered to her face, "come on."
He dropped his hand down to her clit, pressing down hard in the way he knew she often needed. She closed her eyes tightly, her nails digging into his back as she tried to let the sensations overtake her.
Switching up his pace so he was plunging into her slow and deep, he lowered his lips next to her ear. "I will never not want you, Max," Mike spoke softly as he continued to thrust. "Anything you can give, I want it. Good, bad," he pinched her clit and she cried out loudly, her walls clenching around him again, "it doesn't matter to me. It's all you."
His words coupled with the ministrations of his hand seemed to finally tip her over the edge, and she sobbed out his name and she tensed beneath him, nails raking down his back and body quivering in ecstasy. She dragged him down with her, and he groaned loudly into her damp, clean-smelling hair as pleasure radiated out through his fingers and toes, his vision going white as he emptied himself inside her.
He collapsed on top of her while he came back to himself slowly, and when he finally gathered the strength to lift himself up he saw that she was crying. Rolling to the side and bracing himself on his elbow, he gently wiped her tears away with his thumb.
"It's okay," he murmured. "I've got you." He knew he didn't hurt her, it was just all her pent-up, overwhelming emotions coming out all at once, likely coupled with the artificial chemicals still swirling through her nervous system from the drugs.
Max sniffled and looked up at him with wide, shining blue eyes. It hit him that what he'd said earlier just before they'd climaxed sounded a lot like wedding vows, and he swallowed nervously, hoping that his words hadn't freaked her out.
"Promise?" she asked, her voice hoarse and barely audible as she grasped his wrist and held his hand against her face.
Mike nodded and leaned in to kiss her softly. "Whatever happens, I'm here. I promise."
She let out a relieved sigh and rolled into him, pressing herself into his side as he shifted onto his back and pulled the blankets over them. He knew that intense, cathartic sex wouldn't be an instant fix and they likely had a bit of a bumpy road ahead of them, but he was prepared to buckle in and brave the journey with her.
He reached over and turned off the lamp on his nightstand. Soft light peeked in through the blinds from what was now undeniably the sunrise, and Mike felt the lack of sleep hit him like a freight train. Eyes barely open, he set the alarm clock to go off in two hours, knowing they would both be calling in sick to work.