Alyssa ♔
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I sit up in bed, shivering and covered in sweat. Another nightmare, this one so real that it takes me a moment to overcome the hollowing ache in my chest. Eyes closed, I breathe deeply, reminding myself that Max will be fine. I posted his bail, and Hayden had promised to pick him up; this nightmare will soon be over.

That's when I open my eyes. At the end of the bed, a shadow sits still against the silence, nothing else visible except large, broad shoulders, but even in the pitch-black room, I'd recognize him anywhere.

"Max," I breathe.

He barely has time to react to my voice when I throw my arms around him. My cheek finds his chest, pressing against the cool, thin material of his t-shirt. Everything about him feels so warm and familiar that my body turns to jelly in his arms. All night, I'd dreamt he'd suddenly appear, and he has.

It takes a second for his arms to wrap around me, but when they do, I can breathe. "Hey," he says softly. He pulls me closer, practically onto his lap, and cradles me. I'm so happy to see him that even though it sounds pathetic, my eyes pool with tears, soaking into the cotton of his t-shirt.

"Are you okay?" I ask. "I was so worried."

He nods and pushes my hair from my face. "I'm fine."

He doesn't sound fine. I pull back a little to study him properly, but the lack of light in the room makes it difficult. Still, even in the shadows, the downward tilt of his mouth is unmissable, and just like that, I remember everything Marnie had told him. I'm certain he remembers too.

"I'll pay you back for the bail," he says. "As soon as I can."

I frown and run my fingers across the fabric of his t-shirt. He says it all business-like, as if this was some transaction and not because I love him. "You don't need to do that."

"I do," he says, but his voice comes out harder than intended. He waits a beat, letting his voice soften until it's almost inaudible. "I do."

Uneasiness works through me as I glance at his hand. His knuckles are red, the middle one split from where he caught Justin's tooth, and I reach over to hold it, but he gently pulls away. His rejection makes me shiver. I wrap my arms around myself, wishing he would look at me, but he won't.

He hates me.

"I get it." I try to keep my voice light and steady, but it shakes. "I should have been honest with you about who I was. I did some terrible things, so I don't blame you for–"

"I love you," he says, looking over. "Nothing you did or do will change that."

I should feel relieved, but the way he's acting makes me uneasy. I grab his arm, forcing him to look at me. What I want to ask is, What's wrong? Why are you shutting me out? But I'm too scared of his answer, so I don't. Instead, I lean closer and gently kiss his cheek, praying it will make us feel like us again.

He doesn't kiss me back. His body is still, every muscle taut and contracted as though I'm a stranger beside him. I start to pull back, stomach knotted with rejection, but something inside of him snaps. He grabs my face, eyes laced with a tenderness that cuts through my heart, and kisses me.

I kiss him harder, desperate to taste him after two days apart. I'd been terrified the truth about me would scare him away, but I should never have doubted him; Max and I are in this together.

Our kisses somehow last forever and no time at all. Max lets out a rough, heavy breath, running his hands through my hair. His kisses feel tender, laced with an urgency that makes me pull back.

This tastes like goodbye.

Neither of us speaks for a long time. His jaw is pressed into a hard, narrow line, and there are deep creases etched into his forehead. He gets to his feet, deliberately putting some space between us, which makes me feel cold.

"Max?" My heart has never pounded so fast. He doesn't look at me, won't look at me, which tells me everything I need to know. My heart breaks, crumbling into pieces on the floor, and this time, there's no fixing them.

His voice comes hard and heavy in the silence. "You need to go home, Alyssa."

A roll of nausea takes over. I get to my feet, panic taking over as reality sets in, a reality I never prepared for. "I know why you're doing this," I say, because I'm used to talking my way out of things, and part of me hopes that it will work now. "I don't care about my jewelry, Max. I don't care that we're staying at the gym. None of that matters to me."

"It should." He runs a hand down his jaw in agitation and looks around the room. "You deserve better than this, Alyssa."

It takes a few moments before I can speak, but when I do, my voice is small and unlike my own. "I decide what I deserve, Max. Me. You think you're helping me? All you're doing right now is hurting me."

His eyes darken, taken over by that same protectiveness I've come to love, but it only lasts a second. "Hurting you is the last thing I want, believe me, but I've made up my mind."

I close the remaining distance between us, but we still feel miles apart. "So, what?" I say, my voice breaking. "My opinion doesn't matter?"

"Of course it matters." He looks down at me, green eyes hollow and lacking vitality. "But it won't change anything."

Tears press my eyes as I try to pull him closer, but his body has turned stone. "Please, Max."

His expression closes down as he takes a step back. "I should go," he says and starts to turn, but I pull him back.

"Max, please." My voice cracks in half as he tries to shift away. I say it again, over and over, as if the next time, the words will break through. I've never had to beg for anything in my life, but I guess there's a first for everything.

His eyes search mine, distant and heavy. If I were to go by his stoic expression, I'd think he doesn't care, but the crack in his voice when he whispers my name betrays him. He cares; I know he does, so why is he doing this?

"Alyssa, stop," he says and unwinds my arms from his waist.

My bottom lip trembles. If I had any sense, I'd scoop up what's left of my dignity and let him walk out, but how can I? At this point, he's all I have left. "You stop," I say, but the words come out muffled and defeated in the dark, stained by tears and despair. "You said you loved me."

A flash of hurt breaks through his mask of indifference. "I do."

I close my eyes. He says it so sincerely that I want to believe him, but I can't. If he loved me, he wouldn't be doing this. "If you walk out that door, I will never forgive you." The words explode out of me, sadness replaced with fury. This doesn't feel real; it can't be happening because Max was the one person I could count on. He wouldn't just leave me.

He looks at me for what feels like forever. Staring at him, I'd think he was my Max: same dark eyes and high, angelic cheekbones. But somewhere in the space of ten minutes, he's become this stranger I can no longer touch.

He walks to the door without looking at me. Opens it. Light from the gym peeks into the room and illuminates a fraction of his face. I close my eyes, waiting for the click of the door. When I open them, he's gone.

I sink onto the bed, staring at the empty space beside me. The shock of this evening has yet to wear off, so for a moment, all I can do is breathe. But the longer I sit here, staring at his pillow, the harder it gets. My chest turns hollow, filling with a pressure that rises up my throat and erupts in a loud, desperate sob. I grab his pillow, burying my face in the crisp, white satin, and muffle the sobs that follow.

A/N

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