Lovers at Heart(41)

Why am I here?

Max turned around and drove by the hotel in the other direction, contemplating getting back on the highway and returning home. She crossed in front of the hotel two more times, until she was sure that the Cheyenne police would spot her and arrest her for stalking. That would be just my luck. She surveyed the parking lot again, and a shiver ran down her back. The hotel was too far off the beaten track; no one could see her there.

Oh no!

Maybe that was Ryan’s plan. Lure her to a remote location and do something horrible to her. He’d said he had something to talk to her about. Maybe that was a ruse. Wait—she’d contacted him. She was being stupid. They were in a public place. She’d be fine. She hoped.

She parked at the far end of the parking lot, giving herself plenty of time on the way in to change her mind and turn back. She held on to the edge of Treat’s T-shirt beneath her sweatshirt. When she reached the entrance, she stopped to try and calm her racing pulse. She paced the sidewalk, then unzipped her sweatshirt so she could see Treat’s shirt beneath. She pulled forward memories of the way he cared for her, the way he nurtured her. That’s what she wanted, to be nurtured, to be healed. She had to go inside and do this—cleanse herself from the memories that stalked her like prey and pulled her back from every forward step she took.

Max took a deep breath and walked through the glass doors. The young dark-haired woman behind the desk smiled.

“Welcome to the Crowne Point Inn!”

Her high-pitched enthusiasm cut right through Max’s anxiety like a knife, causing her to freeze in the middle of the floor of the large, open lobby. Walk. Leave. Do something! Her mind warred with itself, confusing her legs into frozen pillars. Was she insane? This was the worst idea ever.

She finally turned to leave.

“Max?”

Ryan’s voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She clenched her fists against the instant fear that grasped her nerves. I can do this. Max forced herself to turn and tried her best to feign a smile, but with the way her teeth were grinding together, she wasn’t sure she pulled it off.

There he was. Why did his green eyes look friendly? That’s not what he’d looked like at the end, in those weeks she’d spent stifled by his aggression. Now he was smiling like he was glad to see her.

He took a step forward, and again she had no control over her legs as they took a step backward.

“Max?” He wore a dark blue suit with a gold badge over his breast pocket that read ryan cobain, hotel manager, and he was walking—Directly. Toward. Max.

She willed herself to stand tall, and this time, her body obeyed. She looked down at Treat’s shirt, now wishing she had dressed a little nicer. He had the edge on her in his nice suit, on his turf. Wait! What am I thinking? I control this meeting, not him. Pull it together, Max. Pretend he’s a sponsor—no, a salesman. That’s it. He’s a vendor who wants a deal, and I have to be strong. Stand my ground.

Max felt her shoulders draw back and her neck stretch tall. She felt the familiar strength that she’d called upon so often with her career, the strength that began in her gut and traveled into her limbs. She took a step forward, then another, and extended her hand. I can do this.

“Ryan,” she said in a frosty tone.

He took her hand and buried it within both of his.

She steeled herself against the initial jolt of panic, then allowed him to complete his greeting.

“So good to see you, Max. You look gorgeous, of course.”

“Thank you.”

He motioned toward a door beside the front desk. “Shall we go into my office and talk?”

Public. Stay in sight of others. “You know, I’d really like a cup of coffee. Is there a restaurant on site?”

“Sure.”

She walked beside him down a wide hallway, shooting glances at him. He didn’t seem nervous, and he wasn’t acting sketchy. In fact, he seemed like the old Ryan—comfortable, confident. He led her to a small, dimly lit restaurant, where they were seated at a table off to the side.

“I was surprised to hear from you,” Ryan said. He called over the waitress so Max could order a cup of coffee. The waitress brought Ryan a glass of water.

Max watched his mannerisms and found them to be reflective of the boy she’d met when they’d first begun dating. Gone were the jumpy eyes and fast, uncontrolled movements she remembered from their last months together. It was a mask; she was sure of it. A game that he’s just gotten better at.

He said something she didn’t hear. She was too busy remembering how he’d changed over the duration of their relationship. Had she liked him before he’d changed? She thought she had. She remembered fluttering in her stomach when she saw him, and when they’d moved in together, they’d been friends. Yes. She was sure of it. She had liked who he was at that time, before he’d changed.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” she asked.

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again after—”

Max dropped her eyes, then silently scolded herself for doing it. This was her ball game. She called it; she controlled it.

“I surprised myself, quite honestly, but I wanted to…I needed closure.” Max had thought of all sorts of ways to handle Ryan, and in the end, she fell back on her fail-safe: honesty.

“I tried to track you down for weeks, Max. Your parents wouldn’t answer my calls. You, well, you never answered anything—calls, e-mails.”

She wouldn’t apologize for not returning his calls. She wouldn’t apologize for anything.

“I finally found you in Colorado.”

You tracked me down? Every muscle in her legs tensed with fear.

“You worked for that small film company, then a festival company. I’ve written you dozens of letters and e-mails over the years, but never had the courage to send them.”

You stalked me. What if he’d shown up in Allure? What would I have done?

“In the end, I knew it was unfair to reach out to you,” he continued.

Ryan kept eye contact with her, which she found unsettling and reassuring at the same time. People didn’t keep eye contact if they had something to hide. Why wasn’t he acting like he’d done something so wrong to her that it had ruined her ability to have a real relationship? Bastard.

“I would have fled if I’d known you’d found me again,” Max said with her chin held high.

“I don’t blame you,” he said. He dropped his eyes.

There it was. Finally. A little remorse?

“Max, I owe you an explanation and an apology, which I know will never be enough to fix what I did.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Ryan. There is no excuse for what you put me through.” Then what do I want? Tears of anger stung her eyes, and she refused to let them fall. Her voice rose despite her effort to remain calm. “You stole something from me, and I can never get it back. You stole my dignity, and you stole my trust.”

“I know I did, and I’ve regretted it every day of my life.”

Max didn’t hear him. She was too busy formulating her next accusation. “You made me fear relationships and turned me into someone who…” What was she doing? She didn’t come here to tell him what he’d achieved. She’d come here to tell him that she was fine even though he’d tried his best to tear her down.

“Max—”

“No, Ryan. I honestly do not want to hear your excuses. They’re meaningless.”

“Max, I was sick. Okay? It’s not an excuse.”

Max pulled her shoulders back. She was ready for lies. She’d expected them. “Right, Ryan. I was there, remember? You weren’t sick. You just changed. You stopped talking to everyone, stopped talking to me. You’d look at me with this cold stare sometimes, and it was like you had been hiding your meanness, or your hatred for me, for all those months, and then you just released them.”

“Max—”

“I’m not stupid. I took the hint. I just took it one night too late. And I know it had to do with agreeing to move wherever I got a job instead of where you did. I’ve finally figured it all out—”

“Max!” His voice was deep and loud, startling her out of her rant.

“Max, I’m schizophrenic. They missed all the signs over that year or so. We all did. After you left, I fell apart. I spiraled out of control so badly at times that I was afraid to even go home.”

“Schizophrenic?” Max had not seen that coming. She narrowed her eyes, looking for signs of deceit.

“Think about it, Max. My behavior changed. When I look back now, I see it. That night I…hurt you? It wasn’t even you that I was seeing or yelling at. I was sexually abused when I was little, but I’d blocked it out. I was delusional. In my mind, it wasn’t you I was hurting. It was the woman who had molested me.”

“Oh, Ryan.” All the bravado that had built up in her chest came tumbling down. “How did you find out?”

“One night I hurt someone else. Badly. She didn’t call the police or anything, but she could have. In fact,” he said with his eyebrows drawn together, “she probably should have. That’s when I knew something was really wrong. I went home and told my parents that I wasn’t going to leave their house because I was afraid of what I might do to someone else.”