Page 19 of Targeted By Love

Only, it was.

But it was for my own good—or so Maynard said, and consequently, I kept telling myself.

Nothing was making sense.

Nothing except for Maynard.

As twisted and messed up as this all was, he made sense. He always had, and I had a feeling he always would. Maynard was the one person I could always be myself around and the one I trusted never to hurt me. Even with all that had happened, that hadn’t changed.

Maynard had his brothers, and as much as I felt safe with him, I didn’t want to be around his siblings until I knew them better.

We left, got into his car, punched the address into the GPS, and he drove me back to my temporary apartment so I could showerand change for brunch. There was so much I wanted to ask him, so much to say, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, silence filled the space between us.

There wasn’t enough time for us to have a real conversation. All of that would need to wait. First we had to get through this brunch. If I skipped it, people would notice I was gone. And something deep inside me told me that would make everything so much worse and not because my mom would call and let me know what a disappointment I’d become. That I could deal with.

Maynard pulled to the curb of the apartment I was staying at and stopped, turning off the ignition but not making a move to remove his seatbelt, even when I did.

“Are you coming in with me?” I asked.

“Yeah, that was the plan.” It wasn’t actually asking permission, but then again, he didn’t need to. He was here not as my date, not in the truest sense. Of course he was going to keep an eye on me the entire time.

“Oh. Okay. Just making sure.” And I was oddly happy about it.

I climbed out and waited for him to walk around the car. My hand itched to grab his, but instead, I shoved it into my pocket and walked up to the door with him behind me.

As we stepped inside the apartment, I kicked off my shoes. “You’re not in a cult, are you?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. At least I was speaking now. That was a step forward, right?

He didn’t say anything at first, the question seeming to have caught him off guard. “No, I assure you, it’s not a cult.”

Which didn’t explain what it was.

“Good.”

His eyes met mine.

“Were you worried about me?”

“Kind of.” As in very much.

A small smile crept across his face. “With all that’s happening, you were worried about me?” Put like that, it sounded ridiculous. He was someone I knew once upon a time, not someone who was currently in my life. What he did or didn’t do and was or was not a part of really had no impact on my life. Not really. Sure, in the immediate situation it did, but that was only temporary.

Probably.

“Whatever.” This wasn’t the time for that conversation. “I need to take a shower.” And get some room to think.

I walked away, through the bedroom and into the bathroom, not upset by what he said as much as perturbed by the realization of what it meant. It was true. Through all of this, I’d been worried about him. And I’d continue to be worried about him until I determined it truly wasn’t a cult. I couldn’t help myself. The brothers thing did make me feel better, but only to an extent. Brothers could be in a cult too.

All those feelings from long ago—they were back. And in some ways, they were even more powerful because of how messy this whole situation was.

And yet, I was glad for it.

I turned on the shower, tossed my clothes into the hamper, and stepped under the hot water. It felt amazing on my skin, butI couldn’t stop myself from wishing it were Maynard’s hands instead. He could wash me from head to toe, and for quality control, kiss all the places he’d cleaned.

I shook that thought away. This was neither the time nor the place to be wishing he was in here all naked and needy, just like me. It was too much, too soon for that, despite what my erection was saying.

Instead, I focused on washing my hair and body, rinsing after each step carefully and meticulously. Using the menial task for something to focus on. I didn’t have a lot of time, so I didn’t dawdle. Not that I would have. Being away from Maynard sucked, despite the circumstances and him being only a room away.

When I came out wearing a towel, I called out to him, letting him know I was getting dressed. If I went into the room he was in, I’d be tempted to drop the terry cloth wrapped around my waist. Neither one of us needed that.