Page 70 of Are You Going to Love Me

“Get out,” Maximus directed in a menacing rumble.

Augustus lazily looked up. “Keep y’all asses right there.”

Maximus, knowing exactly who he used to be and could easily tap into, clasped his hands in front of him. “Get the fuck out.”

The menacing rumble of Maximus’s timbre even shocked Augustus, who finally looked up at his brother. The hate exuding from his soulless eyes spiked Maximus’ anxiety. It was always there; he just never saw it.

As the group of women scurried out of the room, Maximus, in two steps, quickened across the space and yanked Augustus from his seated position. One slam and Maximus sent his head through the wall with an eerie reminder. “You can smoke and shoot up whatever the fuck you want, leave momma out your shit, nigga. This is the last time I’m going to take it easy on you.”

Maximus released him, stepping back and smirking bitterly at Augustus struggling to get his head out of the wall. A small crowd formed, and Maximus left him there in his embarrassment. Drug dealer turned junkie, what a sight.

Easing through the city, Maximus stopped by the twenty-four-hour car wash. In his designer suit, he scrubbed the leather seats and floor until the stench of trauma was out of the vehicle.

Maximus: You up?

Eden: Yeah, you okay?

Maximus: No, can I slide through?

Eden: Yeah, hit E45 on the call box

Back inside his truck without weed or anything else to settle his nerves, Maximus was left alone with his thoughts. Arriving at Eden’s midtown apartment, he followed her directions and landed at her door. A double tap and an exhale swayed his body before she pulled the door open.

Her pressed hair was wrapped and pinned, her face free of make-up, and the dress was long gone, replaced by a nightshirt. Eden studied the dirtied white oxford and pulled him inside.

“What do you need?"

“I don’t - I don't know," he uttered just above a whisper.

She nodded, wrapping her hand in his, leading him down the hallway to her bedroom. Once inside, she removed the jacket, the shirt, and then knelt to remove his shoes. “I had a designer send me the wrong size sweats. There’s a set of clean towels in the bathroom. Do you need anything else? Food, a drink? A call to the weed man?”

His rumble was low. “Nah, just you. I just want to sleep this shit off.”

“Okay,” she spoke softly, roamed to the dresser drawers, and pulled out the sweats. “Here’s everything. I’ll be out here when you're done.”

Maximus moved into the bathroom and mindlessly showered, dried off, and dressed before returning to the bedroom with the sweats hanging off his waist and his chest bare. Eden was in the middle of the bed, her knees to her chest as she swiped through the images from earlier in the day. Spotting his half-dressed body, she locked her phone and waved him over.

Climbing into the bed, he pulled the covers back and crawled into her lap. His head cradled between her pillowy breasts and the flatness of her stomach. He took her leg and put it over him before pulling the covers over them.

“You want to talk about it or not?”

“Ain’t shit to say,” he grumbled, fighting his break.

Eden sank her hands into his damp hair. “You know, if I’m your sanctuary, you can release yourself here. Say or do what you need to.”

“My mother is a fuckin’ crackhead," he grumbled, releasing the hot tears against his will. “I keep wanting her to get off whatever it is. A man, my brother, the bottle, whatever the fuck it is and see me. She don’t and she fuckin’ won’t. I know it, but I keep wanting it.”

“We all want our mothers to love us. Our fathers, too. And I wish I knew what to tell you to find peace, that we probably won’t. I’m sorry, Max.”

“This ain’t on you to apologize for.”

“I know. But someone should apologize to you. So, I’m sorry they don't see in you what I see. What the world is going to see. You’re the one.”

“Don’t feel like it, E. It don’t fuckin’ feel like it.”

“Doesn’t have to. Not at least in here, you don’t. I’ll hold those fears.”

“Why?”

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