Flawed Heart: House Of Obsidian - Bella Jewel Page 0,52
ignores me. He just turns and walks up the stairs and I hear the door slam.
A tear trickles down my cheek.
~*~*~*~
MAX
There’s nothing left.
I feel nothing.
I want to die.
~*~*~*~
THEN – ANA – TWO WEEKS LATER
He hasn’t come home for three days. Three days. He’s been at the club, and no matter how many times I call, he doesn’t answer. He sent a vague text assuring me he’s fine and that he’s just working, but it’s not like him to behave like this. I’m frantic with worry, and I’ve asked him so many times what’s going on, but he just keeps brushing me off. Eventually he stopped answering and just glared at me, as if my questions were stupid.
I’m pacing my living room, contemplating going down to the club and demanding that he come home. I don’t like going down there, and I don’t like pushing him when he doesn’t want to be pushed, but something has got to give. He’s clearly struggling with something. I just don’t know what it is. Every time I ask, he just shrugs it off. He doesn’t want me to know. He’s pushing me away.
The door swings open, stopping me in my tracks. I turn and see Max stumble through. He’s wearing a pair of faded denim jeans and a black shirt, with a leather jacket thrown on. He looks a mess, and his hair is scruffy and overgrown. His face needs a good shave. I watch in horror as he fumbles with the lock, and I realize that he’s drunk.
Max hates drinking. He never does it, and if he does it’s so light you wouldn’t even know he’d been doing it.
I’ve never seen him drunk. Never.
“Are you drunk?” I whisper, pain shooting through my heart.
He spins around, as if just noticing me, and then laughs loudly. “Had a few.”
Ice runs up my spine and I storm forward, slamming the door closed and locking it. “You never drink. What the hell is going on, Max?”
“Get off my back,” he mutters, taking a shaky step forward. “I’m allowed to have fun.”
“Yeah, you are, but this isn’t just fun. You’re suffering. Something is wrong, but you won’t tell me what it is. Is it the club? Is there a problem?”
He glares at me. “Maybe the fucking problem is you. Stop nagging.”
It feels as if someone’s slapped me. “Nagging?” I whisper. “You think I’m nagging? I’m trying to help you, Max.”
“Don’t want your fuckin’ help, ’cause nothin’ is wrong.”
“Then why are you drinking?”
“Because I’m having fun!” he roars. “Maybe you should try it once in a fucking while.”
Tears burn under my eyelids. “Is that the problem? You don’t think I’m fun enough because I don’t come down to the club? I thought that didn’t matter. I thought . . . I thought it’s how you wanted it to be.”
“Nothing is how I fuckin’ wanted it to be, Anabelle. Fuckin’ nothing.”
With that he stumbles up the stairs.
I stand in stunned shock.
He’s never spoken to me like that before, and it hurts like hell.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
NOW – ANABELLE
I wake on the couch in the middle of the night, alone but tucked in with a blanket. I sit up and rub my eyes, staring around the room. My heart aches as I realize where I am. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this house. God, I loved it so much. I push to my feet and the floorboards squeak as I walk into the kitchen. I get a glass of water and then tiptoe towards the stairs. I need to know Immy is okay.
I go up slowly, and when I reach the room that used to be the spare room, I push the door open. Immy is tucked in the big double bed, surrounded by teddy bears. My heart aches, because Max must have gone and got those for her. She looks happy, comfortable and cared for. That makes tears spring to my already burning eyes. He took care of her. I knew he would, but seeing it makes warmth smother some of the pain.
I step out and gently close the door. I’m about to head back down the stairs but I hesitate when I glance at the old main bedroom door. I find myself turning without being prompted and I walk over, taking the door handle with trembling fingers. I push it open lightly and peer in. The bed is exactly where it used to be, and right in the middle of that bed is Max, sleeping, hands tucked