Page 65 of Out Of Time

“Max Miller,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Youare in love with me.”

They both burst out laughing. The kind of laugh that starts in your stomach and rolls its way up to your throat in a punishing burst of joy.

He brought his finger up to her nose. “Ding-ding-ding,” he said with each pressing boop.

“And?” she asked.

“Well, I think you might love me too?” he asked.

“You think?” she said sitting up to straddle him, pushing his massive arms above his head. “Youthink?”

Max loved her power, her confidence, and her ability to lay him out below her and have her way.

“Ok, I don’tthink.” He paused, before taking a deep breath and announcing with certainty, “Remi Davis,youare in love with me.”

“You’re damn right I am,” she said, leaning in to kiss him the way two people kissed when they had just admitted their love for one another. The kind of kiss that left lips swollen, necks covered in purple marks of passion, and fingerprints on wrists, hips, and thighs in the act of being too rough, too excited, leaving no room for second guesses.

It was Remi lowering herself onto him.

It was Max letting her be in control.

It was Remi rolling her hips against his body as she held his arms in place.

It was Max submitting to the woman he loved, to show her that he would, while also needing her to know that he could be in charge too.

He flipped her over in one swift movement, using the weight of his body to thrust deep inside of her. Pulling her legs up with a punishing grip on her ankles, he spread her wide open as he pumped into her with no refrain. Remi braced her hands on the headboard as he fucked her good and hard.

The sounds in the room were raw. Skin slapping against skin. Uncontrolled breathing. Heavy moans. Mumbled words:right there, oh fuck, Max, Max, Max.

With one final push, Remi called out his name, her body trembling around him, her fists clenched tight as he came deep inside her.

Max awoke to the distant sound of the ocean outside Remi’s window and her voice carrying from another room. He found his sweat suit from yesterday cleaned and neatly folded at the end of the bed. Making his way to her kitchen, he caught the tail end of her phone conversation.

“Ok, thanks for keeping me up to date. I hope you find the right care for her. Okay, thanks, you too… Bye.”

Remi was sitting at her small dining room table wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt with a skull on the front; maybe a band logo of sorts, Max couldn't be sure. Her smile perked up at the sight of him, his bare chest, his joggers hugging his thighs, and his feet cold on the old beach house’s wooden floors.

He leaned down to kiss the top of her head and her arms effortlessly wrapped around his waist. “Good morning,” he said to the woman he loved.

She looked up at him, her arms still wrapped around his lower half. “Good morning. Do you want coffee? It’s the worst coffee on the planet, but it’s what I grew up drinking, and old habits die hard, ya know?”

She went to stand to get his coffee, but Max pressed her back down to her seat. “I can get it,” he said, making himself at home and feeling proud of how naturally he took up space in someone else's kitchen. There had been billet homes he lived in for months and months where he never once felt safe enough, or welcomed enough, to serve himself there.

He took the seat across from her at the tiny two-person table that was pressed up against the open window, the chill of November adding an element of laziness to the day. “How’s Mrs. Keller doing?” he asked, assuming the bit of the phone call he heard was about her.

“She has dementia. I don’t know how I didn't see the signs before, but now that her son confirmed it, it all makes sense. I guess last night was a really bad episode. He feels like it's time to move her into a facility that can take care of her.”

“How does that make you feel?” Max asked, sipping the bitter coffee.

“Sad. I just want to save them all, you know? All the lost souls, the people like me and my mom who society gave up on. I want to rescue them from their personal hell, their mental illness, their loneliness. I want to save them so badly, and I know I can't.”

“Hey, you do save them—one house cleaning at a time. That might be the only safe place they have in their lifetime. That moment you give them, even if they’re just going to mess it up again, and again, and again… you give them that peace. Even if it's short-lived.”

She reached across the table and ran her fingers over his knuckles, a few of which were busted. “Thanks again, for helping me last night,” she said softly.

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