I open my mouth to tell him yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do, but then overwhelming shame hits me. Here Max is trying to do something nice for me—and let’s face it, he’s doing it for the kids too—and I’m being a bitch about it.

With a sigh, I mutter, “I’m sorry I’m being this way. It’s just . . . hard for me to—”

“Whoever taught you that it’s wrong to accept help, baby?” he murmurs. “Would you not help another person if you had the means to do so? I mean, haven’t you done that in the past?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“You pay it forward, Jules,” he says, and that causes a jolt of awareness to pulse through me. “I was taught to give and help out, not only by my parents but when I’ve had others help me out when I needed it.”

Of course you pay it forward. I know this. It’s a great philosophy in life. But I hate that it makes me feel awful to have Max do this for me, because I never want to be viewed as a charity case.

I feel his hand slide over my shoulder then up my neck, where his fingers curl gently around the other side. He gives me a slight squeeze and says, “I’m not going to lie, Jules. From the start, your plight touched me like it would any human with an ounce of compassion, but what you have to realize is it’s more than that with me. I’ve got a vested interest in making you happy because that makes me happy, so you got to know . . . I do this as much for myself as I do it for you. It makes me feel like your man when I can do things for you, and while I’ve sat back and let you figure things out on your own and stubbornly work your fingers to the bone, we’re at the point in our relationship that I should be able to do nice things for you and not have you freak out.”

“Max—” I say as I turn my head to face him.

“Jules,” he cuts me off softly. “Give this to me, okay?”

God . . . this man.

This utterly beautiful man with a heart made of pure gold and a soul guaranteed to ascend to Heaven the minute his time is up on this earth.

This man who is mine and who cares for me like no man has ever before.

I reach my arm up, wrap it around his wrist and pull his hand away from my neck. I bring it to my mouth, where I turn it and press a kiss to his palm.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Max,” I tell him quietly. “Anything at all.”

And I mean that.

Chapter 19

Max

I walk into the training room and see Hawke on one of the treadmills, running at a breakneck speed. He’s drenched with sweat and his face is beet red as he pounds the rubber belt as it whizzes under his feet. I’m due to train with Vale in about ten minutes, but I always arrive a little early to get in a short, easy run for warm-up.

I hop up on the treadmill next to Hawke and look over at his screen. He’s going into his tenth mile and I blink in surprise. He’s not a long distance runner.

“Dude,” I say as I start my treadmill up, set it to a moderate pace and start a jog. “You’re killing it.”

He responds with nothing but a grunt. I take this to mean he’s too winded to talk so I leave him alone and focus on my own run. Well, not really focusing on the run, but rather enjoying memories of last night with Jules. I ended up taking her to her apartment because she was right . . . I needed a good night’s sleep and her couch would not have given that to me.

But rather than pull right up to the staircase that led almost directly to her apartment door, I pulled into the back of the lot, right under a large streetlamp that was burned out. In the dark, I leaned across the console and I made out with Jules. We went at it for several minutes, necking in a dark car and fogging up the windows.

We didn’t do anything but make out, although I did jack off when I got home, thinking about making out with Jules because she is so fucking fantastic, just memories of kissing her is part of my spank bank.

After fifteen minutes I look at my watch and note that Vale’s late.

She’s never late, and the first thing I do is worry that something may have happened to her father, although if that were the case, surely Hawke would have said something to me the minute I walked in, right?

I turn my treadmill off and as it slows to a walk I turn to Hawke, who has slowed down his pace quite a bit, and ask, “Where’s Vale? We’re supposed to train.”

He’s silent a moment and then his hand reaches out and he stabs the Stop button while he mutters, “She’s gone.”

“Gone?” I ask in confusion. “Gone where?”

“Back to Sydney,” he says, and turns to hop off the treadmill, grabbing a towel he had draped over one of the arm rails and rubbing his face. He doesn’t look at me but starts to head out the door and toward the showers.

I grab my own towel along with my iPhone, which I’d put on the treadmill tray, and scramble after him.

“She went back to Sydney?” I press, hot on his heels. “Sydney, Nova Scotia?”

“Yup,” is all he says, but there’s no mistaking the underlying hint of anger in his voice.

I reach out, grab his arm and turn him toward me. He pulls violently and wrenches away from my grasp but pins his eyes on me and they are blazing with fury.

“What the fuck, dude? Why did she leave?”

Hawke actually gnashes his teeth together and practically spits out, “Because apparently I can’t tell her I love her and so she’s punishing me for that.”

“What?” I ask, completely dumbfounded.

Hawke takes a step toward me and lowers his voice. “She told me she loved me last week. I couldn’t say it back to her. Thus, she decided she can’t be around me anymore and just decided to leave.”

“I can’t believe it,” I mutter, my eyes dropping down in contemplation.

“Well, believe it. She jetted out of here last night.”

“No,” I say as I raise my gaze back to his. “I can believe Vale left. I can’t believe you didn’t say it back to her.”

Hawke actually rears backward, his face awash with stunned surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” I tell him honestly. “I am. Life’s too short to be hung up on past bitterness. Let it go, man, and wise the fuck up.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “I can’t make myself feel something that’s not there.”