Not Like You

Chapter Fifty-Three

I heard the door open at three in the morning. Max grunted loudly and I heard the thud of his boots getting louder and louder. I rolled out of bed and grabbed a crutch, walking to the door and opening it.

"Max, you're late. I was getting worried-" I gasped as I took him in, "oh Max what happened?" I asked. His lip was bleeding and he had a cut over his eye. He had a bruise on the side of his jaw. He groaned as I led him to the bathroom closest to us and sat him down on the toilet cover.

"Work happened to me. I was assigned a protecting job for a truck full of weapon ammunition," he groaned as I helped him ease the jacket off his arms, "and we got attacked. Apparently, the gang that wants to overthrow our legitimate agency is getting bigger. There were two of us and five of them. None of them were stronger than the two of us, but we were outnumbered," I grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his bruised torso.

"Did you get hurt anywhere else?" I asked. He nodded.

"A cut on the bottom of my thigh. Just above the knee. I can take care of it on my own," I shook my head.

"Nope. Sorry, but you have to take those pants off while I grab you an ice pack. Maybe two," he tried to argue, but I gave him a silencing glare and he started to unzip his pants. I grabbed two ice packs from the kitchen and wrapped them in paper towels as I used to when I bruised my knuckles.

"Here," I handed them to them, barely noticing how exposed he was with just his boxers on. 

Max pressed the ice packs onto his torso and winced, but I saw some of the tension in his shoulders ease as he held onto them.

I went to work on his face and neck, cleaning every scrape I could and applying bandages and cream where I needed to. Max was wringing his hands and I noticed how swollen his knuckles were. We had no more ice packs, so I grabbed ice and placed it in the sink, alternating two towels in and out of his knuckles.

After he was clean and the only problem left was his bruised torso, I took a look at the cut on his leg. It was still bleeding, but it wasn't deep enough for stitches. I repeated the technique I used on his face, but applied more cream and wrapped in gauze, hoping it would hold.

I stood up when I was finished and Max stood up, placing his towel in the sink which was now full of ice water instead of ice.

"Thank you, Rose," he said. He tried to hug me, but I reminded him his chest was injured and he sighed.

"I didn't care, just hug me," he said, pulling me to him. I carefully wrapped my arms around him, afraid I'd hurt him more than he already was.

He walked easier to his room and pulled back the covers. Once he was secure, I turned off the light.

"Rose?" I turned around.

"Stay with me?" I sighed but walked over, my crutch in hand. I crawled into bed and Max scooted over, making room for me. I realized he had a king bed and was glad for space.

"Thank you. For everything," Max said, grabbing my hand in the dark. I squeezed it gently.

"No, Max. Thank you,"

"For what,"

"Everything and more," I could sense his smile and felt his grip on my hand loosen as he fell asleep.

*********************

When I woke up, Max was watching me. I rubbed my eyes and he smiled. The small cut on his lip looked completely healed. The cut above his eye scabbed over, and the bruise on his neck was less prominent.

"Good morning, Miel," Max said, pulling me slightly closer. I smiled at him sleepily and touched his chest softly, feeling for swelling.

"My chest feels a lot better if that's what you're asking," he said, pressing his forehead against mine.