Like the Red Sky at Morning

By Brielle Skye

The story of Maxie and Isaac continues in the sequel to SOLITUDE OF A BIRDCAGE as the two lovers learn that some memories can't be erased, and the past is never far behind.

She had a choice, and she chose him, only to be left guilt-ridden and heartbroken. Now Maxie Shannen is determined to move on from the past she shared with Isaac Cole—especially since he still doesn't remember it.

Seeking comfort in a new job, dreams of becoming a chef, and a scheme that may be the very escape she needs, Maxie counts down the days until she's out of the apartment she shares with Van and Isaac for good. But as she draws closer to her goals, she finds herself facing a new temptation as intoxicating—and as forbidden—as the last.

Torn between the past and the future, truth and pretense, a new love and the old, Maxie will once again be forced to make a decision that will leave her with everything she's ever wanted, or nothing at all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brielle Skye
• Release date: Oct 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9780991650613

Brielle Skye

Brielle Skye is from New York where writing, reading, crocheting, and traveling keep her busy. She is the founder of the New York City Writers Network, an organization dedicated to uniting the very people who share her passion for words.

Book preview

LIKE THE RED SKY AT MORNING

a novel

Brielle Skye

Gypsy Pen

Publishing

Copyright © 2015 by Brielle Skye

Gypsy Pen Publishing

For questions, address:

P.O. Box 1010

New York, NY 10156

Distributed by Smashwords

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Cover layout and design by Ellie Bockert Augsburger of CreativeDigitalStudios.com

Author photo by George Urbina of Lebeauphotos.tumblr.com

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

FIRST EDITION

ISBN 978-0-99-16506-2-0

For my sister, Paris, who made it possible for me to

travel all the way to Australia and finish this book.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

1

NOW

Maxie Shannen moved slowly as she untangled herself from the knot of sheets that ensnared her, careful not to disturb the motionless figure snoring lightly at her side. It should have been easy enough. Vince slept on the other side of the large bed, his back to her, his arms tucked under himself. He never rolled over to reach for her in the middle of the night, his hands never found her through the haze of slumber. Yet, when she lowered her feet to the floor, he stirred.

With a groan, he turned over. You’re leaving?

Yes, she said, pulling her dress on over her head and frowning at all the tiny wrinkles in the soft fabric.

You don’t have to, he said. I mean, you can crash here if you want.

Thanks, she said, though she continued preparing for her departure. He sighed at her reflection; her hair—which had lain in neat, silky strands when she’d arrived at Vince’s apartment just an hour prior—now stuck up defiantly, reaching out in every direction.

I’ll take that as a no, he said with a chuckle.

It’s my best friend’s birthday, she explained, not bothering to mention that she would have been leaving even if it weren’t Van’s birthday. She’s throwing a surprise party.

He cocked an eyebrow. For herself?

That’s Van for you, Maxie replied with a shrug. Have you seen my panties?

He didn’t reply. His eyes were on the bare skin of her chest, where the neckline of her dress plummeted nearly to her belly button. Funny, he said. "Seeing you only half-naked does just as much for me as seeing you buck. Maybe even more."

What does helping me find my panties do for you? she asked, shaking out the sheet she’d previously discarded.

Pretending to contemplate for a moment, he replied, Nothing, actually.

I can’t go to the party without my panties, she said. Get up, see if they’re under you.

Didn’t you take them off in the living room?

Ah! she recalled, snapping her fingers. That’s right. In the living room, her panties sat on the arm of the couch, her bra on the floor just below it. Grabbing them both, she went back into the room to apply her makeup. In a room full of Van’s friends, makeup was the least she could do for herself.

Vince remained in bed, watching her intently as she colored her full lips a rich, dark red and edged her eyes with sharp, black lines. I’ve never seen you in makeup, he said, admiring her.

Why would you have?

He shrugged. You really clean up well, huh? She didn’t reply as she attempted to tame her unruly mane. The roots were starting to frizz, the ends beginning to curl. Suddenly he was behind her. His hands trailed up her thighs, bringing her dress up with them. He pushed her hair forward and dropped a moist kiss on her neck. One more time? he purred against her ear.

I’d love to, she said, and she even halfway meant it. But I really need to go.

She slipped out from under his touch and bent to strap on her shoes.

"Maybe I should take you on a real date sometime," he suggested.

Finally looking at him, she smiled politely. Isn’t this fun? The way it is, I mean.

The most fun I’ve had in a while, he admitted.

She nodded and scooped up her purse as she headed for the door. Great. Me, too. Keep your phone on in case I want to come back later.

No kiss goodbye? he called after her, but she shut the front door behind her without a reply.

It was nearly nine o’clock when Maxie stepped into the apartment that she shared with Van. The living room and kitchen were both filled with people, a majority of whom Maxie had only spoken to for the first time when she reached out to them to invite them to the party. There was no mistaking the lot of them for Van’s friends, though; tall, fashionable, and a shade or two more attractive than the general population. None more attractive than Van herself, though. Van didn’t keep friends more attractive than herself.

Max! You’re here! Bea, Maxie’s closest friend next to Van, came weaving through the small crowd. Her long, fire-red locks were wrapped up in a beehive-like bun on the crown of her head, and she’d replaced her usual frayed jeans with a knee length skirt, though her old, tattered sneakers were still in place. Where were you? I thought you would miss the surprise.

Van would kill me if I missed her surprise. Or maybe she wouldn’t even notice, she amended, scanning the room. Look at all of these people. She’ll be so happy.

"I was surprised by the turnout, too. I was positive you were the only one who liked her that much."

Not the only one, Maxie thought, catching Isaac’s eye from across the room. He looked even more handsome than usual, clean cut and clean-shaven especially for his girlfriend’s birthday.

And he was staring back at Maxie.

She could remember having lived for those very moments. Those short seconds when he’d look at her and everything she felt on the inside was there on his face. She’d wait for his subtle glances, passing grazes, late night visits to steal a few moments alone.

Only when Van was asleep.

The thought made her shudder with shame. Now she barely found reason to meet his eyes. Everything she’d ever looked for in them was gone. Anything that remained she didn’t want to see. Anyway, she said, shifting her attention back to Bea. You look nice.

With a grin, Bea replied, I figured I might bag myself a male model tonight.

Frowning, Maxie gave the room another once-over. "I think all of these male models are gay."

I’ve done worse, Bea said with a shrug.

Maxie laughed, but just as quickly lost her mirth as Isaac approached. Where have you been? he asked. I expected you hours ago.

Work, she lied, averting her eyes so as not to meet Bea’s.

He studied her briefly, maybe looking for the truth on her face. Thanks to him, she was better than ever at keeping the truth from there. Alright, he said, after a moment. Well, Van just called me. She’s outside so she’ll be up any minute. Maybe we should light the candles?

I guess it’s showtime, Maxie agreed, clapping her hands together. Let’s get this over with. Bea followed her to the kitchen where they pulled the sheet cake from its large box. Bea nudged her. Work, huh?

Maxie bit down on her bottom lip. She could lie, insist that—this time—she actually was at work. But Bea was the one person, the lone soul, who Maxie had never lied to, who she had never had to lie to. I was with Vince, she admitted at last.

"Vince? What about Damien?"

With the wave of a hand, Maxie said, Damien always wanted to hold hands.

Oh! said Bea with false bewilderment. "You mean after sex? How dare he."

Rolling her eyes, Maxie said, That isn’t what I want. I want easy and detached. No kissing, no cuddling. No sleepovers and breakfast in bed—

I still cannot believe you stopped seeing Mark because he brought you breakfast in bed. I mean, seriously, Max. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You used to live for that romantic shit.

Maxie tried not to look at Isaac. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from reminding Bea of where her vulnerable heart had gotten her. Tricked. Played. Used. It had turned her against her best friend. Turned her into a girl she didn’t recognize, was ashamed of.

You know, Bea went on, "I wish I had a man who wanted to cuddle until we fell asleep and then bring me breakfast in bed."

Glancing across the room at Bea’s date—ten years her senior though his smooth face gave him the appearance of a man much younger—Maxie said, What? Is he married?

Divorced. With two kids that he keeps telling me are his niece and nephew. She rolled her eyes. "That’s what I get stuck with. I’ll trade the divorcee with secret children for breakfast in bed any day."

Lifting the cake, Maxie shrugged. Well, Mark is available. Go for it.

She didn’t wait for Bea to reply before she made her way to the center of the room in anticipation of Van’s arrival. Everyone quieted as the clicking of keys in the lock sounded. When Van pushed the door open, the room erupted. "Surprise!"

Shock seized Van’s features and she slapped her hand to her chest. When everyone began to sing Happy Birthday, she pressed her lips together in a modest smile. It was all Maxie could do not to laugh out loud.

Just the evening before, Van had spent hours picking out the perfect outfit, one that looked unplanned yet superior, as she’d practiced her shocked face in the mirror; it had to seem natural, while still camera-friendly. Of course, her performance was flawless. Maxie considered recommending her roommate take up acting instead of modeling.

Van made her way across the room, pausing often to hug and kiss, greet and thank her guests for coming. I had no idea, she said. "Seriously, I had no idea!"

Finally, she made it to the cake. She’d chosen it herself and insisted it say, Happy Birthday, Savannah. No one but her mother ever called her Savannah, but she thought for the occasion, using her full name was appropriate. Meeting Maxie’s eyes over the dancing flames of the candles, she smiled widely. We did it, she was saying.

Make a wish, said Maxie.

Well, I already have everything I could possibly ask for, Van replied, "but I have had my eyes on a pair of shoes lately, so…" Everyone laughed as she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out all of the candles.

There were only ten. After all, the candles were just for aesthetics, they didn’t actually need to remind people that she was getting older, she’d said. Don’t you think the birthday party itself will remind people? Maxie had asked, but Van only waved her off. Ten candles it was.

Once they were all blown out, Maxie retreated to the kitchen to cut the cake while Van continued to socialize with her guests. She found Isaac and clung to him, her arm laced through his. They both wore blue—another one of Van’s insistences—and Maxie had to admit that she’d been right when she’d said it would make them look more connected, like a unit. They certainly did look like a unit.

Maxie looked away.

With her new view of the couple—an outsider looking in now, rather than a clandestine, devious insider—she could see that they fit together far better than she and Isaac ever had. Both tall and graceful with perfect faces and perfect bodies. Eventually, they would undoubtedly produce angelic-looking children.

Well, I’m not sure what I want to taste first, came a voice from behind her. She blinked, snapping out of her bitterness-induced daze, and turned to find a grinning Daniel Gnar before her. The cake, or you.

He looked the same as he had the last time she saw him, six months prior, though maybe even more handsome now than before, with the shadow of a beard canvasing his square jaw.

He was still so tall, so broad, so solid, so plainly comfortable in his own skin. He carried himself with more ease then men half his size, though most men were only half as good looking, half as charming, half as absolutely certain of themselves. Taking his bottom lip in between his teeth, he stared down at her, his eyes dancing over her hair, her face, her bare shoulders and chest. Look at you, he said at last.

She could smell his cologne; the same one he’d always worn. It wrapped itself around her like a seductive embrace, and she lowered her face so he wouldn’t see her grin. "Look at you," she replied.

Are you the one to thank for this? he asked, motioning toward the party.

Some of it, she said. The food, mostly. Van pretty much did the rest.

Van planned her own surprise party. He chuckled at that, and the sound struck Maxie right in the chest. She inhaled deeply to steady herself but his scent was only more dizzying. She wanted to reach up and touch his face; the curve of his cheek, the fullness of his bottom lip. She remembered—quite distinctly, in fact— how his lips had felt on hers, and the memory made her temperature rise a degree.

How have you been, anyway? It’s been a while, he said. His eyebrows went up at that and Maxie’s face reddened.

Yeah, she said, sorry about that. I’ve just been working a lot. Avoiding you. You wouldn’t believe how insanely busy these last few months have kept me. Not busy enough to stop thinking about you. I meant to call… I erased your number. It was the only way I could stop myself from using it.

He nodded. Sure, I get it. I mean, fitting a phone call into such a small period of time—

I’m sorry, she repeated. Really.

Again, he nodded. It’s fine, Max. I guess I can't say that I'm surprised. I just thought… His voice trailed off. Then, with a shrug, he said, Anyway. How's work? Still looking after Charlie?

No, actually. I'm working at a restaurant now. I'm a waitress. Far cry from the New York School of Performing Arts, I know, but I like it. And one day, when I open my own restaurant, this experience will be completely relevant—

Whoa, he said, raising his palms to her. Defense mode is still your default setting, I see. Look, I'm not Kathy, alright? I think it's great that you're working in the restaurant industry. If you're happy. Are you happy?

She nodded and smiled. I am. The answer felt like a revelation, even to herself. She was happy. She spent most of her days learning more about the very business she hoped to contribute her own significant piece to one day. She spent her evenings in the arms of men she was in no danger of falling in love with, or being hurt by. Conflict of interest was no longer an issue in her romantic affairs.

Somehow, she learned to tolerate life in the same apartment as Van and Isaac. Accept it. Averted gazes and avoided encounters contributed mostly to her success in distancing herself from the pair. She only cooked dinner a few nights during the week when Isaac was off tending to the gym he owned in Brooklyn, and breakfast on weekends when Van slept into the late morning after long nights at her bar job. In Maxie’s spare time, she escaped to Charlie’s, to Bea's, to Vince's or Mark's or whoever it was at the moment. All of her efforts culminated into just a few short chance encounters with Van and Isaac together a week.

Well, that's great then—

Excuse me, Maxie? Are you Maxie?

Both Maxie and Gnar turned to see one of Van's friends standing there. Van told me to find you for cake.

Oh, of course, Maxie said, turning back toward the cake. Gnar waited as she sliced the guy a piece of cake, but only after making sure the serving size was to his liking. When the guy walked away with his cake, Gnar said, Still the dutiful hostess.

Maxie only rolled her eyes in reply. Anyway—

Hey, are you the one serving cake? Another guy was standing there, this one with a friend. We’ll take two pieces.

Before Maxie could turn away, Gnar took the knife from her hands and placed it on the table. Gently taking her by the arm, he turned to the guy. Get your own fucking cake, he snapped.

I would have just cut it, Maxie said as the guy, affronted, took the knife and proceeded to do just as Gnar had said.

Looking down at her, Gnar’s eyes softened. I know you would have, he said. Hey, do you want to go somewhere?

She laughed at the question, though from his expression, she knew he was completely serious. Leave Van’s party? Daniel…

That’s nice, he said.

What is?

You, saying my name. It’s been a while. His eyes dimmed slightly and wistfulness shadowed his features. Then he reached out and took her hand. His was big and warm and his eyes lingered on their entwined fingers.

Don’t, Gnar, she choked out.

Don’t what? he asked.

Suddenly the room grew quiet. For a moment, she thought it was because of her, as if everyone wanted to know the answer to his question. Don’t what?

Don’t get too close.

Don’t kiss me.

Don’t love me.

Don’t leave.

But Maxie said none of those things. Instead, she slipped her hand out of his and turned to Van, who was addressing the room. Her friend was smiling, holding tightly to Isaac’s arm. Thank you all for coming, she said. I can’t even begin to tell you how glad I am to have been able to share my birthday with you. It’s truly been a special evening, which is why Isaac and I can’t think of a better time than now to share our wonderful news.

From across the room, Bea caught Maxie’s eye and raised an inquiring brow. Maxie shrugged. What news? Gnar whispered.

Maxie shrugged again, stepping forward to listen more closely.

Gazing at Isaac, Van said, "We’re getting married!"

The room erupted. Big eyes and wide smiles seized every face, congratulations rang out from every corner. It seemed as if everyone in the room rushed to the center and engulfed Van and Isaac. Swallowed them whole.

Everyone but Maxie.

She swayed slightly, stumbled back into Gnar. His hands went to her arms and he steadied her. If he let her go, she knew, she would collapse. Maybe he knew as well, because he didn’t let her go. In fact, his grip tightened until pain fanned out across her skin from beneath his fingertips. She inhaled sharply, suddenly aware that she had been holding her breath.

She needed to sit. No, walk. No, lie down. No, she needed to hit something, break something. Except everything inside of her was breaking instead. She could barely make out the sound of well wishes over the deafening roar of her emotions colliding under her skin, crashing into one another, ricocheting off the walls of her heart; angry shards ripping holes into her soul. She was bleeding, internally, and no one knew.

No. Gnar knew. Bea, who was all the way across the room but staring Maxie right in the face, knew. She was slowly shaking her head. Don’t fall apart, she was saying. Not here. Not with everyone watching.

Then Maxie was saying it herself, repeating the words in her mind until they blended together into one. Don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry.

And then Van was in front of her, beaming, arms outstretched. Max, can you believe it? she gushed. We’re getting married!

The violent blow of reality hit her with devastating force.

Van and Isaac. Getting married.

It was no longer just an idea, no longer just a possibility. It was no longer something that had almost happened, but something that was happening.

Maxie blinked. Her mouth twitched against the agony of her forced smile. "Wow, this is…this is…wow," she stammered, unable to utter a single lie as she hugged her friend. The smell of Van’s shampoo was almost nauseating. It was the same smell Isaac had brought with him to Maxie’s room on so many nights.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, said Van. We wanted it to be a surprise. It was a surprise alright. Like being woken up by the shattering explosion of a gunshot. Van pulled back. "You know you’re going to be my maid of honor, right? I mean, obviously."

Obviously, Maxie agreed. Her face was beginning to hurt. The threat of tears burned her eyes. Don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry.

Hey, come here, Gnar cut in, reaching for Van. I need a hug from the bride-to-be! He pulled Van against his chest and raised his eyes to Maxie over her shoulder. She lowered hers, afraid he would be able to see straight through them, straight into the core of her mangled soul.

Aren’t you going to congratulate me, Maximilienne? Isaac asked, stopping before her.

Of course, she said, swallowing the knot of anguish that lodged itself in her throat. Congratulations.

She held her breath as he embraced her, kept her eyes squeezed shut, tried to ignore the pulsating warmth that surged through her beneath the sensation of his touch. When he finally pulled away, she thought she would collapse into herself.

The urge to weep grew more painfully overwhelming with each passing second. Any moment she would break. She would crumble.

As soon as Isaac turned his back, Maxie pivoted, slipping swiftly through the tangle of people and out the front door. She wondered only briefly if anyone had seen her, and what they would think if they had. Of course, her bursting into tears in the middle of her best friend’s seemingly good news would probably raise a few more eyebrows than a discreet departure.

She jabbed at the elevator button until the doors slid open. In the confines of the tiny space, she could feel her heart begin to slow. When the doors shut again, when she was completely alone, she fell to her knees.

The night seemed far too beautiful for such unhappiness to be possible. The stars seemed brighter than usual, more vast. The cool breeze was like a comforting caress against the still heat. But Maxie felt cold.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she’d retreated to the roof; the minutes seemed to have melted into one another. She felt as if she’d been alone for hours before the door open and someone stepped through. Max? a familiar voice called.

She inhaled sharply. Was she mistaken? She must have been. Her grief-induced headache was simply taking advantage of her. But then he said her name again, and a moment later he was standing over her.

Alex? She got to her feet, dusting off the back of her dress as she did so.

Her ex—… Ex what? Boyfriend? Not technically. Ex-distraction, maybe. That’s all Alex had ever been. A distraction from Van, and then from Isaac and her own relentless love. A distraction from the throb of her overflowing heart, and then the ache of it breaking.

I thought I would find you up here, he said.

What are you doing here? she asked. He looked different since they’d broken up over a year ago. His hair was shorter, his beard had grown out. Even his eyes seemed older, the corners decorated with a few more lines of wisdom that hadn’t been there before. Maxie only wondered if his personality had matured as much as his appearance.

Van invited me, he said, and then laughed. "Van invited me to her own surprise party."

Van did, she said, perplexed.

He raised an eyebrow. What are the chances, huh? I guess she doesn’t hate me anymore.

No, Maxie said, I’m pretty sure she still hates you.

Speaking of Van. Big news, huh?

Yeah. Huge.

"She must be ecstatic. She finally tricked him into committing to her."

Rolling her eyes, Maxie crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you doing here? she asked again, then added, As in, what do you want?"

Same thing as always, Max. Just to see you. He shook his head. "You don’t have to be nice to me. I know I don’t deserve it. But I do miss you."

Thanks, she said, lowering her gaze. Silence fell between them then. Maybe he was waiting for her to say she missed him, too. But she wasn’t going to say that. She couldn’t.

I saw you in there, you know, he said at last. I saw your face. I’m sorry.

She straightened her spine, jutted out her chin. For what?

C’mon, Max. You don’t have to pretend with me.

She pressed her lips together a moment, took a deep breath. She didn’t have to pretend with Alex. She didn’t have to, but she would. She would pretend with everyone, and eventually, she would start pretending to herself again, too. We should probably go back. How long have I been gone?

He frowned. Do you want to talk about it?

"Talk about what?"

He chuckled quietly. "Fine. We don’t have to talk about it. How are you? How’s work? I hear you’re waitressing or something now. What’s the deal with that? A degree from New York School of Performing Arts couldn’t land you anything better than a waitressing job?"

"I like my job," she said through clenched teeth.

He nodded, his mouth forming a silent O. Great, then. And your love life? How’s that?

Alex—

We’re friends, right? Friends talk about these things.

Slowly shaking her head, she quietly said, We’re not friends.

Alex took a step back, nodding. Oh.

Let’s go back, she suggested. She started past him but he didn’t move.

I saw you down there. I saw your face, I was watching the whole time. Shaking his head, he said, You never could hide how you really feel. I don’t know how Van hasn’t figured it out already.

Maxie didn’t reply. She didn’t even turn back around.

The room had cleared significantly when Maxie returned to the party. Only a few people still remained, and they all stood around the kitchen, listening to Van as she spoke from her seat at the table. We were thinking June, she said. Mid-June, when the weather's perfect. Really small, just friends and family. There will only be two bridesmaids and two groomsman, including the maid of honor and best man.

Who’s your best man going to be, Isaac? someone asked.

He looked at Gnar and shrugged. Daniel, I guess. Who else could it be?

Maxie is my maid-of-honor, said Van. Funny, huh? To think our best friends will be walking down the aisle together the same day as us!

Maxie felt another urge to cry tug at her throat, but she swallowed it and went into the kitchen where all eyes fell on her. Speak of the devil! Van cried. Where have you been? You missed the rest of the party!

Yeah, I see. Sorry about that, I hadn't realized I'd been gone that long. I was…umm…I ran to the store. Long lines.

She glanced at the faces surrounding her. No one seemed moved by her lie. No one but Bea, whose brows were drawn together and lips pressed shut with pity.

Gnar watched her intently, his eyes darting back and forth across her features as if searching for the truth there.

We were just talking about you and Gnar walking down the aisle together. How fun will that be?

Yeah, Max, he said. And maybe we can consummate something that night, as well.

Everyone laughed. Isaac glared at him. Don't be an asshole, he snapped.

"Anyway, Van went on, there's so much to plan, I don't even know where to start. Max, I was thinking we can go interview wedding planners next week. You'll come with, right?"

Another tug, this one demanding to be obliged. Clearing her throat, she said, Yeah, of course. In the meantime, I'm going to turn in for the night.

So early? Van whined.

Dropping a kiss on the crown of Van's head, she said, Happy birthday. And congratulations again.

When she turned to leave, Isaac caught her by the hand. What about me? he asked. Don't I get one last congratulations?

He didn't bow his head like Van had, for Maxie to kiss the top. He turned his face up to her, stared right into her eyes, as if he, too, expected to be kissed. Of course, that couldn’t be what he expected. For a moment, though, a hundred different images of his face turned eagerly to hers, just like it was at that very moment, flashed through her thoughts. Taking a step back, she extended her hand for him to take.

Disappointment flashed in his eyes as they fell on her hand, hanging there in the air between them. Finally, he took it. Congratulations, Isaac, she said, her fingers limp in his.

2

NOW

Isaac woke to the sound of his name. He’d been dreaming of colors; black and blood red and trembling hands reaching through darkness, reaching for him. Whoever they belonged to called out to him and for a moment, still stuck between consciousness and sleep, he thought he was mistaken. But then he opened his eyes, blinking away twisted remnants of his imagination, and he heard the voice again.

Maxie was calling him.

Van lay beside him, arm thrown over his chest, long, smooth leg wrapped around his thigh, but her slumber was impenetrable. He slid out from under her and stole out of the bedroom toward the sound of Maxie’s voice.

Max? he called quietly, pushing her bedroom door open. But when he stepped into her room, it was empty. Maxie?

She called out to him again and he spun around to the emptiness behind him. Her voice sounded heavy and intoxicated. He rushed down the dark hall and through the living room. When he reached the kitchen, she was there standing motionless in the pitch black, shoulders slumped, head hanging. She clutched a long, wooden spoon in a tight fist. Isaac took a tentative step toward her. Max?

She didn't reply. She didn't acknowledge him at all. Maximilienne, he said more firmly. At last, she said his name again. Some slurred, groggy version of it at least. He stopped just before her and inhaled deeply. She was asleep. Ah, Maximilienne, he breathed, resisting the urge to take her into his arms. She wavered on her feet, groaned, twitched.

Maxie, he whispered, gently reaching for her. As soon as his fingers met her skin, she sucked in a sharp breath and shuddered violently. She stumbled back, her eyes wide and darting back and forth across the kitchen. When they fell on Isaac, she paled.

You’re alive, she breathed.

He recoiled. Of course I am. He raised his palms and reached for her again. Maxie, snap out of it.

She stared at him in wonder—in horror—as his hands went to her face, her hair. Then he gave her a light jolt. She blinked and, slowly, the haze of confusion faded from her eyes, replaced by something else. Warmth. Relief.

Then the spoon fell from her hands, hitting the floor with a loud crack, and her gaze darkened.

Isaac, she said, shaking her head as if to shake away any remnants of disorientation. She tensed and stepped out of his clutches. I’m sorry. I must have been… Her voice trailed off