Revved to the Maxx (Reynold's Restorations 1) - Page 84

“Like me?” she whispered.

“No, not in a good way. Demanding, controlling in ways you didn’t realize you were being controlled, if that makes any sense. Until she was gone, I didn’t realize how tired she made me. After the first little while, nothing was good enough. She was always wanting more. More money, more things, more—just everything.” I sighed, knowing I wasn’t explaining things very well.

“She was a taker,” Red murmured.

I barked out a laugh. “That’s what Mary called her. She disliked her right away, and Shannon made it plain she hated Mary. I had to choose between them, and I chose wrong. Luckily, Mary forgave me—she even made it possible for me to see her on occasion without Shannon around so we could keep in touch. And when it all blew up in my face, Mary never once said ‘I told you so.’”

Red chuckled. “I bet that took a lot of restraint on her part.”

I smirked. “I bet it did.”

“So, what happened?”

“We were fighting—a lot. Shannon and I. I was arguing with Billy too. Nothing I did was right with Shannon. I started noticing the business was being neglected. Monies weren’t being deposited. She always had an excuse, and at first, I believed her, then I started not to. That led to more fights. Then she started in on my parents. She thought I was weak to have been so close to them.” I snorted. “Mama’s boy, Daddy’s brat—she had lots of names for me. Finally, things got so bad, I knew it was over. We’d said too many hateful things, yelled too often. This place felt like a war zone, and I couldn’t escape it. It followed me to the garage, so I never got a break. I’d had enough, and after another disturbing visit to the bank, I came home early, ready to have it out with her. I wanted her gone. I knew she was stealing. I also realized she had no feelings for me. And never had. I was simply a pawn to her.”

“Oh, Maxx. How awful.”

“I walked into the shop and found Billy fucking her. Right in the middle of my shop, bent over some customer’s car.”

“Oh no.”

“We had a huge three-way fight. I fired him. Told her to get out. Things got really ugly, and I turned to walk away and call the cops, and the world went black.” I rubbed my hand over the back of my head, recalling the pain I felt when I woke up.

“When I came to, they were gone. So was anything of value, including my Indian motorcycle. She knew it was valuable, so did Billy. She had tried on more than one occasion to talk me into selling it, but I refused. But they both knew the sentimental value was worth more than any monetary value because…” I trailed off.

“Because you did it with your dad.”

“Yes. It was a part of me. And she took it. Along with some expensive tools, a bunch of cash, and my Ducati.”

“Maxx, what a betrayal.”

“It was more Billy than her, if I’m being honest. Things were so bad between us, I was almost grateful for her to be gone. Billy had been my friend for over ten years.”

She lifted her head and pressed a kiss to my jaw. “I’m sorry.”

Her soft words eased something in me.

“It would be hard to move past all that,” she mused.

“I went for some counseling. I needed some help to clear my head.”

“Do you think it helped?”

“I was able to sift through some thoughts and ideas—clear out the cobwebs, so to speak. The guy I went to was no-nonsense. Gruff. Spoke his mind. Called me an idiot more than once.”

“Oh. Um, the two of you must have gotten along well.”

I chuckled. “We were fine. He told me I was a grumpier sod than he was, even more so after we finished our sessions. I guess that’s just my true nature.”

She looked amused. “Not really a surprise.”

“Watch it,” I growled playfully. “He helped straighten me out some, and I see him on occasion if I need to.” I paused. “Frankly, having you here and all the changes you have made has done more in moving me forward than he managed to do.”

“It was too hard for you.”

I smiled at her fast defense of me. “I cleared out this room. Took all the furniture I hated to the flea market and put a sign up for free and walked away. Then I built this bed and the furniture.”

“You made all this?”

“Yeah. It was a good way to occupy my hands and mind. I hated the stuff she had bought. Minimalistic, I think she called it. Cheap, ugly shit, I called it.”

“I like this furniture.”

“I like how this bed looks with you in it.”

She giggled and burrowed closer. I noticed while we were talking, she was able to ignore the wind. It was beginning to die down, and I hoped she’d be able to sleep once we were done talking.

Tags: Melanie Moreland Reynold's Restorations Suspense
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