Stranger in my Ass-Chapter 285

Maxwell’s POV

I woke to the sound of rain.

Not the violent, angry downpour from last night, but a steady, persistent drumming against the windows.

My eyes opened slowly, and for a moment I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, taking inventory of my body.

Everything hurt, but it was a dull, manageable hurt now instead of the sharp, burning agony from before. My chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped bands around my ribs, but I could breathe without wanting to die.

Progress. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

I turned my head and found the other side of the bed empty, the covers thrown back carelessly.

Ian was gone.

I reached for my phone - which wasn’t there, because I’d thrown it on the beach last night - and looked at the clock on the nightstand instead.

1:03 PM.

I’d slept for... God. I’d slept like a dead man.

Almost was a dead man, I reminded myself.

I sat up slowly, testing my body’s limits, and was pleasantly surprised when the room didn’t spin and I didn’t immediately collapse.

Small victories.

I could hear voices coming from somewhere in the house. Distant but distinct enough to make out that there were at least two people talking.

One of them had to be Olivia.

The thought got me moving faster than my body was probably ready for.

I stood, steadied myself against the nightstand when my legs wobbled slightly, then made my way toward the door.

The voices were coming from up ahead.

I walked down the short hallway, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor, following the sound.

And stopped in the doorway.

They were in the kitchen, which was small and cozy, filled with warm morning light - or afternoon light, I supposed, given the time. Rain streaked the windows, blurring the view of the beach beyond, but the storm had definitely calmed since last night.

Olivia sat at the small kitchen table, wrapped in an oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She was holding a mug between both hands, steam rising from whatever was inside, and she was...

Smiling.

Actually smiling.

And the reason for that smile was Ian, who was moving around the kitchen wearing a goddamn apron - where had he even found an apron? - and doing something at the stove that involved a lot of unnecessary flourishes with a spatula.

"I’m telling you," Ian was saying, his voice animated, "the secret is in the flip. You have to commit. No half measures. It’s pancakes or death."

Olivia laughed - a soft, genuine sound that made my chest ache.

"That’s very dramatic for breakfast food," she said, her voice still a little hoarse but warm with laughter.

"All food is dramatic if you cook it right," Ian replied seriously, then did some ridiculous flip with the spatula that made Olivia laugh again.

I stood there, frozen in the doorway, just watching them.

Watching her.

She looked okay. Tired, maybe, with shadows under her eyes that hadn’t been there before. But alive and laughing.

Everything I’d been terrified I’d never see again.

Ian said something else I didn’t catch, then reached forward with a napkin and wiped something from the corner of Olivia’s mouth - a drop of coffee, probably, or tea.

The gesture was casual. Intimate in a way that made something hot and ugly coil in my stomach.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

He saved your life, I reminded myself firmly. He saved hers. He’s being kind. Don’t be an asshole.

But the rational part of my brain was rapidly losing ground to the part that wanted to march over there and put myself physically between them.

I cleared my throat instead.

Both of them turned to look at me.

Olivia’s eyes widened slightly, and she stood up so fast her chair scraped against the floor.

"Maxwell," she breathed, my name coming out soft and surprised. "You’re awake. Finally."

"Finally," I agreed, trying for a smile and probably failing. "I didn’t expect to sleep that long."

We stared at each other across the kitchen.

The air between us felt thick, heavy with everything we hadn’t said. Everything we needed to say.

Ian looked between us, his expression knowing, then gestured to the chair opposite Olivia with his spatula.

"Take a seat," he said cheerfully, like he hadn’t just witnessed whatever intense moment had just passed. "I made enough for three. Hope you like pancakes, because that’s all I know how to make and I’m not taking requests."

I walked to the table slowly and sat down across from Olivia, our eyes still locked on each other.

She looked away first, taking a sip from her mug.

Ian placed a plate in front of me - pancakes, surprisingly good-looking ones, with butter melting on top.

"Coffee or tea?" he asked.

"Coffee," I said, my voice coming out rougher than I’d intended. "Please."

"Good choice. Olivia had asked for tea, which is fine, but wrong for the situation." Ian moved to pour coffee from a pot on the counter. "How are you feeling this morning? Still feel like you got hit by a truck, or have we downgraded to like... a bicycle?"

Despite myself, I felt a small smile tug at my lips.

"Somewhere between a bicycle and a motorcycle," I said.

"Progress." Ian set the coffee mug down in front of me. "You’ll be back to normal in a few days. Probably. I’m not a doctor, so don’t quote me on that."

I took a sip of the coffee - strong, hot, perfect - and felt some of the fog in my head clear.

Ian sat down at the table too, which meant we were now all sitting together in what felt like the world’s most awkward breakfast situation.

Well, lunch situation. Given the time.

"So," Ian said, cutting into his own pancakes. "Olivia told me about the attack last night. A guy with a knife, chased her into the ocean." He paused, his expression darkening. "That’s some serious shit. Any idea who it was?"

I felt Olivia’s eyes on me, watching my reaction.

This was delicate. I needed to tell her the truth - about my father, about everything - but not here. Not with Ian listening to every word.

For all I knew, Ian could be working with my father. Or he could be exactly what he claimed - a good Samaritan who’d been in the wrong place at the right time.

But I didn’t trust him. Couldn’t trust him.

Not when Olivia’s safety was at stake.

"Did you see the guy?" Ian pressed when I didn’t answer immediately. "When you went after Olivia? You must have gotten a look at him."

I shook my head, keeping my expression neutral.

"He ran when he saw me coming," I said, which was technically true. "It was too dark and rainy to get a good look at his face."

Ian frowned. "That’s not great. Means he could still be out there somewhere."

"He can’t have gone far in this storm," I pointed out.

"Exactly." Ian leaned back in his chair, his casual demeanor slipping slightly to reveal something more serious underneath. "Which means we need to be careful until the storm passes and we can get out of here. Or until the phones come back online and we can call for help."

"I’ll protect her," I said, the words coming out harder than I’d intended. My eyes met Olivia’s across the table. "I won’t let anyone hurt her."

Olivia’s expression flickered with something I couldn’t quite read. Then she looked down at her tea, a faint smile on her lips that didn’t reach her eyes.

The silence stretched out, uncomfortable and tense.

"How long do you think the storm will last?" I asked, desperate to fill the quiet.

Ian shrugged. "No idea. Could be hours, could be days. No way to check the weather without internet or phone service. We’re basically stranded here until it passes."

Great. Stranded in a beach house with Olivia and her annoyingly helpful neighbor while my supposedly dead father was somewhere out there in the storm.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

We finished eating in near silence, the only sounds the scrape of forks against plates and the steady drum of rain.

Olivia didn’t say a word. Just sipped her tea and picked at her pancakes, avoiding my eyes.

I needed to talk to her. Alone. Without Ian hovering.

"Olivia," I said when I’d finished eating, my voice quiet. "Can we talk? In your room?"

She looked up at me, her eyes searching my face for something.

Then she nodded.

"Excuse us," she said to Ian, standing up and carrying her mug with her.

Ian waved us off with his fork. "Take your time. I’ll just be here. Cleaning. Like the helpful guest I am."