Unethical

Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Maxim

S he looks out of place in my beat-up vehicle, as if she’s a flowering tree growing tall in the middle of a garbage dump. Just beauty surrounded by trash and disease.

I drive her to a park I used to visit when I was younger. My foster parents lived a ten-minute walk from here. I’m not even sure if the house has been resurrected or if it remains a crumbling heap of old bones that are eternally haunted by the screams of their foster children.

“Where are we going?” Sarah asks, wringing out her hands in her lap. She picks at her slacks as she looks around.

Her anxiety is eating away at her. Just being around me eats away at her. But maybe underneath that outer layer is the Sarah that she needs to be. That she deserves to be.

“Trove Park,” I say. “I used to visit this place a lot when I was growing up.”

Her eyes brighten because I’ve just presented her with a tidbit of information without forcing her to wrestle it out of me. I wish I could give her more, but it’s not easy for me to talk about my past. Bringing her here is a bigger step than she realizes. Or maybe she understands more than I give her credit for.

I pull into a spot at the very end of the parking lot. “I used to ride my rusty bike up here and put it right in that twisted hunk of metal they called a bike rack,” I say.

She peers through the windshield as if I’ve just told her we’re approaching the wreckage of the Titanic. It’s just an old bike rack to me, but to her, it’s a bridge to some inner sanctum I unknowingly revealed.

Aside from a few more rust patches on the swing set and a plastic slide instead of a metal ass-burner, the small playground looks much the same. The oaks towering above everything have even grown a bit themselves. I wonder if they remember me. I cried beneath them enough times, back before I learned of more satisfying ways to deal with my pain.

Three teenagers stand at the head of a nearby path. I can only hope they move along soon, because that’s where I want to take Sarah. The path leads to an eye-catching overlook of the city. It’s another place I went often as a kid, but I won’t tell her that.

I also won’t tell her how many times I considered jumping off the rocky edge and ending my suffering. Some things are better kept locked away.

I put the car in park and stare at the teens, waiting for them to move on. The youngest of the three boys separates from the two older kids, backing off and leaning against the No Parking sign. One of the older teens turns and rips the youngest’s hat from his head, then throws it to the ground. When the little guy leans down to pick it up, the second teen plants a kick into his ribs, sending him onto his side as he curls up.

Before I can tell myself to mind my own business, my hand is on the door handle and I’m ripping it open.

“Maxim—!” Sarah yells behind me, but I slam the door, cutting her off before she can plead for me to stop.

I walk over to the teens. The young one reminds me of an aged version of my brother, even down to the messy dark hair. I reach toward him.

“Who’s this? Your dad?” one of the older teens says.

I turn to him. “I’m not his dad, but if you give your mom a call and have her come by, I could have her calling me daddy.”

His cheeks flush, and he puffs on air. Mom jokes worked well for me in my younger days, and they appear to have withstood the test of time.

“Get going before I fuck you up,” I snarl.

“You won’t do shit,” the other older boy hisses, balling his hand into a fist.

Oh, I wish he would. If he hit me, I’d stomp him into the ground.

“I have done so much shit, little boy.” I roll up my sleeves. “I’ll gladly go back to prison with your blood on my hands, if that’s what you want.”

The two boys look around, then tuck their tails and take off.

I offer my hand to the young boy again, and he takes it. After I help him to his feet, I place his hat back on his head. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He looks around. “Thanks.”

I don’t know why I felt the need to run over and defend this kid. Maybe because I wish I’d done more for my brother. Defended him differently. Better.

“You need to pick better friends,” I say. “Find people who protect you and watch your back instead of stabbing a knife in it.”

The kid nods. “That’s my older brother and his friend. They didn’t want me to come along.”

“Well, maybe listen next time. Some brothers are bad news.” I pat his shoulder. “Go on home now, and when you get there, don’t tell your parents. Snitching isn’t a good look on anyone. Maybe he’ll grow out of this mean phase.”

As the kid hurries away, I can only hope he’s going back to a warm bed and home-cooked meals. I can only hope he has a better life than my brother and I knew.

When I turn around, I spot Sarah standing behind her open door. Her hands clench the rusting top of the window frame, and the look of relief on her face shines bright. I genuinely think she thought I was going to throw hands with a teen.

“I never realized there was this side to you,” she says as I approach her.

My shoulders rise in a shrug. “It wasn’t anything.”

“No, you’re right,” she says. “It wasn’t anything. Maxim, it was every thing.”

She bites her lip, steps forward, then pulls me into her. Her lips meet mine, and I’m almost too shocked to close my eyes. Who knew I needed to show just a tiny bit of kindness to get in her pants? If I’d known, I would have allowed her to see this side of me sooner.

I kiss her back, pulling her closer to my chest. When I try to pull away to talk, she engulfs my mouth again. She slides down the side of my car, fumbling to find the back door’s handle. She opens it, and we pour ourselves into the back seat.

My skin heats with the prospect of being inside her. I’ve ached for her since the fitting room, but I’ve wanted her to want me like this since before she even knew I existed.

She moves a pile of clothes off the back seat, mixing the scent of arousal with the smell of cigarettes. My mouth shifts to her neck, nipping the sensitive skin as she continues clearing room. My eyes are closed when she gasps, and before I even open them, I know it’s not a sound of pleasure.

And I know what she found.

“You fucking asshole!”

Her words punctuate the stale air, and my eyes fly open. She’s holding the mask.

Her face twists and contorts in ways I can’t even express—anger and sadness mixed with a hearty dose of betrayal.

“Get away from me! Get the fuck off me!” she snarls.

I ease my weight off of her, and she rushes out through the opposite door. I back out of the car and round the trunk, but she’s already striding away with her fists clenched at her sides.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not when everything was going so well.

I jog to catch up with her, then grip her arm to stop her when she shows no sign of slowing. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to hitchhike back to my car. And I never want to see you again, Maxim.”

“You aren’t hitchhiking with the I90 killer out there,” I tell her.

“I’ll chance it.”

I didn’t just say that to get her back into the car. It’s a genuine concern. The thought of someone harming her and dumping her body on the side of the road is more than I can bear. So I make the only deal I can to ensure her safety.

“Let me take you back to your car. Just let me know that you’re safe, and that will be it, doc. You’ll never see me again.”

Her darkened eyes meet mine. “Fine.”