To Have It All Read online

  “You’ll be fine,” Helen yawned. “I’ll be back tomorrow after I visit the hospital.”

  Taking a good look at my sister, my shoulders sagged. Small dark circles surrounded her eyes, and her skin was pale. She was exhausted, and I was entirely to blame for it. Ever since the accident, she’d been by my side either in the hospital with my body or here with me, aiding me, as I stumbled my way through Max’s life.

  “Helen, take tomorrow off, okay. You need a day to kick back. In fact, I don’t want you coming out here every day. You’re pregnant. You need to take it easy and get some sleep.”

  Snapping her fiery gaze to mine, she answered, “I may only have days left with you, Liam. I can sleep the rest of my life, but I may not have my brother for it. I’ll be here in the morning after I go to the hospital.”

  Pulling her to me, I hugged her as she pressed her head to my chest. She sniffled a little, but didn’t cry. “It’s going to be okay, Hel Cat,” I promised. “No matter what, it’ll be okay.”

  While Waverly and Pimberly moving in with me was worrisome, it had been a welcome distraction. Helen and I spent the day focusing on helping Waverly, avoiding the bad news we’d received earlier. Not long before we ran into Waverly in the hospital lobby, the doctors had pulled Helen aside to update her on my health. It had been over a week, and there were no signs of brain activity. My pupils weren’t reactive to light, and I was unresponsive to any type of stimulus. Physically, I was dead, plain and simple. Only the miracle of modern medicine was keeping my body alive. The prognosis was dismal, to say the least. We’d already known this, but it was adamantly reiterated. The doctors believed without any doubt my brain would not recover. They strongly recommended taking me off life support.

  “I’m scared Liam,” Helen’s voice cracked.

  I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to get emotional. Max’s fucking steroid use was still messing with me, making me feel like a woman. Was this what PMS was like for ladies? One minute I felt fine, then I’d feel weepy, then I’d be pissed off. I felt insane. I swore to myself I’d never make another fucking joke about ladies during their time of the month again.

  Now, with my prognosis unchanged added to the mix of the overwhelming task of maintaining Max’s life; the idea that Max was trapped in my body, frozen; the workload it was creating for Helen; not to mention the possible psychological damage I was doing to Pimberly and Waverly—there were more than enough reasons to take my body off life support and see what cards fate would deal.

  “In two weeks, Helen,” I told her as I kissed the top of her head.

  Pulling back, she stared up at me. “Two weeks what?”

  I swallowed hard, preparing myself for her reaction. I knew she wasn’t going to like what I had to say. “After Waverly and Pimberly go home, we’re going to take my body off life support.”

  “Li—”

  I held my hand up, stopping her. “If there’s no evidence my body will wake up we have to do the right thing. If Max is trapped in there, he deserves to be able to switch back to his body or even move on to. . . .” I motioned my hand to the ceiling, “the other side.”

  “What do you mean he deserves it?” she hissed.

  “Okay, maybe the guy’s an asshole, but no one deserves that, Hel. And what about me? I can’t live like this. I can’t pretend to be him when I’m . . . me, ya know? If I get stuck in his body forever . . . that’s one thing, but I can’t live knowing he’s trapped there, and at any moment we could switch back, or I could die, or whatever.”

  The elevator dinged as the doors slid open. I stuck my hand out to hold them open while Helen stared at the floor. She needed a moment to absorb what I was saying, and no matter how long it took, I’d give her that.

  “Okay,” she acquiesced after a brief silence, “but promise me something.” She rubbed at her nose with her sleeve.

  “What?”

  “Live these next two weeks, okay? I mean,” she paused, clearing the emotion from her throat, searching for words, “Really live, Liam,” she finally finished. “Spend some of this guy’s money. He’s got a ton. It doesn’t make you an asshole or a thief. Do something fun and crazy. Laugh. Love on that little girl. Maybe you don’t feel like she’s yours, but she may be the closest you’ll ever get to being a daddy. It may only be two weeks, but it could be special. Just please,” she wept as she rested a firm hand on my chest, “live.”

  Nodding, I added, “I will. Now promise me no more tears and that you won’t exhaust yourself.”

  “I’ll try,” she promised before stepping up and kissing my cheek. “Call me if you or Waverly need anything.”

  “I will. Give David a hug for me.” We’d discussed bringing David in the loop, trying to include him, but in the end, we decided, for the time being, not to tell him I was alive in Max’s body—not that he knew who Max was. It wasn’t an easy decision, especially since I loved my nephew like a son, but we agreed to wait until we knew more.

  I waited until the elevator doors closed before I went back to the apartment. Closing the door quietly, hoping not to wake Pimberly, I crept to the living room and plopped on the couch.

  Two weeks.

  My fate would be decided in a measly fourteen days. On one hand, fourteen days felt like the blink of an eye, but on the other . . . it felt like eternity. The hardest part was not knowing what would happen. I mean, it would be one thing if I’d known for sure I would die, but I didn’t. I couldn’t make any big changes or decisions because I had no way of knowing if Max would end up back in his body, with the consequences of the decisions I’d made in his lap. Not that I would do anything illegal or harmful, but I still felt obligated to preserve his lifestyle as much as I could. I would not be a cruel and selfish dick, though. I didn’t care if that pissed him off or not.

  Lost in thought, I almost dozed off when I heard Pimberly babbling, her baby voice so soft and sweet. The bedroom door was cracked open, so I peeked inside. Waverly was on her back, her foot propped up on a pile of pillows. She was out cold, not at all phased by Pimberly. I guess the pain pills got to her. It was the first time I’d seen her at ease; relaxed. So far, the only version of Waverly I’d known was a woman scorned, a woman bent out of shape and on edge. The more I discovered about Max and what he’d done to her, the more I understood why she was this way. It was pretty damn sad. I knew when she was rude to me—condescending and insulting—it was meant for Max, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Still, I understood. Ornery as she might have been, it certainly didn’t take away from her beauty. I couldn’t help it. I stared at her for a moment. The strap of her tank hung loosely over her shoulder exposing the slightest curve of her breast. Her skin looked so fucking smooth. I wondered how soft it would feel beneath my fingertips . . . how good it would feel letting my lips graze.

  Pimberly gurgled something jerking my attention away. I scrubbed my face roughly a few times to clear my thoughts. What the hell was I just doing? I’d been sitting there staring at Waverly like a fucking perv in front of her daughter. Get it together, Liam, I scolded myself.

  Treading lightly as not to disturb Waverly, I pulled her shirt strap up and tugged the blankets over her, then switched off the lamp on the nightstand. Peering down at her, I don’t know why, but I whispered, “Night.”

  Scooping Pimberly up, I grabbed a diaper and some wipes and brought her out to the living room. After I had changed her, we laid on the couch, and I pulled up some photos of bikes.

  “That,” I showed her the photo of the bike, “is a 1948 Panhead. That’s my dream bike.”

  “Bike,” she gurgled as she stabbed her chubby finger at the phone screen.

  Laughing, I squeezed her to me and kissed her temple. She was too damn cute. Something about this kid made my heart swell. For a moment, maybe the first time since I became Max Porter, I actually felt sorry for him. This little girl, his little girl was amazing, and he would never know it. The worst part was it was his choice not to know it.
Most little girls want to hear stories of princess’s and fairy tales, but Pim wanted to look at Harley’s and watch bike races. She was rare; one of a kind. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing with you, kid,” I told her. “If I ever have a daughter of my own, I want her to be just like you.”

  “Li-ham,” she whispered as she lay her head on my chest and snuggled closer.

  And that was it. I was done. Pimberly had officially stolen my heart.

  My eyelids felt like lead as I pried them open the next morning, allowing the harsh lighting from the morning sun to blind me. The retina-destroying sunlight, coupled with the pain meds making me groggy made climbing out of bed feel almost impossible. Damn, the sun was bright. I sneered at it as if it could see my disdain. Stupid sun. Why in the hell would anyone want floor to ceiling windows? Then I snickered to myself, amused by my question.

  This is Max we’re talking about, Waverly. There would always be a huge question mark over that man. He was a riddle—the worst kind, too. Women might enjoy a little mystery when it comes to a man—the thrill and the danger of the unknown—but Max wasn’t that. He was the farthest from it. The questions surrounding Max were sad, really. Why was he so selfish? Why was he so mean? Why did he abandon his wife and daughter?

  Rubbing my face, I groaned softly to myself. “Don’t think about it, Waverly. He’s not worth the brain cells you’d burn trying to figure it out.”

  With that thought, I shot straight up. “Max,” I gasped, jerking my gaze to Pim’s travel crib. “Pimberly?” I called quietly. From where I sat on the bed, all I could see was a mound of her blanket. I didn’t want to scare her if she was still sleeping.

  Grunting softly, I gently moved my injured foot to the floor and stood on my good one. Using the bed for balance, I limped toward her crib and peeked in. She wasn’t there. My entire body tensed in panic. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind the idea that Max, or anyone for that matter, had taken her was ridiculous, but I won’t lie and say it didn’t cross my mind. My other thought was . . . what if Pim climbed out of the crib and had been wandering around the apartment unattended for hours? Max’s home was not child-proofed. Who knew what he had in his cabinets or drawers? I cringed thinking about it. Hobbling back to the side of the bed where I had slept, I grabbed my crutches and hightailed it out the door. The bedroom door wasn’t closed all the way, so I didn’t wake Max or Pim when I whipped it open and practically fell through it in my hurry.

  And there they were, sound asleep on the couch.

  Pim was snoring, her little fist balling up some of Max’s white T-shirt in her hand, her mouth slightly parted as she breathed slowly. One of Max’s hands rested on her back, almost protectively, his other was behind his head. I swallowed hard as I watched them. If life were different, this would have been a perfect photo op. An image to frame to show a father and his daughter sharing a sweet and loving moment. What this was . . . I wasn’t sure.

  For a split second, anger surged through me; the bitterness I felt toward Max seizing me, refusing to let me see even the slightest beauty in this, but I fought it. I’d been good and bitter for years, and I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t still have days where it got me, but I’d worked hard to fight it because what I learned was my hurt, anger, and disdain for Max in no way changed him. It didn’t make him a better man; it didn’t make him love Pimberly or me. It didn’t make my life better. In fact, it only made my life worse. How heavy the weight of hate can be. It can drown you. For months after Max abandoned me, I’d sat in my room with my laptop, scrolling Pinterest, and inundated myself with quotes about letting go and moving on. None of it helped, but rather hindered me more. Moving on is a choice. We can either remain cemented in the past, or we can forge forward in search of better days.

  Hate is love’s nemesis, yet the two are so closely linked; almost hand and hand. You can only hate someone if you love them. When I thought about it, I realized I didn’t love Max. I loved myself in love. I loved the way I felt confident in knowing I had someone, I had a partner in crime. When I delved deeper, though, I didn’t even have that with Max. He was never my partner in crime, my confidant. All I ever loved was an illusion, an idea. I could hate him for being a deadbeat to my daughter, but I couldn’t hate him for my illusions. I saw what I wanted to see, and that was my fault, not his.

  When Max’s phone rang, I nearly jumped out of my skin when it startled me. He’d set his ringer to the sound of a motorcycle revving. What the hell was going on with this bike obsession? It was weird. How did a grown man just wake up one day and start loving motorcycles? Jerking up, careful not to move too much as he tried not to disturb Pim—who wasn’t at all fazed by the obnoxious ring tone—Max used his free hand to search for the phone frantically. When he found it, he thumbed the accept button and answered.

  “Hel,” he croaked. “What time is it?”

  Hel I knew was Helen. I’d heard him call her that a few times the day before.

  “They’re still sleeping,” he chuckled softly as he bent his head down and looked at Pim, his mouth turning up. “Pim’s sleeping on my chest.”

  Hel said something and Max closed his eyes and shook his head. “I will not take a selfie of us, Hel,” he informed her in a whisper. After a few seconds, he added, “No.” I guessed another refusal from him after she’d pushed. “You’re still at the hospital?”

  He was quiet for a moment, and then his mouth flattened, and the muscles in his jaw ticked as he asked, “Well, what did they say?”

  As he listened, it finally occurred to me I was one hundred percent eavesdropping. The pain meds were making me slow, I’d been standing there listening to his conversation like a fly on the wall, but if I moved now, he’d hear me. It was wrong to continue to stand there without making my presence known, but I realized something. I never figured out why Helen and Max were at the hospital the day before. I was so caught up in my own issues and worried about how I was going to care for Pimberly, I completely forgot to ask what they were doing there.

  Before I could finish that thought or decide what to do, Max said, “Liver failure?” Letting out a deep sigh, his whole body seemed to deflate as he listened to whatever she was saying.

  “So we’re working with less than a week now?”

  My brows furrowed as I listened. What were they talking about? Or who, rather?

  “Look,” he huffed. “Let’s talk about it later. I’ll see you in a little while.”

  When he finally hung up, he dropped his phone by his side and bent his neck, gently kissing the top of Pim’s head as she began to stir.

  “Morning, little sweetheart,” he rasped. “Looks like we pulled an all-nighter on the couch.”

  “Do you still drink coffee?” I finally asked, making my presence known. Max’s head jerked back at the sound of my voice. Clearly, I’d startled him.

  “Oh, morning,” he grunted as he sat up, holding Pim tight to him. “I didn’t hear you come out.” His usually perfect hair was disheveled, one side sticking straight up and his shirt was wrinkled, but with Pim curled in his arms, he looked . . . fatherly. He looked like what I’d once dreamed of. He looked . . . sexy.

  “The sound of a motorcycle revving woke me,” I lied as I moved a step back with my crutches. Maybe I was petty for making fun of his ring tone, but it felt good to take a stab at him.

  He shrugged, not missing the sarcasm in my comment. “I dig the ring tone.” Then turning his head to Pim, he said in a goofy voice, “We dig it, don’t we Pim?”

  “Milk,” Pim replied.

  “She’s like her Mama,” I informed Max, quirking one eyebrow. “You can’t speak to her until she’s had her milk, just like you can’t speak to me until I’ve had my coffee.”

  “Is that so?” he chuckled, half his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Dually noted. Well, why don’t you have a seat, and after I get Pim’s diaper changed, I’ll get the coffee going.” Sitting Pim on the floor, he stood and lifted his arms above his head, giving himse
lf a long morning stretch.

  The first button of his jeans was undone, causing them to hang from his hips slightly. When his shirt lifted as he stretched, it revealed the lower part of his muscular abdomen with the slightest dusting of hair. His body hadn’t changed much, it still looked amazing, but the way he moved, the way he carried himself was different, and there was something about it I found absolutely mesmerizing. The more time I spent with Max, the more entranced I became by it.

  “I can make the coffee,” I informed him. “If you don’t mind changing her.”

  “You sure?” he queried as he lowered his arms and rolled his shoulders a few times. “I know things will be a little difficult until you get used to the crutches and all.”

  “I got it.”

  As I hobbled toward the kitchen, Max lifted Pim and started making plane sounds as he carried her over his head into the bedroom. I couldn’t help smiling a little as Pim howled with laughter.

  Ten minutes later, after muttering a handful of obscenities, I finally managed to get the coffee going. The crutches weren’t the problem, the fancy-ass coffee maker was. Five minutes in I was ready to fling it across the kitchen. While the pot brewed, I went back to the living room and plopped down on the couch, exhausted. Who knew making coffee could be so daunting?

  “You okay?” Max asked as he carried Pimberly back in. He’d put her in a clean outfit, but her hair was still wild from sleeping.

  “Yeah. That coffee maker is insane,” I complained as I reached my hands up indicating I wanted him to hand Pim to me. “Hi, baby,” I purred as she reached out for me.

  “I don’t even know why anyone would want something so complicated,” he grumbled. “It shouldn’t take that long to make coffee.”

  “Then why’d you buy it?”

  “I don’t know,” he murmured under his breath as he walked away from us.

  Pim and I played for a few minutes while Max tinkered in the kitchen. When he yelled, “How do you like your coffee,” I gritted my teeth. Maybe it was stupid to get upset that he didn’t remember, but it seemed too simple not to remember.