“Stop worrying, baby,” he said against my lips just before he kissed me hard enough to leave me rattled. Pulling away, he gave me his characteristic cocky grin and started to push through the people again.

He headed straight for the bar, not responding to anyone who attempted to speak to him. He motioned for the bartender to attend to us. The man came over, acknowledging Maxx with a nod of his head. He had a multicolored Mohawk and the customary piercings in his nose and lip.

“Eric, this is Aubrey. She’s my girl. Make sure she gets whatever she wants,” he commanded.

“Sure thing, dude,” Eric said, smiling in a way that was almost attractive. He turned his attention to me.

“What can I get you?”

“Uh, just a beer, thanks,” I said, yelling to be heard over the music. After getting my drink, I cradled it close to my chest, causing Maxx to smirk.

“I see you’ve learned your lesson,” he said, motioning to the drink I had tucked close to me.

“Fool me once,” I replied, raising my drink and saluting him with it.

He leaned in close so that his lips touched my ear. “No one will mess with you as long as you’re with me. They know better. And if they don’t, I’ll make sure they do.”

His words were hard and cold, and I had no doubt he meant them. I pulled away from him slightly, putting the bottle to my mouth and taking a drink. His mood was edgy, and it was contagious. I felt restless and disquieted.

Maxx had one arm wrapped tightly around my middle, his other hand jammed in his pocket. He watched the crowd closely. He rocked a bit to the beat, but I held myself rigid beside him.

“Why did that guy call you X?” I asked him, practically yelling in his ear. Maxx’s lazy smirk slipped a bit at my question. Even though he continued to hold me close, I felt him distancing himself.

“It’s my name,” he replied shortly.

“No, X is the person who paints those pictures. The person I was asking you about earlier,” I remarked, my accusation clear. He had been dishonest . . . again.

Maxx shrugged, still not looking at me, still moving in time with the beat. “So what? I paint some pictures on f**king buildings. What’s the big deal?” he asked, his words clipped and angry.

What was the big deal? Was he serious?

Those pictures had been my first link to him. They had drawn me in with their raw beauty. And now that I was connecting the man I loved to the mysterious figure who had painted them, I was both furious and exhilarated.

Because I had seen something in those paintings that gave me hope that deep down Maxx believed he could be something more.

But he hadn’t been truthful. When I had given him the opportunity to come clean, he had evaded and withdrawn.

We were running around in a circle, constantly repeating the same tragic mistakes over and over again.

“You lied to me!” I shouted, feeling my anger flare up at his casual dismissal.

Maxx’s arm dropped from around my waist. He twisted me so that I was pressed against his chest. He grabbed my chin and held it firmly between his fingers.

“I did not lie to you! I omitted a truth. That is not the same thing,” he reasoned, his eyes hidden beneath the bill of his cap.

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his statement. But I didn’t. Because I could tell he believed his words wholeheartedly. In his mind, eliminating a few key facts was not the same thing as being deceitful. I knew instantly that this was the only way he was able to justify his actions and his continued dishonesty, his omission of truths from Landon and from me.

It was how he was able to look in the mirror and not hate himself. It was how he was able to so readily put on the mask and play the part of X.

For the first time, I saw just how totally he separated himself, why he purposefully kept his lives apart.

It made me sad. It made me heartsick for him.

And God help me, it made me love him more.

I opened my mouth to say the words I had been denying him. Here in this crazy, messed-up world, I wanted to tell him that I loved him and that I accepted all of his truths, whatever they were.

Before I could utter a syllable, a girl came up and leaned into Maxx on his other side. She either didn’t realize or didn’t care that his arm was around me. She lifted her hand and ran a finger down the side of his neck. He jerked away from her touch.

“Don’t,” he warned. She was either stupid or irrationally horny, because she didn’t listen. Before I knew what was happening, she had pushed her pelvis up against Maxx’s hip and started to rock against him, pressing her br**sts into his arm. I could only stand there, gaping in shock at her forwardness.

“I know you’ve got it. I’ll give you whatever you want,” she shouted over the music. Was this chick for real? And was this how my boyfriend, the man I had been about to confess my feelings to, conducted his “business”?

Maxx shrugged her off, and she stumbled a bit before looking at me. She grimaced and had the decency to look embarrassed by her behavior.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here with someone. I just thought . . . ,” she began, and Maxx glared at her, shutting her up.

“You thought wrong. Now get out of here!” he told her firmly. The girl suddenly looked meek, and I sort of felt sorry for her. She was pretty, wearing clothes that weren’t cheap, and I found myself wondering what brought her here, and why she wanted what she thought only Maxx could give her. All of these people were the same. They were running from something. Including Maxx.