Within This Frame (38 page)

The air became stifling as more bodies appeared. Needing a breather, Lance stumbled up the stairs and out the front door, gulping in the cool February night air. He went to his ass on the ground, and then he let his head fall back, banging it against a small, sharp rock. It wasn’t long before he was shivering in his tee shirt and jeans. Spread-eagled on the gravel driveway, he didn’t move, not caring if a car drove over him.

Lance closed his eyes and inhaled, but the sound of angry voices had him immediately springing to his feet. He recognized Maggie’s voice, faint as it was. He followed the sound of it, footsteps fast as he shot through bushes and tree limbs, finding her with a tall, dark-haired guy near the backside of the house. The yard was spacious and clear, and the moon perfectly spotlighted the pair.

“I said no.” Maggie tried to get around the guy, but he blocked her.

“Come on, don’t be a tease,” he coaxed, a hand moving for her chest.

“Don’t touch me!” She slapped his hand away.

The man grabbed her wrist. “You’re being a bitch right now, you know that?”

Lance’s jaw hardened and he shoved the guy to the side. “Get away from her.”

The guy was taller and more muscular than Lance and his pupils were dilated with a drug of some kind. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Touch her again, and I’ll break your fingers,” Lance vowed, moving between the two.

“You’re Lance Denton, aren’t you? Think you’re a tough guy, huh, just because you got money?” he snarled, fingers clenching and releasing as he advanced.

“No, I’m a tough guy because if you touch her again, I’m going to break your fingers,” he said slowly.

He looked around Lance. “Tell him to get lost.”

“No. I want you to go.” Her voice was shaky, but firm. “I made a mistake. I don’t want to do this.”

The guy’s face darkened and he took a step closer. “Give me back the drugs and I’ll go.”

Lance glanced over his shoulder at Maggie, saw the guilt and shame crash over her face. He faced the guy once more. “You need to leave.”

“Those drugs cost money! I want them back, or I want a piece of ass to compensate for the loss of them. You promised me a good time, and you’re going to deliver.”

Rage slammed through him and Lance swung, clipping the guy’s chin and setting his knuckles on fire. The guy staggered back, face twisting, and Lance braced himself when he came at him. The guy was big, but he was clumsy. Knowing it was going to hurt, Lance readied himself for pain and punched him again. Something cracked in his hand as it connected with his face, and the guy fell to his knees, crumpling on the grass with a groan. Lance’s hand throbbed, already swelling.

Without saying a word, Lance took Maggie by the hand and dragged her along behind him. He was angry at her—at her behavior, at her actions, at the way she was treating herself. She stayed quiet, tripping once and righting herself, until they were in the front yard.

Maggie jerked her hand from his, rubbing the flesh around it. “Thank you,” she said stiffly, avoiding his eyes.

“How did you get here?” Lance stared at her pale face, not recognizing the person before him.

“How did you get here?” she shot back.

“I have a designated driver to take me home. Do you?”

Maggie laughed darkly. “You just knocked him out. Pretty sure he wouldn’t have taken me home now anyway, though, so whatever.”

“What are you doing to yourself?” It was a question, and a plea, and a demand.

She pressed her lips together and looked at a copse of trees nearby, her arms around her frail frame as though to hold in heat.

Lance put his face close to hers and she had no choice but to look at him. “Drugs? You’re doing drugs now?”

“Like you haven’t,” she sneered.

“Yeah, but not often, and not anymore. And especially not from people who could hurt me.” Frustrated, he gestured to her body. “And you’re so damn skinny. Are you not eating, are you sick, what? What is going on with you?”

She blinked her eyes, her mouth quivering. “Haven’t you read the tabloids? No one likes a fat actress.”

“Are you insane?” Lance threw up his hands. “You are skin and bones,” he said thickly. “There isn’t an ounce of fat on you. You’ve never been fat. Stop doing this. Whatever you’re doing, stop.”

Maggie dropped her arms and glared at him. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I have it under control.”

“You do not have it under control,” he retorted. “You barely look like you’re hanging on.”

“Just leave me alone,” she mumbled, stumbling toward the house.

Lance went after her. “What drug did you do, Maggie?”

She spun around. “Leave me alone!” Maggie’s eyes were unfocused and dark, her face warped with fury. “I want nothing to do with you! I can’t stand the sight of you. I hate you. I hate you.”

He fell back a step, surprised by the outburst.

“You don’t hate me,” he said softly.

“You kept pushing me and pushing me. You had to get to me. You couldn’t leave me alone.” Her eyes shone with dampness and betrayal. “I was the one girl who wanted to be left alone, the one girl who didn’t need you to want them, and you just couldn’t have that, could you? You needed to prove something. I hate you, Lance Denton. I hate you as much as I once loved you.”

“You don’t . . .” His voice faded and it hurt to pull air into his lungs. “You don’t mean that. You don’t hate me. Maggie . . . Maggie, you know I loved you. I know I said . . . what I said, but I did love you. I did.”

“Shut up, Lance. I can’t even stand to hear your voice. Do you know that? I hate everything about you.” Tears streamed from eyes that stared into him and saw nothing. “That love I had for you? That was with my whole being, with all I had to give. That’s how much I loved you. I was the one person who would have loved you no matter what, and you couldn’t handle that. You had to prove that love is always expendable. It didn’t have to be. Not with me.”

His throat closed and Lance dropped his eyes to his shoes. There was no conscious decision to sabotage their relationship, but subconsciously? Yeah. It was there. He couldn’t deal with emotions like that. Lance didn’t know how.

Maggie moved closer to him, and with her eyes locked on his, she whispered against his mouth, “I want you to remember what my love felt like, and I want you to know that depth of emotion, that aweing, overwhelming, all-consuming way I loved you, and imagine that as hate. Take all of that love, and turn it into something bad, and there you go. You have it. Enjoy it.”

“I’ll take it,” he breathed, his lips grazing hers.

She blinked, touching a hand to her mouth as she put space between them. “What?”

Lance shrugged, the pressure in his chest escalating, crushing him. “I’ll take it, Maggie, I’ll take whatever you give me, just . . . don’t do this to yourself. Please.”

Her face crumpled. “You never stop, do you?”

“No. I don’t know how with you.” Lance wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her neck. He was shaking, holding her and yet he felt like he had none of her. “I’m sorry, Maggie. You know I’m sorry.”

She was stiff in his arms. “I know, but it doesn’t matter.” Maggie took his hands from her and turned toward the house. “Don’t talk to me anymore, Lance. Talking to you hurts me.”

Maggie took two steps and collapsed.

The ambulance was there in minutes, but it felt like hours.

He didn’t know how he got to the hospital—he thought he remembered telling Donovan to drop him off and go.

Lance wasn’t allowed to see her, and it felt like he was unconscious right along with her.

The walls were white, piercing through his retinas and shoving nothingness into his soul.

There were chairs.

And people.

And noise. Noise surrounded him, and all he heard was silence.

He wanted to smell oranges, and bleach instead filled his nose.

Judith was there.

Maggie’s dad.

Her mom.

Nora.

Lance was alone.

He wasn’t told anything, eyes blinded by hot tears and still searching their faces for a sign that she was okay.

Lance stood set apart from them, scared, lost, and ignored.

And then they left to go to Maggie.

The door was closed. It would stay closed for him.

Flashes of Maggie stormed through his head.

The first smile she gave him.

The first real kiss.

Her laughter.

Her anger.

The last time she loved him.

The last real smile.

The broken look on her face when he cheated on her with Tabitha.

The sadness that never really went away when she looked at him.

How she got skinnier.

And skinnier.

And skinnier.

The pain in her eyes.

The hatred.

The last thing she said to him.

Lance was driven half-mad with the images of her, and with the fear pounding with his heart, streaming through his veins, and clamped tight to his back. It shadowed him. Hovered. Whispered in his ear. What if she wasn’t okay? What if there was permanent damage? What if she didn’t make it? He knew nothing.
Nothing.

Lance paced the length of the waiting room, trembling and jumpy and sick. His heart literally ached, his arms heavy with the need to hold her. He just wanted to see her. Just once. And then he would go.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Sprinting for the room marked as hers, Lance reached for the doorknob and was stopped by a doctor. “You’re not allowed to go in there, Mr. Denton.”

“Why?” he rasped.

“It was the patient’s orders.”

He rested his hands against the door and lowered his head. She had to be okay then, if she’d been lucid enough to tell someone that. That was a good thing, even as it twisted his heart that that was what she wanted.

Lance nodded and straightened. “She’s going to be okay? She must be. Right? Please tell me.” His eyes pleaded with the doctor.

The brown-haired man dressed in slacks and a dress shirt inclined his head. “I cannot tell you that. You look tired. Some rest would be good for you. Why don’t you go home? I’m sure someone will call you and let you know.”

“I’ll go, as soon as I know she’s all right,” Lance said in a flat voice.

The doctor eyed him, clasping his hands. “That’s not possible.”

Frustrated, Lance fisted his hand and brought it to the door. “Maggie! Please, Maggie, let me see you. Let me see you and I’ll leave! Maggie.”

The doctor grabbed his shoulder. “Step away from the door, or I’m going to call the police.” He was calm, bored even.

Lance shrugged him off and moved with imbalanced, heavy steps. “I’m fine. I’m going.”

He didn’t go.

He couldn’t.

Judith found him the next morning, hunched over in the seat in which he’d slept off and on. Lance’s eyes were on fire, his mouth dry. He went to stand, but his legs were too weak. He stared at her, bleak and broken.

“She’s going to be okay,” she told him.

Lance’s shoulders fell and he dropped his head to his hands, tears stinging his eyes.

“She’s exhausted, stressed out, and not eating right. That, combined with the drugs and alcohol in her system, was too much for her body. She’s stable now, but Maggie has a long way to go before she’s healthy. It has been suggested that she see someone, a professional—someone that can help her.”

“Thank you,” he whispered as he lifted his head. Lance didn’t see kindness in the gray eyes set on him, but he thought he saw empathy.

“I know you still love her, messed up as the whole situation is,” Judith said, fiddling with her earlobe. “And because of that, I’m going to give you some advice.”

Lance slowly stood, bracing himself for Judith’s words.

“Let her live her life, Lance, and stay out of it. She won’t be able to get better unless she can move on from you, and if she’s around you, she won’t be able to do that.”

He stared at the woman. “The show’s done.”

Judith met his gaze. “Not officially, but yes, the show is done.”

With tears on his cheeks, he nodded, knowing she was right. It was over. Maggie and Lance were done. It was all done.

“Go home. Get some rest. Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Sure.”

Lance turned away from Judith and walked out of the hospital, feeling like he left a part of himself—the best part—back in the building. He aimlessly treaded through the hospital parking lot in the frigid air, coatless and numb. Lance was vaguely aware of Donovan jumping out of his car and ushering Lance to it. He sat in the passenger seat, not speaking until Donovan asked him if Maggie was all right.

He nodded, his throat tightening each time he tried to swallow.

“You waited for me?” Lance stared out the windshield.

“Yeah, man, I’m your friend. Of course I waited for you.” Donovan put the car in drive and left the parking lot.

With his friend beside him, Lance dropped his face to his hands and broke down, finally feeling the loss of Maggie.

MAGGIE—2010

W
HEN THE DOORBELL
rang three times, right after another, Maggie paused with the coffee cup to her lips. Her pulse shot up in tempo. Only one man would be impatient and arrogant enough to ring a doorbell, not once, but three times. She hadn’t seen him since the night of the fundraiser over two weeks ago, and she hadn’t known when she would see him again.

That night was all they’d allowed themselves to have, and Maggie had reconciled with herself that it would be enough.

She got to her feet and started for the door. She backtracked, set down the coffee mug with fingers that shook, and headed toward the front of the house once more. Fingering her hair, she tugged at her pink sweater, checked to see that no lint was on her charcoal-colored leggings, and took a deep breath before opening the door.

Lance leaned against the doorframe, but the customary grin was gone, eyes like lightning locked on her. His dark hair was swept back, black jacket and blue jeans hugging his frame. It was unbearable how much she’d missed him. Seeing him was cruel, and joyful, and cruel again.

“Hello, Maggie,” he uttered in his deep voice.