Page 119 of Maximus

“Hm… you think you have it in you to render me unable to walk?”

I didn’t bother to answer her ridiculous taunt—she knew I was more than capable of leaving her a quivering mess.

“So what’s this about a job?”

“What about it?”

Eva’s hands moved down my neck as she sat straight, grazing my throat. And when her palms rested on my chest, I had to summon all my concentration in order to finish this conversation that at the moment seemed seriously fucking unimportant.

“You’re looking for a job?”

“Of course I am. I need to work.”

“What about the boys?”

Eva’s brows knitted together, clearly perplexed.

“Liam will be in school and Elijah will go to daycare. I managed to save some money, but only enough to float me for a month or two, depending on what the rent is on this place.”

“You’re not paying rent.”

As she stared down at me, her features sharpened even more and I braced for her response. Gauging her new look, it was going to piss me off.

“Yeah, Max, I am. I pay my way.”

“Not anymore.”

Jesus Christ, Eva transformed right in front of my eyes. Her entire body stiffened—her once-lax thighs resting near mine had gone solid and she looked like she was ready to come out of her skin.

“Don’t do this,” she muttered.

“Do what?”

“Force me to rely on you.”

“What the fuck?” Every good feeling I’d had minutes ago fled in a rush of fury. “I hope to Christ, you’re not comparing me to your asshole ex.”

“I’m not. I know you are nothing like him. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. You’re the only person that has ever made me feel cared for. You make me feel protected in every way. Not just physically safe from harm, but I know you’ll guard my heart, you won’t let anything hurt me—or the boys. But that doesn’t mean that you telling me that I can’t work isn’t a huge trigger for me. I have to know I can support myself. I have to know I can contribute in some way—even if it’s only paying half the rent and buying groceries. But I have to do it. This is important to me, Max. Please don’t do this to us. Don’t strip me of my self-worth and make me beholden to you.”

Fucking shit, if the panic in her eyes hadn’t already gutted me, the tears would’ve.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do. I want to take care of you. If it’s about money, I have—”

“It is, but it isn’t. Yes, I want to make my own money, but it’s more than that. I need to feel like I have value, like I’m important, like I’m worth something.”

“Christ, honey, you’re worth everything.”

“Then prove you feel that way and don’t ask me to sit around while you pay for everything.”

My stomach clenched as I tried to find a way to navigate the minefield she’d laid.

“Can we compromise?”

“Honestly, it depends.”

“Fair enough. What if I cover the rent until you get on your feet? I don’t want you draining your savings. And this house is expensive, half the rent would be more than you were paying in Florida. Can we agree on a quarter? I’ll cover utilities and kick in for food. And before you argue, remember you’re used to only feeding yourself and two small children. You want to contribute, I get it, but I don’t want you taking a financial hit because of me.”

“But you get to take the hit for me?”