“After a few years passed I thought it might be too hard to have me back in your lives. Where would I fit? I didn’t know if you had a new daddy, or if you hated me, or even remembered who I was.”
“Jesus Christ, of course I remembered you! You’re my dad!”
“I was your dad, but I was never much of a parent. Hell, I’d probably rather you didn’t remember what you do about me. Can’t none of it be too great.”
I don’t bother objecting. He’s right.
“Regret and fear walk the same tight rope. You avoid the situation so you won’t have to deal with the possibility of failing, but with that you risk never getting resolution. Those could bes just clang around in your mind and your heart, eating at you until you feel you’ve sold your soul, all so you could keep a moment of your pride and skip having to subject yourself to looking like an idiot.” He sighs, and clamps a hand to the arm of his chair as he leans forward.
“I’ll tell you this much, if there’s anything that I’ve learned over the last thirteen years, it’s that pride and fear are in no way worth what they’ll take from you.”
He stands up and I watch him look up at the sky, and follow his gaze. “I came over to tell you that I’m going to be heading to Arizona tomorrow. I’m going to go meet Billy and Hank for some dinner. I plan on being back in a week, but might stay a little longer. It depends on how things go.”
I nod a couple of times, shocked to hear that Billy’s agreed to meet him.
“I love you, Son.”
My jaw clenches and I nod once again before I hear him make his way back inside.
It’s been a week since the washing machine incident, and I still haven’t reached out to Erin nor heard from her. I lift my phone and slowly trace my thumb across the screen:
Me: Hey, sry I hvnt called. Theres a lot going on right now. Maybe we can C how things r in a couple of wks.
She doesn’t reply. I don’t expect her to.
Jenny comes out to the backyard where I’m testing a sample of the hot tub’s water and smiles at me.
“Hey,” she calls warmly.
I lift my chin to her without moving my attention from the small vial in front of me.
“How are you doing?”
I nod a few times, hoping she’ll stop trying to talk to me. Having the sisters become more and more comfortable with stopping by announced or not is one of the biggest points against Kendall still.
“I have something to tell you, Max.”
I hate the fact that my heart works vigorously to allow hope back in as I glance as her face. I swallow and it’s audible as my eyes travel over her face that looks anxious with nerves and excitement.
“Ace is coming for the wedding next week. She’ll be staying with Mindi and Kyle, but I want you to know that she’ll be here. I felt bad about no one telling you about Christmas. She seems better and I think that—”
“It’s over. You know that.”
Her lips press together as she looks at me. “I do, but I still think you two should clear the air. The whole family loves you, Max. It would be nice to see you again, and I really hope that you still come to the wedding. It would mean a lot to both Adam and me.”
I don’t bother giving her false hope or promises that we both know I can’t keep. I have no intention of going to the wedding.
I want to ask if she’s bringing him, Danny Hirsch, with her, but the words won’t seem to form because my heart refuses to hear the answer.
I turn off my truck and idly wonder if Landon will be waiting for me on the other side of the door. I don’t allow the thought to slow me down. Approaching the door without Zeus on my heels makes things a little more real for me. I knew if I brought him, he’d go crazy and wake her up, and right now, I need to go in without him making a scene so I can just see her. I left him at my mom’s, where I’m supposed to be staying for the next two weeks. My dad offered me his spare room, but I’m still not ready to be that close to him. I’m sure I could have crashed at Wes’s or Erin’s, since two days after texting her, she showed up at the house acting as though nothing ever happened, but I wasn’t about to. Wes’s roommate makes me want to punch him on a regular basis, and Erin would likely read too much into things. Plus, I can’t see her right now. Once again my mind plagued by her, and it’s a constant battle to not reveal it.
The lock quietly clicks free and I push the door open, hearing nothing but the erratic beating of my heart. The house is dark but so is outside, so I’m able to make out shadows to get across the living room without running into anything. I stop beside the chair that sits next to the couch and grip the back of it. I feel like I need its support to keep me upright, or to feel something so I know this moment is real. Or maybe to keep myself from touching her, because every cell in my body is reacting to her presence.
Emotions rage inside of me like an aggressive tide, filling me with anger, resentment, frustration, lust, fear, and a million more that I don’t bother to identify. I hate that I still feel so much for her, that she can cause this strong of a reaction from me.
Her hair’s longer than I’ve ever seen it, and her skin lighter, yet just like seeing her on TV during that match, I recognize everything about her, even these new, unfamiliar details. Her cheeks aren’t as hollow and her arms don’t look so angular, but she still looks too thin.
She also looks beautiful.
She takes a deep breath and my body freezes, each muscle flexing as I prepare for her to open her eyes and find me staring at her. She wiggles, her hand pulling on the blanket covering her, but her eyes remain shut, and soon her lungs being to pull normal breaths again. I release a deep sigh and feel my heart slowly work to even out.
I stare at her for long moments, recalling so many memories, and then no thoughts whatsoever as I realize I need to get the hell out of here when she resituates once again, pulling the blanket free from her feet this time. I grab a throw blanket from the back of the chair and catch sight of her suitcases on the floor. The image of them sends a tremor of pain through me. She’s here, sleeping on my couch. She is so close, and yet so fucking far away that it makes me feel crazy. A blue shirt sits on the top of one of her suitcases, folded in half lengthwise. I remember too many details of her. I know that having the shirt folded like this indicates it’s dirty.
My hand swipes down and fists the shirt before I can consider why I’m wasting the time, and I smell the scent of her with the slight stir of the air. The fabric is cool and silky beneath my fingers, and my heart once again feels like it’s beating too fast.
I silently edge closer to the couch and drape the additional blanket over her and freeze as she rolls back toward me.
Read other books by Mariah Dietz
To be Continued in
His Series, Book Three
June 1, 2015
It’s hard for me to believe that book two is being published! There are so many people that have contributed time, patience, understanding, love, and so much support to me over the last year and half while these books were written, and I can’t thank you all enough.