34. Chapter 34
thirty-four
T he smell was the first thing that hit Max as he walked through the door of the holistic healing centre.
It was some weird musky scent he was sure was supposed to heal him of every ailment under the sun and restore his balance or whatever. Unfortunately, Max quickly realized the smell wouldn’t be the most uncomfortable thing about the place.
“Welcome, and thank you for joining us this evening,” a girl said from behind the counter, steepling her hands and bowing her head.
“Uh, hi,” he said.
Should he bow back?
She looked him up and down, then leaned over the counter, tipping her head to the side and batting her eyelashes. “Are you here for the ethereal frequencies sound bath meditation or the emotional release aromatherapy?”
What?
“Uh . . .”
He searched his memory for the conversation with Luis. He’d said it was something about sound, right? Fuck. It could’ve been a smell thing.
“I’m not really sure.”
“That’s okay,” she said, coming from behind the counter and stalking toward him. “I can give you an overview of both, and you can see which one speaks to your quantum energy.”
Okay, he was definitely out of there.
He had just started backing away, formulating a half-assed excuse, when the door chimed behind him and a fresh breeze wafted in, relieving the air of its stink for a moment.
“Max?”
He spun around and found Jer walking through the door. He never thought he’d be so happy to see the guy.
“Jer!”
Jer’s expression went from shock to fright in an instant. “Uh, hi?”
The hippy girl glanced between the two of them, then seemed to have a realization. “Oh, Jer, is this your new boyfriend? ”
Max smiled, then turned to Jer and wagged his eyebrows. That was one good way to stop her from speaking to his inner self or whatever the fuck.
Jer turned his nose up and placed his hand over his heart. “As fucking if.”
“What the hell, Jer?” Max asked, as if he’d just slapped him.
Jer rolled his eyes. “This guy thinks he’s my boss and can tell me what to do, but he’s not,” he said, then looked away and muttered, “and now he’s here. In my happy place. Annoying me.”
Max cringed. “I came to apologize.”
Jer raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side.
“I’m serious. Can we please just talk before you”—he waved behind him in the general direction of all the woo crap of the place—“do whatever.”
Jer stuck his chin in the air. “No,” he said, brushing past him.
Max waited for a moment, the silence stretching between them as he desperately hoped Jer would reconsider. But as the seconds ticked by, it became painfully clear that Jer’s decision was final.
He gave a defeated nod and turned to leave, but Jer’s voice stopped him.
“I guess you can join me in the sound bath,” he said .
Max stared slack-jawed as Jer tapped his card on the debit machine, brushed past, and sauntered through a door behind the counter.
Sound bath?
He let out a sigh and pulled out his wallet. How bad could it be?
“That’ll be thirty dollars,” the hippy girl said. “And it includes your yoga mat, pillow, and sleep mask.”
“Sleep mask?”
Hippy girl smiled and nodded.
He tapped his card, took the armload of stuff, and followed Jer’s footsteps.
The door led into a dim studio that was lit only with bunches of candles around the perimeter of the room. In the centre was a selection of weird bowls and mallets on a blanket, and fanning out from the centre were people lying on yoga mats with sleep masks on.
Max located Jer and went toward him, rolling out his mat and lying down beside him.
“I’m glad you came in,” Jer said.
Max stopped and stared at the bottom half of his face. “How did you know it was me?”
“You have a very draining energy,” he said in a calm, yet sarcastic, voice. “I can feel you coming from a mile away. ”
Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what that means,” he said as he sat down beside Jer and debated the sleep mask.
“Just put it on, and let this happen.”
Max cocked an eyebrow. “That’s exactly what robbers say before taking hostages.”
Jer sucked in a deep breath. “See? Draining.”
A man in white monk’s robes walked in and took his place in the middle of the bowls. “Masks on, please.”
With a suppressed eye roll, Max placed the mask on his face and lay back on the mat, adjusting the pillow under his head. As much as he hated to admit, it was relaxing to take a bit of time out to just lie there doing nothing.
The monk began tapping the bowls, and although he put up some resistance, eventually, he fell into a deeply peaceful state. So deeply peaceful that he lost track of time and forgot why he was even there.
“Okay, everyone,” the monk guy said in a soft voice.
Max’s trance broke with the sound of his voice, and he shook his head, pissed that it was over. That couldn’t have been the forty-five minutes he’d paid for.
“We’re all done for this session. Thank you for coming. ”
Max sat up and pulled off his sleep mask and checked his watch. He felt drugged.
“Feel better?” Jer asked.
Max shrugged. “Actually, yes,” he said, rolling his neck. He probably hadn’t felt that calm in . . . well, maybe never.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s get a green tea and talk.”
Jer stood and gathered his things, and Max followed suit, keeping his mouth shut when it tried to open out of habit and suggest they go out for a good drink instead.
He followed Jer out of the studio to the front desk, where he poured two glasses of iced green tea from a glass drink dispenser before leading Max to a small table and chairs near a water fountain.
Jer passed him a glass, then took a drink, followed by a heavy sigh. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I’m sorry for how I treated you. And that I tried to stop Willow from hiring you.”
Jer froze. “You tried to stop her from hiring me?”
Max cringed. “I thought you knew about that.”
Jer visibly struggled for calm as he sipped his tea.
“I’m sorry for sending that email to you. It was a dick move. I was angry and took it out on you.”
Jer shook his head and looked down. “I’m still so mad at myself over that. Willow took the blame, but it was all my fault,” he said.
“Everyone makes mistakes,” he said, thinking back to all the thoughtless shit he’d done over the last few weeks.
“Thanks,” Jer said with a shrug. “I didn’t really care that you’d acted like an asshole. Honestly, I expected it out of someone like you,” he said.
Max let it show on his face how bad that stung. Normally, he wouldn’t have, but what was the point in guarding his feelings now?
“Sorry,” Jer said. “I know it’s a high-stress situation, but you seem like the type that holds everyone to a standard of perfection.”
Max swallowed against the lump in his throat.
“I just really hate that I let Willow down and made her doubt herself.”
“I know how you feel,” Max said, sipping from his cup and suppressing a shudder. “I was pissed about her wanting to go back for her friend’s wedding instead of opening the brewery, and I feel like a huge dick about it now.”
Jer glanced up at him and held his gaze for a moment. “I actually agreed with you. About her not going back there.”
Max’s eyebrows shot up. “You agreed with me?”
“Don’t get used to it,” he said with a smile. “I think she struggles with decisions because she’s a textbook people pleaser. And she has some weird Stockholm Syndrome thing going on with those people. She’s so used to being everything for them that she’s lost sight of what she wants.”
Max nodded.
“For what it’s worth,” Jer continued, “I think you’re actually good for her, in a way. You can be a controlling asshole, but at least you don’t hold her back from what she wants, like Shane.”
“Thanks,” he said, choosing to focus on the good in his backhanded compliment. “I think I’m good for her, too, but I can be better.”
“I heard you want to move the opening back.”
“You heard that from Willow?”
“Yeah.”
His shoulders slumped. “So she got my text.”
Jer nodded. “I wouldn’t hold my breath for a reply. She’s pissed.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I just hope she comes back for the opening. She deserves to see it come together.”
Jer nodded. “You’re not gonna try to convince her to stay if she comes back?”
Max shook his head. “I’m going to throw the ball in her court and hope for the best.”
He fucking hated feeling so . . . vulnerable. But he supposed that’s what loving someone felt like.
“Sports metaphors never make sense,” Jer said, shaking his head. “If you’re putting the ball in her court, does that mean she’s not on your team? Are you hoping she scores on you? Or are you hoping she fails? And aren’t both things bad if what you want is for her to be with you?”
Max thought about it for a minute. “You’re right,” he said with a laugh. “That makes no sense.”
They hung out for a while longer and finished the gross tea, and Max had to admit, he’d been wrong about Jer. The guy was actually cool. And his weird hippy crap was actually really pleasant.