12. Max
TWELVE
MAX
“Where did you learn all this stuff?”
Watching Rosy in her element is fucking hot. She moves with so much confidence around animals, compared to interacting with people. It’s so endearing, and whilst I love teasing her, watching this side of her has both my pulse thrumming and my cock twitching.
A familiar blush rises to cover her cheeks; the self-assured Rosy taking a back seat now that her attention isn’t fixed on Moshi any longer.
She ducks her head to focus on our joined hands.
“Oh, just learning from animal behaviourists and spending time watching their body language, really. I would love to study and become a qualified cat behaviourist too, but that takes both time and money… Neither of which I have an abundance of at the moment,” she responds with a half-hearted chuckle and a shrug of her shoulders.
“Fuck, well, you honestly impressed me. Plus, I’ll help out as much as I can at the farm; maybe that can give you some more time,” I promise. It feels all too easy to offer her the commitment.
It feels strange to want to be a part of someone else’s life, other than the guys, but I can’t deny the clawing need to make Rosy smile and take away the heavy weight she seems to carry.
“It was fun having you there. The days can be pretty long and not always great if the weather isn’t nice.
So you’re welcome to come and help out any time; plus, I think Gilly and Mabel will miss you if you don’t visit.
” She snorts, nibbling her lip to try to contain the laughter I know she’s fighting to hold back.
Cheeky Rosy.
“Those two? I thought you were going to let them eat me. I was hurt.” I clasp our joined hands to my chest, the move tugging her closer so I can see each lash framing her eyes; they aren’t the pale blue I’d originally thought but instead a startling grey.
My focus drops down to a small cluster of freckles across her nose, and without thinking, I swipe my tongue across them.
Rearing back, Rosy exclaims, “Eww, Max.” Her biteable nose crinkles in protest, and she drops my hands, wiping the saliva off before wiping it on me. “Here, take it back.”
“I don’t have cooties. You just looked so cute, and I wanted a taste.” I shrug, not seeing the issue.
“You can’t just lick things or people willy-nilly.” She gestures, her eyes wide.
Sniggering at her, I lean back in. “Willy-nilly? Are you an 80-year-old woman in disguise?” I peer closely at her before reaching out with my hands and squeezing her cheeks. “This is a pretty good prosthetic job, Grandma,” I tease, giving her a soft wink.
“What? No! Are you always this exasperating?” Her eyes roll, and a small smile tries to break free. Obviously, I need to try harder if she can hold it back. She’s beautiful when she laughs, and I want all of her laughs.
“Always,” I promise. “It makes life more fun. Plus, it’s dangerous to hold in smiles and laughs.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s sneezes,” she quips, squinting at me.
“Well, either way, we should just let it all out.” I boop her lightly on the nose, lingering slightly at the feel of her soft skin.
A dubious expression is her only response. Then she turns her focus back to Moshi. It’s hard not to notice the loss of her attention.
Reaching into a different box, Rosy plucks out a long plastic stick with a bunch of feathers hanging off the end.
Holding on to one end, she sweeps the feathered part towards Moshi, then bobs it around from side to side.
Sharp eyes latch onto the toy, and his pupils dilate as his head tracks the feathered end.
Rosy quickens her movements, before she flicks it close to him.
A tiny paw snaps out, attempting to grab hold of the feathers.
She giggles, before turning to me, her bright gaze locking on mine.
“Fancy having a go?” She grins, holding the stick out for me to take. Our hands brush as I accept it.
“Definitely. I love frolicking and playing.” My voice drops, despite trying my best to keep the tone even.
Her head tips down as she snickers, her shoulders vibrating with the sound. “Who’s the 80-year-old now? No one says frolicking, you weirdo.” She playfully slaps my arm.
“But you like me weird.”
Her head lowers, and she stares at the hands fidgeting on her lap. “Fine, yes, I do. It feels easier to be myself around you. Maybe it’s your weird calling to mine,” she murmurs. Her embarrassment tugs at me and makes me feel all sorts of tingly shit.
“I like your weird too,” I admit, the confession feeling heavy and potent as she glances back up at me, a smile gracing her pretty lips.
I clear my throat, wanting to break the bubble surrounding us, and turn my focus back to the kitten, letting myself get distracted by keeping him entertained.
After some time, Rosy reaches over, grabs her phone from the bedside table behind us, and glances at it.
“We should go. It’s been almost an hour, and I don’t want to be rude and have us delay dinner.” She sighs, and my stomach chooses that moment to rumble. Raising an eyebrow, she glances down at my middle. “I’ll take that as an agreement.”
“I enjoyed hanging out. I didn’t even realise the time. Fuck, and it’s pizza night.” I groan, my eyes falling closed as I think about the cheesy pepperoni feast waiting for me. “Okay, muffin top. Let’s go eat.”
Standing, I offer my hand down to help her up, taking a moment to enjoy her on her knees in front of me. She grasps my hand and hauls herself up before I can linger over the sight. Good thing I took a mental photo, because that vision of her was fucking hot.
“No to that nickname, yes to the food,” she mutters, quickly putting the toys back into the box, then sliding it under her bed.
“What? But the muffin tops are the tastiest bit. Fine, I’ll think of another one.” A frown tugs at my face, as she straightens and nudges me.
I step through the doorway and wait for her to close it.
As she goes to walk past, I reach out and wrap a hand around her arm, tugging her to face me.
My hands slide up her arms, and I squeeze her shoulders gently.
“I meant what I said before: you’re really good with Moshi and all the other animals too.
I really think you should pursue it. We can all help somehow. Noah’s good at this sort of thing.”
Her pale eyes search mine, trying to see where the joke is, but this time I don’t have any. She’s truly special at this; her obvious care and passion shine through every time she’s around the animals.
She swallows roughly, eyes shining with moisture. “Thank you, Max. It means a lot that you mean that…I think? But unfortunately, it doesn’t pay the bills.” A sad smile graces her lips, and my body sways as the overwhelming urge to kiss away her sadness glides through me.
Stepping back, she turns and walks across the room to the front door, pausing to wait for me.
But my body feels stuck, while my mind races in some bullshit panic.
What am I doing?
Initially, I thought she was cute; why not have a bit of fun together, then I could move on.
Not sticking around for anything more than that, the usual.
But spending time together has changed that.
I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, and I know she wouldn’t be interested in some quick, but mind-blowing, one night stand.
When I introduced her to the guys, I thought perhaps one of them would want to date her, and I could just be a friend.
I don’t know where we are now, though. This feels like some fuzzy, unfamiliar territory, and it has my heart pounding.
My long-broken, buried down deep, heart.
I don’t do feelings, and that’s what this is scarily feeling like.
“Max? Are you coming?” she calls, tugging me from my spiralling thoughts.
Jogging, I catch up and follow her out the door to our flat. But it feels like I’m adrift, there but not quite there.
Instead, I’m nosediving into a past I’ve been trying to forget.
Five years ago
I unlock my car and jump in, laying the flowers and gift bag on the passenger seat next to me.
I’m eager to get home and see my girl. When I left for work this morning, she was still asleep, and I didn’t want to wake her.
But I’d arranged with my boss to leave a bit early, so I could go home and surprise my fiancée for our anniversary.
We’ve been together for five years now, and I can’t imagine my life without her in it.
Fuck, I know I’m punching, but thankfully, she loves me anyway.
I turn into the driveway of our maisonette and frown. Her car boot is wide open. Stepping out of the car, I take a quick look inside her boot. It’s stacked full of bags and suitcases.
“Hey, babe? Are we going somewhere?” My voice rings out as I walk through the open front door. “Did you book a surprise anniversary trip? Fuck, I love it. Is it somewhere with hot bikini weather?”
Chucking my keys into the dish on the side, I toe off my shoes and continue on through the house, reaching our bedroom.
“Babe? What’s all this? Where are we going?” The room’s a mess. Clothes and items are packed in various bags and strewn across the bed and floor.
Becka freezes, her hands halting midway through shoving a pair of shoes into a holdall on the bed. She doesn’t look my way. “Shit, Max. I thought I could do this before you got home.”
Her grip on her shoes tightens, and they creak.
“Do what? I’m confused right now. Is everything okay?” I reach out to touch her, but she pulls away, drawing the shoes up to her chest as a barrier between us.
Raising my hands placatingly, I try to push down the panic rising inside me, wanting to keep calm and not make things worse.
“Don’t, Max. I just…I need you to not. This is me leaving you." Her words keep coming, but my mind cuts out, stuck on those last three words.
She’s leaving?
I don’t understand. It’s been us for years. We’re each other’s person. The words echo around in my head as I stare at her. Her mouth’s still moving, but nothing computes.
“Max? Are you even listening? I didn’t want you to be here to see this.
But I can’t do this anymore. Do you understand?
I need more in my life. I don’t want to live here in some small, dingy house whilst you come home every night smelling of building sites and covered in dirt.
” She gestures at me, and I glance down at my dusty trousers and T-shirt.
“I want a nice house, a corporate husband, and kids.”
Throwing the shoes into the bag, she turns back around and grabs another pair.
“You do? Shit, babe. You’ve never said all that before. What do you want me to do to change? To help make you happy?” I beg, desperate to somehow do something to make things right. She adds another pair of shoes, and I quickly remove and hide them in the open drawer behind me.
“Max.” She sighs. “Stop it. Taking my stuff won’t stop me leaving.
Stop being childish. You need to grow up and stop trying to be funny all the time.
I never said anything because it’s not who you are.
Let’s face it, you don’t do serious, so there was never any point in telling you.
I had hoped you would grow up as we got older, and with us getting engaged.
But you just haven’t changed.” She shrugs.
How can she end this so easily?
“That’s it? You’re done with us, with me?” My words are a whisper, choked by all the emotions I didn’t realise I could feel. Should I be able to feel my heart break?
Glancing down at my hands, I see that they aren’t crumbling to pieces. It apparently just feels as though I’m fracturing and falling apart.
She huffs as she zips the bag, then picks it up and turns to me. “I was done a while ago, Max. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
Ragged pain slices through my chest, and I swallow hard.
Brushing past, Becka walks out the door, pausing to say, “I’ll message you to arrange collecting the rest of my stuff when you’re not here.” Then she continues down the stairs and out of my life.
A sharp pain radiates through my ear, dragging me back. “Ow, what the fuck?” I flinch, rubbing at the injured skin.
“You were just standing there daydreaming.” Nate shrugs, walking away and joining the others as they all grab a seat in the living area, the coffee table in the middle full of the different pizzas Bry made.
“Couldn’t you at least have been gentle about it, rather than use your giant bear hands? A hug would be nice,” I grumble, dropping onto one of the sofas.
Nate doesn’t even look my way. He grabs a plate, loads it up, then hands it to Rosy, as she sits beside him on the two seater. “I could’ve.”
Lifting a plate from the pile available, I slide a few slices of pizza onto it, then bite into one. My body continues on autopilot, going through the motions of chewing and swallowing.
My mind drifts, distracted by flashbacks of that time in my life I try to pretend doesn’t exist. Without Nate and the guys, I’m not sure where I would’ve been.
When I hadn’t returned to work for the rest of the week, Nate turned up, hammering on the door to let him in, then when I’d answered it unwashed and drunk, he’d pushed his way in, packed up a bag, then hauled me out of there.
I’ve never stepped foot in that house since.
I nursed my fractured heart here, more drunk than sober, whilst they’d all gone and packed up the place for me.
Those days feel so distant now, and most of the time I rarely think of them, too determined to live in the moment, in the now.
But since having Rosy in our lives, the wall protecting what’s left of me is crumbling.
She’s starting to make me feel again.