Chapter 4
Four
Flynn
I stand there, unmoving, for a moment, staring at the door that was just slammed in my face. My eyes blink rapidly as my brain tries to process what just happened and what it means.
Not only is Max in the room next to mine, the rooms are connected.
Great.
Closing the door on my side softly, I turn the deadbolt to lock it before turning to lean back against it with a quiet sigh. It’s bad enough that she’s here, and I’ll be seeing her at meals and group events. But with her right next door? I’ll be seeing her in the hallway as we come and go. Hearing her as she tinkers around in her room.
Knowing she’s so close, yet completely out of reach.
I shake my head to clear that looney tunes thought and push myself away from the door. It doesn’t matter how close or far away she is. I couldn’t possibly care any less.
Max Nolan nearly cost me everything.
I attempt to push her out of my mind as I start to unpack, but memories flit in like flies through an open screen door. Annoying, yet inevitable.
Max, Milo, and I at our favorite bar, drinking beers and shooting darts while tossing playful insults at each other. We laughed until our sides hurt, drank until we were pleasantly tipsy, then walked back to campus, Max between Milo and me with our arms interlocked.
Late-night study sessions with greasy snacks and sugary sodas.
Scrabble tournaments.
Weekends at the beach.
Family dinners at the Nolan house every other Sunday. Max and Milo’s parents always insisted I come, that the invite was because they loved me and not because I had nowhere else to go.
They did consider me family. And it was for that reason I resisted my attraction to Max all those years. I didn’t want to mess it up. I didn’t want to lose what I’d found.
The night she kissed me, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. But it quickly turned to hell when Milo woke up from his little whiskey nap and lost his shit when he saw his twin sister straddling my lap on the couch next to him.
It was stupid, surrendering to the fantasy the way I did. I knew better, and I can’t even blame the alcohol in my system for the mistakes I made that night.
I never should’ve let that kiss happen in the first place. I knew Max had been drinking. That she wasn’t herself. I’d just wanted it so badly for so long, I couldn’t resist one little taste. In my defense, I did stop her. The streak of pain in her expression at that moment nearly killed me, but before I could explain, before I could tell her I only wanted to wait until she was completely sober and to make sure it was what she really wanted, Milo woke up and all hell broke loose.
He leapt to his feet and yanked his sister off my lap before dragging her out of the room. Once Max was out of sight, what I’d done hit home and the panic set in. I started pacing, my mind buzzing with alcohol and fear as I waited for Milo to return to our room.
And when he did? He cold-cocked me before I blurted out words that held no meaning or truth. I was drunk. It was a mistake. The biggest blunder of my life. I was sorry it happened. I’d never let it happen again. I promised it was a one-off. I swore I didn’t even find her attractive. I vowed, on everything I held dear, that I was only trying to let her down gently when she climbed on my lap and kissed me of her own volition.
I said whatever I could to erase the anger and disappointment from Milo’s eyes, because he and his family were my family, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing them.
Milo was angrier than I’ve ever seen him before or since, and I’ll never forget how his words stabbed into my chest when he told me what Max had said about the encounter.
That it was a big joke. A ploy to rile Milo up. It was revenge for some trivial thing he’d done to piss her off earlier in the day.
Of course, she’d had no idea how I felt about her, so her actions may not have been intentionally cruel, but they speared me just the same. Milo’s anger dissipated when he saw how defeated I was, and his tone softened as he told me––in not so many words––to never touch his sister again.
Things were never the same after that. Max and I avoided each other as much as possible. I stopped going to family dinners, and she stopped coming to the bar with Milo and me. I lost her friendship, but I still had Milo’s.
And I decided that was enough.
Once I finish hanging my clothes in the closet and shove my suitcase beneath the bed so it will be out of the way, I walk over to the window. The view is spectacular. A blanket of thick, green grass flows out from the mansion all the way to the beach. Beyond the sand is beautiful blue water as far as the eye can see.
I wonder how long Max stood at her own window, staring at the ocean like this. She always loved watching the waves roll in.
Rubbing a palm down my face, I move away from the window and head into the bathroom to freshen up. I need to stop thinking about Max. I’m here for one reason––to convince Barnard Roxberry I’m the best person for the job. That I am perfectly suited to write his biography and a better choice than the others…including Max Nolan.
It’s almost time for dinner, so I head out, locking the door behind me. The hallway is empty, and when I pause beside Max’s door, I don’t hear any noises coming from behind it. Realizing I look like a creeper, I quickly straighten and make my way down the long hall.
When I get to the top of the stairs, an angry blonde stomps toward me from the opposite direction and elbows me out of the way. It’s Katelynn Mars, the lifestyle blogger, and she doesn’t look happy as she marches down the stairs, her rolling suitcase thumping against each step behind her.
That’s weird.
I shake my head and skip down the staircase on light feet. As I reach the bottom, I hear Katelynn berating a valet as he loads her luggage into the back of a standard-sized golf cart. I guess she’s leaving.
The valet steps back inside, closes the door behind him with a quiet sigh, then straightens when he notices me watching.
“The dining room is this way, Mr. Nightingale,” he says, formally holding an arm out to his right.
“Thank you,” I reply, dying to ask him what’s going on with Katelynn, but knowing I can’t.
Questions about Barnard, his life, this house, or any of the guests here are strictly forbidden. I can’t risk it.
The doors to the dining room are standing open, but I freeze on the threshold. Max, in a dark green slinky dress with her long, red hair hanging in fat waves down her back, is already here. I watch as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and studies the place cards on the table, probably looking for her name.
She looks…good. Really good.
I swallow past the lump in my throat as she starts to turn toward me, and I step inside the room before she catches me just standing there, staring.
And when her amber eyes meet mine, I freeze again. Gathering my wits, I cross my arms over my chest and feign nonchalance to the best of my ability.
“Hello, Max.”