Chapter 17 #2
“When did this happen?”
“Last night.”
“Last night?” I gasp. Why didn’t he call me then?
“We were out when she tripped over a curb, poor thing. We iced it and got her comfortable as we waited for the ambulance. She’s a tough cookie, your grandmother. Took it all in her stride.”
I smile despite my worries. That’s Nona. She’s where I get my backbone. “Thanks for being there for her.”
“You know I would do anything for your grandmother,” he replies, which goes way beyond neighborly concern. But I don't have time to unpack that right now. I need to get back to Villadorata, and fast.
I hang up the phone. A warm hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn and look up into Max’s face, tight with worry. “What's happened?”
“My grandmother. She’s hurt and in the hospital back in Villadorata. I-I need to go to her.”
“Of course you do. I'll drive you to the station,” he says. “Rocco, can you and Dante hold the fort here?”
“Sure thing,” Rocco replies.
Max places his arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “You’ll get to her.”
I dash back to my room where I hurriedly throw things into my bag, tearing back down the stairs and out the front door, where the rain that was threatening the sky earlier has now set in full force.
Max and Toffee are already waiting for me in one of the Range Rovers, the engine running, and when I climb into the passenger seat, Toffee immediately climbs onto my lap, trying to lick my cheek.
“I can put her in the back,” Max offers.
I stroke her warm fur, and she reaches up to lick my ear. “No. Actually, she’s comforting.”
The tires spray gravel behind us as he takes off at speed.
“What happened with your grandmother?” he asks as the car burns down the long, winding driveway.
“She fell. My neighbor, Mr. Beckman, thinks she might have broken her ankle last night. She’s in the hospital.”
The windscreen wipers are going at full tilt, and the rain only seems to be getting heavier.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. She means the world to you, doesn’t she?”
My chest tightens. “She does.”
Max turns onto the main road, and we wind our way further down the hill toward Castelvino, where the train brought us only a day ago, perched high in the hills. “In that case, let’s get you to the station as fast as we can.”
“Thank you so much, Max. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course. I only wish I could do more for you.”
“Taking me to catch the train is more than enough.”
What almost happened last night hangs between us, but neither of us mentions it. What would be the point? He must feel rejected, and I feel…well, I feel a lot of things, none of which I can share with him.
Even though having to leave to see my injured grandmother isn’t ideal, at least it’ll give me some much-needed breathing space from him.
He pulls the car into an angled parking space outside the train station in Castelvino.
Its station has a small, rustic platform that clings to the mountainside, with goats grazing nearby.
Max kills the engine, and I hop out, immediately getting drenched by the downpour.
Max materializes at my side holding an umbrella, but it's too late.
I'm pretty sure I’m giving my best impersonation of a drowned rat right now.
“I'll come in with you. Make sure you get on the train okay,” he says over the sound of the rain landing on the car.
“You don't have to.”
“I want to.”
I nod. “All right.”
He holds the umbrella over both our heads as we make our way into the station. The place is empty but for a woman in uniform at a kiosk. I rush over to her.
“Can I please have a ticket for the next train leaving for Villadorata?” I ask, removing my rain-splattered glasses and giving them a quick clean with the edge of my T-shirt.
“I'm not sure when that will be, dear,” she replies, her kindly face lifted in a smile. I notice her name tag says Prunella.
“Isn't there a train timetable?” I ask, confused. This might be a tiny station in the middle of virtually nowhere, but surely, they have scheduled trains.
“There’s flooding on the tracks from this rain, dear. All services are cancelled until it lets up and gets the chance to dry out.”
I gawk at her in disbelief. “But I need to get to Villadorata. It's vital that I get there as soon as I can.”
Her eyes land on Max, who had been collecting my suitcase from his car. “Your Royal Highness,” she says with a grin and an incline of her head.
“Good to see you, Prue,” he replies. “What's happening?”
“There are no trains running at the moment. I was telling your friend here that the tracks are flooded.”
“Surely there's a replacement bus service or something?” I say, panic rising. If I can't get to Villadorata to see Nona, I don't know what I'll do.
“Have you seen the weather? It's raining cats and dogs out there,” she says as though we weren’t aware.
“Buses can drive through the rain,” I retort. “I’ve been on them plenty of times.”
All she does is shake her head. “I'm sorry, dear. You’ll need to wait out the storm. I’m heading home myself shortly.”
Wait out the storm. I can do that. How long can it last?
Resolute, I reply, “In that case I'll wait.”
“All right. I’m closing the kiosk for now. No point being here when there are no trains running.” She pulls the sign that says Closed from behind the kiosk.
“How long before the trains will be running again, do you think, Prue?” Max asks.
“A day or two, sir,” she replies brightly, as though it's no big deal at all. And to her, I’m sure it’s not.
To me? Well, that’s another story altogether.
“Two days?” I repeat, my eyes wide. “I can't wait two days. What am I going to do?”
He places a warm hand over mine. “I'll drive you.”
“All the way to Villadorata?” I ask in shock.
“Of course.”
I look out at the tracks where the rain is still heaving. “But the rain.”
“I've driven through rain before. I'm sure we'll be fine,” he says, his voice so warm and reassuring it makes me want to hug him with gratitude.
That’s the last thing I can allow myself to do.
“What about the program? The kids? You’re needed here, not driving me around the countryside.”
“Rocco and Dante can run the program with their eyes closed. I’ll message them that we've been called away. I can take you to Villadorata and be back here tomorrow.”
To my surprise, my throat heats and tears prick my eyes, and I blink them away.
Spending the next few hours in the car with Max isn’t exactly giving me the space I need right now. But I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say. I have no choice but to take him up on his offer if I want to get to Nona.
“You're so kind. Thank you.” I shiver, my wet clothes clinging to my body.
“You need a change of clothes,” Max says as he takes his jacket off and pulls it around my shoulders, just as he did on the palace balcony that time. It’s warm and smells of him, and my heart squeezes.
“Come on. Let's get going.” He turns to Prunella. “Thank you for your help. Prue. Send my best to Isaac and the kids.”
“I will, sir,” she replies with a smile.
We make our way back outside, and the rain seems to be easing.
“Why don’t you get a change of clothes? You’re a drowned rat.”
I give a shiver, right on cue. “Good idea.”
Like the gentleman he is, Max walks me to the back of the car, holding the umbrella above our heads, where I collect some dry clothes from my suitcase.
“Here, take this.” He offers me his umbrella. “Go back into the station to get changed, and I’ll wait in the car.”
I dart up the steps back inside, find the Ladies’, and then hurriedly peel my damp clothes off.
It's never easy putting dry clothes on when your skin is damp, and I wrestle with my jeans, jumping up and down in the stall, before I finally button them up.
Then, I pull the dry T-shirt over my head.
My hair is damp, so I smooth it back into its ponytail as best I can.
I’m not exactly Instagram-ready, but it’ll have to do.
Climbing into the car, I offer Max something from my suitcase.
He eyes it dubiously. “Why are you giving me a pink sweater?”
“Because it’s a bit and baggy on me and might be the right size for you.”
He seems to think it over for a moment before he reaches behind his head and in one swift move, he removed his top to reveal his impressive torso.
As much as my instinct is to gawk at this total Adonis at my side, I pull my gaze away as he pulls the sweater on.
“How do I look?” he asks, and I turn to see what is ordinarily a super baggy and comfy sweater on me, straining across his broad shoulders and sculpted pecs.
I bite back a smile. “You look so pretty.”
He mimes sweeping his hair from his shoulder. “That’s the look I’m aiming for.”
“Well, you nailed it.”
“At least it’s dry.”
“Dry and pretty,” I correct, and he lets out a low laugh as Toffee climbs back onto my lap, and we begin to head south along the winding, narrow, mountainous road through the drumming rain.
“You’re so kind to do this for me, Max,” I say as the small town gives way to trees.
“I'm not exactly going to leave you to wait for a train that's unlikely to come for two days,” he replies. “And besides, with this rain, there’ll be twenty-odd kids stuck inside back at the house. I’d much rather be here.”
He's only being nice. He would prefer to be working on his passion project with his friends rather than traipsing me halfway across the country, the woman who rejected him only last night.
But the fact of the matter remains: he's here with me now, stuck in this car, going out of his way to take me to my grandmother, and it’s hard not to let that work its way into my heart.
Max reaches for the radio dial. “Would you mind if I put some music on?”
“Sure.”
His arm brushes against mine as he adjusts the volume, and I suck in a breath. The small space of the car seems to amplify everything between us.
Soft music fills the space, a Taylor Swift song I recognize about being in love.
“Toffee looks comfortable,” he says as he eyes the puppy in my lap.
I stroke her fur as she sleeps in my lap, curled up like a warm croissant. “She won’t fit on anyone’s lap soon enough.”
“That won’t stop her trying,” he says with a laugh. “Tell me about your grandmother.”
We pass a petrol station with its lights bright against the rain.
“She’s my rock. She’s always in my corner, no matter what, and I’ve put her through some stuff.”
“Sounds like a story.”
“Just usual teenage rebellion types of things.”
It’s the truth, just not the whole truth.
“You know a lot about me, and we need to address the imbalance.”
“You want me to tell you about myself?”
“Anything and everything.”
I want to. Oh, how I want to talk to him, as in really, really talk, about everything.
About who I am, about my family, about what my life is like, pretending to be someone else.
And most of all, I want to talk to him about the way I feel when he looks at me with heat in his chocolate eyes, the way I’ve got these new, big feelings for the man I once thought was a waste of taxpayers’ money.
The man who’s reached a part of me no one else has.
“Can we do that another time? Like Toffee, I’m tired,” I lie, guilt twisting a knot in my stomach.
“Of course,” he replies.
I’m taking advantage of his kind nature, but what can I do? Tell him who I really am? How his family and mine are connected?
Nope. Never.
I lean my head against the window and close my eyes. I’m hyperaware of every small movement he makes in the driver's seat, turning the wheel, slowing the car to make turns.
“Thank you for doing this, Max. You didn't have to.”
“Yes, I did.”
Something in his voice makes me open my eyes to look at him, but he's focused on the road ahead, his jaw set with an emotion I can't quite read.
As the rain pounds harder against the windshield, I know this journey is going to test every last bit of resolve I have left.