Chapter Thirty-One
A fter I left Max’s room, I walked straight to my bed and face-planted onto it. I smothered a yell into the comforter, half-tempted to beat my arms and legs on the mattress to release the rest of my frustration.
Deciding I was too tired for that, I settled on lying there pathetically instead. Hoping he’d prove me wrong. Hoping what I’d felt between us had been right. The way it felt right.
All the male pheromones had clearly gone to my head, allowing me to believe they’d all be okay with this.
Alone with my thoughts, I settled in for a pity party for one.
But then, the door burst open.
My head shot up from the mattress. I pushed onto my elbows, and my eyes widened when Max stepped into the doorway. His chest heaved as he braced his arms on the frame. Every furious breath came out in a huff, flaring his nostrils.
He stared me down like a bull released in front of a waving red flag. I didn’t much care for that comparison, even if it was self-inflicted.
Trauma and other emotional baggage aside, I wasn’t playing games or stringing him along. I certainly wasn’t using him to keep me warm at night while I waited for anyone else.
Even if he did run hot in his sleep.
He came to stand over me, straddling my feet where they hung off the edge of the bed and trapping my ankles between his legs.
I twisted around to look at him. “What are you doing, Max?”
“Making sure you hear me.”
The tone in his voice softened my accusatory stare.
For all his outward appearance of charging into battle, he wasn’t here to fight. This was important to him, making sure I heard him out. It mattered to him.
I mattered to him.
I had a feeling the delivery might be vaguely insulting, but honestly, that was part of his charm.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Name: Quinn Annette Everly. Birthday: January 30, 2004. Age: 21. Current Year of Study: Junior. Current Program: Dance.”
I froze as he rattled off details from my application.
As he recited it.
Word for fucking word.
“Nickname: None. I hate them.” He rolled his eyes. “Sure you do.”
My cheeks reddened, my eyes dropping to the mattress.
“Aspirations: Pursuing a career in dance so I can spend my future happily doing what I love.”
He’d already found that lie, the one I hadn’t faced before I’d filled out my application. From the way he paused after he recited it, that was the point of this exercise.
And he was nowhere near finished.
He launched into the rest of the application, leaving out only the things that were inarguably true, like my favorite movie, book, and TV show.
My accident.
The whole time he’d known.
“Hobbies/Extracurricular Activities…Let’s just skim to the good stuff since most of this applies.” He snorted, flipping open a folder he’d tucked under his arm. “Here it is. I enjoy exercising daily and eating healthy.”
“Hey! Dance is exercise, and I do still enjoy it, even if it doesn’t make me happy enough to pursue it as a career. And I do try to eat healthy!”
“Sure, pancake. Let’s keep going.” He tapped the bottom of the application. “Ideal Marriage.”
My mouth snapped shut, and whatever argument I’d intended to make about his flippant disregard for my healthy eating flew out of my brain.
This was what he’d been building toward—the point he wanted to make.
Holding my gaze, the hardness he’d exuded through most of this softened. He gentled his tone at the mention of my parents.
“I want a true partnership, exactly like my parents had. Someone to stand by my side through life’s ups and downs.”
My heart ached as he echoed words I’d written about my mom and dad. The example they’d set for me stayed long after my mom died. My dad refused to remarry or even consider the idea of dating again.
Even when all he’d had left was a snarky, temperamental teenager who dealt with grief by avoiding it completely.
He’d lost his partner. He’d lost the person by his side, and I’d wanted more than that for him. A life spent making lemonade out of lemons.
But somehow, all he’d felt was grateful. That he’d had the chance to love her in the first place. That they’d shared a life—a daughter. And that he’d had the chance to keep pursuing their dreams in her memory.
I understood the value in it, even as it broke my heart for him.
“That’s not a lie, Max. I do still want what they had.”
At the same time, I wanted more.
And some days, I wanted nothing…Some days, the only thing I was sure of was that love meant loss. Initially, I hadn’t thought I deserved it.
Now, even in the moments when I wanted more, I struggled to believe I’d be able to have it.
Or hold onto it.
Life—the whole world—seemed hellbent on ripping whatever I loved away from me. Because of that, there were some things I’d been holding onto fiercely. The idea of voluntarily letting go of even one connection to my parents felt like losing them all over again. That truth hurt so much I never even faced it.
But it wasn’t only them.
There were memories I clung to that I hadn’t been able to admit to anyone. Except Gia, once, with a promise to never speak of it again.
Someone who had claimed a piece of my heart, even though I’d been trying to deny what we had shared. One moment I’d barely let myself think about.
I’d been holding onto it because once I let it go, it felt like it wouldn’t belong to me anymore. It wouldn’t be mine…
And neither would he.
While my dad had been grateful for what he and my mom shared and able to move forward without it, I wasn’t like him in that regard. I couldn’t lose more. Not what we shared or that part of myself I’d given to him. I couldn’t let the world, especially this world, take anything else.
I wanted what had already been taken from me. From us.
And I wanted more .
But I couldn’t figure out if Max was saying all this because he understood that or still didn’t get it. Because as he watched me quietly, the look in his eyes reiterated that all he wanted was me.
If that was his truth, how could I accept it and honor mine?
Max uncrossed his arms, his posture softening as he watched me go back and forth in my head. “I’ll share mine, if you share yours.”
As tears burned my eyes, I shook my head and hid my face. I buried it in the mattress, my lip trembling. I bit down on it as hard as I could.
Max sighed. “You’re not an idea in my head. When this started, sure. I tried to convince myself that’s all you were. Pretended I’d been wrong about you. I wanted to protect myself, and that made it hard for you to find solid ground with me. I get that that’s on me. But I’m done lying to myself. I told you that. Even knowing what I stand to lose, I’m ready to move forward, Princess. And I’m not sure that you are.”
He released my legs and walked back to his door. I sat up, staring after him but still unable to face what he admitted. So, when he turned back, I dropped my head.
“I know all this scares you. I get why it’s easier for you if I’m the asshole who doesn’t get you. Doesn’t see…But you’re not an idea in my head. I’m one in yours. And it’s wrong.”
A tear slid down my cheek and hit the bedspread, and Max’s defeated sigh assured me he’d seen it, too.
He opened his room door, speaking softly one last time before he walked inside.
“I deserve more than that, too.”