24
Everyone Loves Billy
Mitch
My fingers have taken it upon themselves to caress Maxine’s lower back, right at the curve of her ass.
“Looks like the crowd’s thinning.”
“Mm,” is all she answers, tucked against me, her fiery red hair tickling my chin.
“I’ll stay and help you clean up.”
“You don’t have to,” she replies, slowly bringing her head away from my chest and meeting my gaze, weary. “Some of the others are sticking around to help.”
“And so will I.”
She narrows those pretty blue eyes at me, then purses her lips. “Okay. We’ll start after the song, though.” She dips her head, resting it on me once again, and the smile that stretches across my face actually makes my cheeks ache.
“I thought you hated Billy Joel.”
“I do. With fiery passion. Now shush.”
She hums the next few lines, her voice a warm vibration resonating against my chest. I listen to the words, and it makes the pounding of my heart speed up.
Need to know that you will always be the same old someone that I knew.
“Total cheese,” she whispers.
“Absolute brie,” I reply. “But still great.”
“The best.”
“Yeah, you hate him all right,” I shoot back with a chuckle.
“You can love and hate something in equal parts. It’s not that hard.” She squeezes my hand. “Trust me, I know.” That darkness returns to her tone, and her body tenses.
The song ends, and she pulls away, but I don’t want to let her go. My left thumb brushes playfully against her hip as my other hand tightens around hers. Maxine’s gaze stays on mine until Mabel taps her shoulder.
“Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds,” the older lady says with a kind smile that creates a twinkle in her gray eyes.
“Not lovebirds,” Maxine quickly corrects. “Is everything all right?”
“I was on my way to bed, but there’s quite a loud noise coming from a room down the hall. I tried to ignore it, but…”
She seems so uncomfortable asking for help. I step forward. “Not a problem. We’ll take care of it,” I offer.
“Thank you so much, Mitchell.”
I extend my bent arm to her. “Why don’t I walk you back to your room, then I’ll go look into that noise?”
She places her hand in the crook of my elbow. “That would be perfect. Such a fine gentleman.”
Back inside, we walk up to her room, exchanging pleasantries.
“Thank you both once again for hosting this party for Vennie and Asher. It was absolutely perfect.”
“Not a problem,” Maxine says. “It was our pleasure.”
“You two make a good team,” Mabel says.
She tells me once again about her late husband and her annual tradition of staying at the inn for their anniversary. Even though I’ve heard this story countless times, the idea of such a long-lasting love, and the pain of losing it, hits me in the chest every time.
Once I wish her a goodnight, I rush down the hall and meet Maxine, who’s already standing at the door with a toolbox at her feet. A low, but no less loud noise echoes from behind the door.
“I’ll take care of this,” Max says, unlocking the door. “The radiator acts up sometimes. I thought I’d fixed it.”
“Guess you didn’t,” I say with a smirk, totally messing with her, but she spins around, her eyes spitting fire.
“You don’t need to keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Jumping in. I’ll handle this, like I’ve handled everything.”
I follow her into the room. “Whoa, I was playing around.”
“I’m sick of everyone saying what I can and cannot do. Sick of being dismissed as this weak woman who can’t survive on her own. Or can’t take care of a simple radiator leak.”
I love this sudden spark of energy and determination, but I school my smirk because now’s not the time to poke the bear. “To be fair, there’s nothing simple about a radiator leak. I’m sure most people couldn’t take care of something like that.”
“Well, I can.” I now notice she’s gripping a wrench, and she points it at her chest. “And I have. I’ve done so much for this place.
For years, I’ve kept it going. I’ve fixed toilets and pipes and painted and redone wallpaper before you even got here.
I’ve managed to keep people employed for years.
Since I was eighteen. I learned it all on my own.
And I’ve done it all while helping your parents out when they needed you, but you weren’t around. ”
“Max, calm down. No one’s saying you can’t do this. And I know you can handle this alone. I’m just saying that you don’t need to.”
She drops her chin and shrugs. “I appreciate it, but I’ve got this. Why don’t you go back downstairs and start cleaning up? I’ll be down once this is done.”
“You sure?”
She tilts her head, slamming her wrench-holding hand onto her hip. “Didn’t I just say I could handle it?”
I laugh softly. “You did.” I turn to leave, but then stop.
“For what it’s worth, Max, I’ve never doubted you could fix this place up.
I’m impressed with what you’ve done. Everything you’ve done.
Not just for the inn.” I run a hand along the back of my neck with a sigh.
“Only, I was worried that you didn’t see it. ”
“See what?”
“All that you’ve accomplished. I wanted you to see that you could do this. When I got here, you didn’t seem too interested in sticking around or fixing it. As I recall, you even offered to sell it.”
“I never would have sold it.” Her shoulders slump, and she hugs herself tightly, her eyes darting away. Then, she sinks down onto the bed. “It’s just been hard.”
Seeing her in her beautiful peach dress holding a rusty old wrench is almost too much. I pull my phone out and snap a picture.
She jerks her head up. “Did you take a picture of me?”
“I’m sorry, but I had to.”
“Delete that. Right now.” She drops the wrench on the bed, then rushes toward me and tries to get the phone, but I tuck it behind my back.
“Never. That’s a keeper.”
While she tries to wrestle it from my grasp, I wrap an arm around her to hold her back, keeping the phone out of reach.
Her chest presses against mine, sending blood rushing to my extremities.
Finally, she stops fighting, pulling back and settling her hands on my hips.
She giggles, looking up at me from under those light lashes.
But all too suddenly, she stops, quickly dropping her hands and stepping back.
“Whatever. Keep it. Not like anyone wants to see it.”
“Trust me, I would,” I answer, my voice low, my heart still beating frantically.
She gives me an eye roll before grabbing the wrench and then crouching by the radiator to twist a knob.
“Why are you so hard on yourself?” I ask, stepping up behind her. I watch her work, her toned arms tensing as she grips and turns the wrench.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You still don’t think you’re worthy of being ogled. You worked your ass off on this place, kept it alive, and somehow you’re only now realizing it.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She stills and turns her head, but doesn’t entirely glance at me over her shoulder. “And don’t presume to know anything about me.”
“Ah, come on, Max. I know you better than you think. Always have.” Reaching down, I slip her red hair off her shoulder and let my fingertips graze her bare skin. She leans into my touch, but then swiftly stands, facing me.
“What are you even doing here?” she spits, pointing the wrench at me. “I told you I could handle this. You’re checking on me, aren’t you? Making sure I don’t blow up the room because there’s no way poor, stupid Maxine could—”
“Would you shut up already?” I explode, gripping her shoulders, nearly shaking her out of her little rant. “I would never think you’re stupid.”
“So, then trust me. I’ll fix this.”
“I don’t doubt it.” I drop my hold. “And I do trust you.”
“Then why don’t you just… leave?” she asks. Her voice cracks with desperation, and I realize she’s not talking about me leaving this room.
I sink into one of the nearby forest-green high wingback chairs. “You mean Oakwhite?”
Without answering, she turns toward the radiator again and her silence is all the answer I need.
“Max…” I begin, but pause and take a deep breath.
Here we are once again, in a room together, uninterrupted. This is it, my chance to get things off my chest.
“I know we’ll never get those years back and that we did some dumb stuff.
Stuff we could have fixed if we hadn’t been too proud to admit we were wrong.
” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“I’ll admit I was arrogant, and I convinced myself I couldn’t trust you.
That I shouldn’t be near you. But they were all lies I told to protect myself. ”
I can’t see her face, but she drops her head and shoulders, and I hear a faint sniffle. That need to pull her into my arms returns, but I look away and stare at the empty fireplace instead.
“Since I’ve been home, all I’ve wanted is to be around you. Even when I couldn’t stand you, I wanted to be near you.”
She remains so silent and still, I worry I’ve stepped too far. That I’ve revealed something I can’t take back.
I go on. “I’ll be gone in a few days. Do you think we can forgive each other?”
She gets down on the floor to sit. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lower lip quivers. As she lifts her gaze to mine, the dim light catches the sheen in her eyes, and she smiles sadly.
“I never despised you, Mitch. Not even when I knew I should.” Her voice trembles and sounds so tiny and fragile; it breaks my heart.
“Neither did I.” I return her sad smile. “Not even when I knew I should,” I say, echoing her words.
I release a quick exhale, as if our honesty has punched me straight in the gut, knocking the air from my lungs.
My surprise soon turns to anger, not toward her, but toward myself. I drop my head into my hands, my fingers digging into my hair.
“Fuck,” I growl.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve wasted so much time being angry. But with the wrong person.”
She stands up and walks in my direction, and the floor creaks under her weight. Her fingertips brush against mine.
“Same goes for me.”
I take her hand, bring it to my lips, and kiss her knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” she adds. “I should have tried harder.”
“No, don’t do that,” I insist. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have stuck around.”
“You didn’t have a choice. Nothing’s more important than hockey, right?” she says, but without ill will. The corner of her mouth quirks. I can’t fault her for repeating my words back to me. I used to say them so often, they were practically my mantra.
“I put hockey above all else, didn’t I?”
She slips her hand away from mine and steps back. “Everyone needs that one true passion to follow. And hey, you’re lucky. You found yours and chased it. I never held that against you.” She looks up and to the left. “Well, not entirely.”
I stare at her, mesmerized by her gorgeous curls framing her face and falling over her delicate shoulders. I take her hands in mine. A levee bursts open between us, and I’m overcome by a rush of need to be close to her and to release it all.
“I love hockey. And sure, it’s one of my passions, but it’s not my everything. I see that now.”
She runs her thumb along the curve of my hand. I notice her hard swallow, but she doesn’t speak.
“And let’s face it,” I continue. “I’m pretty much useless to them now.”
“You’re not useless.”
“I am. They think I’m an old man. I’m thirty-one, Max. Thirty-fucking-one and all I feel like is some washed-up, broken old fart.”
Her soft chuckle is the unexpected relief I didn’t realize I was desperate for. “You’re not an old fart. And who cares what they say?”
I tilt my head. “The more I hear it, the more I believe it’s true. Maybe they’re right to give up on me.”
“Mitch,” she starts, her eyes dancing over my face as she cups my cheek with her hand. “You’re not any of those things.”
I knock my hip and grimace, my expression saying, are you sure?
“Does it hurt?”
“All the time,” I admit, dropping my gaze to our joined hands and noting how well they fit together. “There are good and bad days. Today’s a bad one. Must be all the dancing,” I kid.
“You’ve hidden it pretty well.”
“I couldn’t let anyone know. Even my agent has no idea how bad it is. The league definitely doesn’t.”
“But you can’t play on it if it’s that painful. You need to get it checked.”
“I’ve had it checked. The docs warned me long-term pain was a possible side effect of the surgery. And let’s be honest, I haven’t been kind to my body,” I add, arching my eyebrow.
The concern that fills her soft smile reminds me of when we were kids.
The stunts I’d pull—jumping off cliffs into the sea, taking spills over the handlebars of my mountain bike, smacking ribs-first into trees.
She’s seen me treat my body like a punching bag and hated when I did, but she was always there to make it better.
“It’s amazing you made it out alive,” she jokes, but I don’t miss the dark shadow that floats through her eyes.
The silence between us stretches, but our hands keep us tethered. “Have you considered a second opinion? About your hip?”
“You mean a fourth?” I reply. “I’ve seen all the experts. The league doctor kept it quiet because he’s a friend and owes me a couple of favors. But he’s warned me, if I push myself too hard, it won’t end well.”
She frowns. “What does that mean?”
“It means I could cause some very serious damage. Permanent damage.”
“I’m so sorry, Mitch.”
She steps closer, tucking herself between my knees, then frames my face with her hands, drawing my eyes up to hers. Her soft touch is so warm and comforting; I can’t help but lean into it and shut my eyes.
“Well, then, it seems pretty clear what you have to do,” she says.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“You don’t go back.”