Chapter 39 Rules Are Rules
Rules Are Rules
Eli
When I planned to come see her, I pictured Max showing me around her city.
Maybe her favorite food spots. And I have to admit I even thought about what it would be like to meet her mom.
To see if her mother would welcome me the same way mine welcomed Max.
The way her mom brightens tells me everything I need to know.
Max’s mom’s place surprises me.
Not because it’s grand. It isn’t. It’s a modest townhome tucked into a brick building that reminds me of East Coast row homes.
Stacked close together, shoulders brushing, and history pressed into the walls.
But it’s beautiful in a way that feels lived-in and intentional.
Cozy, but firm. Welcoming, but with boundaries.
Like Max.
Max stands beside me, like a teenage girl bringing a boy home for the first time. “Mom,” she says, formal but proud, “this is Eli.”
Her mother just beams at first and I see the space feels like her too.
Warm light spills from mismatched lamps. Framed Black art leans instead of hanging perfectly straight, like it demands to be acknowledged when you walk into the room.
There are books everywhere. Plants that look both loved and decorative, somehow managing to be practical and pretty at the same time. The place smells like citrus cleaner and something else I can’t quite name—comfort, maybe.
I stretch out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you—”
“Tonya,” she offers with a bright smile.
I nod. “Ms. Tonya, It’s lovely to meet you. You have a beautiful home.”
“Isn’t he pretty, Mommy?” Max sings, and we all burst up laughing.
I see it immediately. This is where Max comes to exhale. The transformation is fascinating as she settles in, her guarded edges smooth out and her jokes flow unfiltered.
She reaches for her mother’s sweet tea on the coffee table, taking a deep gulp while her mom watches with a silent, indulgent smile.
This is Max unarmored and it does something to me, seeing her like this—witnessing the version of her that isn’t busy managing the room. She’s just…home.
I love that this place exists for her.
But the thought that follows is a bit forward. Selfish, even.
I want to be this for her too.
Not instead of this—never that—but alongside it. To build a place where she can lay her armor down and know she’s held. Where rest isn’t borrowed. Where she doesn’t have to earn peace.
With me.
Her mother looks me over, slow and thorough, then smiles wide. “So this is the coochie-kidnapping Canadian, huh?”
Max groans, only seeming half embarrassed for real. “Mommy!”
I laugh before I can stop myself. “Well,” I say, leaning down to kiss Ms. Tonya on the cheek. “My mother would absolutely adore you.”
She winks, staring right into my eyes. “I like him already. You want something to drink, baby?”
“Water’s perfect,” I say.
She nods approvingly and motions us toward the sitting area. We barely get settled before she turns to me again. “So,” she says, eyes gleaming, “tell me how you two met. And how you got that nickname, Bear.”
“Oh no,” Max mumbles under her breath, but her mom just keeps going.
“Max has said it at least twice since she’s been back and I’ve been too fascinated with the other stories to ask!”
I tell the story. About the elk. The rescue. The way Max initially annoyed the absolute hell out of me every time she called me Bear. And then, how somewhere between the sarcasm and the sexual harassment, she managed to work herself under my skin.
I don’t dress it up. I don’t pretend I was immune.
I tell it straight: I didn’t stand a chance.
Her mom snorts. Loud. “Ohhh, I thought it was because you had a bear of a—”
“Mommy!” Max yells.
I’m still laughing when the front door opens and a young woman walks in like a storm.
She looks like Max, but taller. No glasses. Her hair isn’t curly. It falls long and layered, styled the way women on social media seem to master effortlessly. She’s beautiful. Striking, even. But she isn’t Max.
And I see the difference as soon as I look between the two.
“Well damn,” a voice rings out, stopping us short. “I miss a few family dinners and y’all bring home a whole man?”
I feel Max tense up beside me instantly. It’s like a physical current of electricity shoots through her, turning her posture into a jagged line of defense. Without thinking, I gently move my hand to cover hers, trying to ground her before she bolts.
“Jussie. Justine. This is Maxine’s…Eli,” Max’s mom stutters, and I can tell she wasn’t prepared for this little reunion.
Neither was Max.
I stand and greet her sister like the gentleman my mother raised me to be, offering a steady presence in the middle of their storm. “Eli Shaw,” I say, reaching for Justine’s hand.
“Nice to meet you,” she drawls, a hint of a Southern accent curling around her words as she looks me up and down.
“Pleasure,” I reply shortly. I sit back down, trying to draw Max back into the fold, but the damage is done.
The silence that follows is intense, vibrating with years of unspoken resentment. Within a minute, Max is on her feet, giving everyone whiplash as she heads for the front door. I don’t wait for an invitation. I follow her.
The Georgia air is thick compared to the crisp Canadian mountain breeze, but the tension rolling off Max is colder than any frost I’ve been exposed to. It’s…biting.
She walks fast, her arms wrapped tight around her middle like she’s trying to hold herself together.
“Max,” I call out, catching up to her on the sidewalk. “Talk to me.”
She doesn't answer. She just keeps moving, her jaw set.
“Maxine, stop,” I say, reaching out to catch her shoulder. She finally halts but refuses to look at me. “Your little ass can’t walk that far with those short legs anyway.”
The corner of her mouth twitches—not quite a laugh, but close enough. I take the opening and pull her into me. She doesn't fight it; she just buries her head in my chest and lets out a jagged breath.
“You don’t get it,” she mumbles into my sweater.
“I think I might, Lil Mama. And believe me, shutting her out like this doesn't help. It’s just eating you alive.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Eli,” she snaps, finally cutting her eyes toward me.
“I know what bitterness looks like,” I say softly.
“You don’t have to talk to her every day.
You don’t even have to be best friends. But don't let her disrupt your peace so much that it keeps you from enjoying your mother while she’s still around.
You’re punishing yourself as much as you’re punishing her. ”
I tilt her chin up, trying to catch her gaze. “And by staying away, you might be missing out on an opportunity to see that Justine has grown. People change, Max.”
“It's not as simple as you're making it out to be, Eli.” Max's sharp, humorless laugh cut the air. “Just because you and Elliot had your big, emotional breakthrough and made up, it doesn't mean things will be the same for Justine and me. At least not right now.”
Cars pass us on the street as she stares into the distance, her gaze finally cutting back to me.
“We can’t be in the same room without fighting,” she says, her voice tight.
“She always makes excuses for her poor choices. My mother never stands her ground with her. And whatever she wants, she just—” She stops, the words snagging in her throat.
“I do everything while she gets a free pass. The easy life.”
I dip my head, catching her gaze to pull her focus back to me. “But do you have to do everything? Maybe your sister is waiting for permission—or your approval—to step up. Maybe she’s intimidated by everything you’ve accomplished and—”
She scoffs, the sound cold and disbelieving. “That girl has never met a person who could intimidate her.”
“You’d be surprised. You said she’s younger, that she’s childish.
Maybe your little sister needs you to show her a few things.
Maybe you need her to show you how to relax and let someone else take care of things—even if they aren’t done perfectly.
Even if they aren’t done exactly the way you’d do them. ”
She falls quiet, but she listens.
“Maybe the reason you have such a hard time finding your own brand of peace, and the reason you had to come to another country to borrow mine, is because you’re allowing your resentment to hold it hostage here.”
Max flinches, but she doesn’t argue. She just looks away, her eyes glossy and distant.
I look across the street and raise my hand. Max’s eyes follow the movement as the black SUV I arranged earlier pulls away from the opposite curb, makes a slow U-turn, and comes to a stop at the sidewalk near us.
“I’m going to go back to my hotel,” I say, my voice low. “I’m staying at the new one near the soccer stadium. Lara said it had the best rating.”
She bites her bottom lip. “Okay.”
“It just seems like you have some family things to take care of, so I’m going to leave you to it. But, can I see you tomorrow? I want to talk.”
She nods. “Yes, of course.”
I lean down to kiss her on the cheek. “Think about what I said. I’ll call you later,” I say.
“Eli,” she calls out, eyes fixed on the pavement before finally meeting mine. “I know I have work to do, too.”
I lean down and kiss her on the lips this time. “We all do, Lil Mama. It’s just a matter of when we decide to do it.”
Max
I step back inside, the heaviness of the afternoon following me in. My mother is standing right by the door, shamelessly adjusted like she’s been pressed against the wood for the last five minutes.
“I tried to listen to what y’all were talking about,” she admits, smoothing her apron, “but he talks too low and you didn't say much at all, for a change.”
“Mommy,” I warn, my voice sounding more tired than I intended. “I just needed a minute.”
“Well, your minute is up. Wash your hands. I need help with these peas.”