2. Max
MAX
The evening sun was casting a warm glow over my sister’s backyard.
The air carried that summer mix of cut grass and the faint drift of someone’s barbecue from a few houses away.
I sat down in a chair on the porch, the old boards creaking beneath my weight, and watched my niece and nephew in the yard.
Lucy was swinging from one of the branches of the old oak tree, her hair flying and her legs pumping hard.
Lucas was crouched down by the fence, his elbows buried deep in mud, smashing his toy truck into the puddles he’d just made.
There were already dark streaks on his shirt that wouldn’t come out easily.
I turned to the kitchen door and called out, “Kid’s gonna need a good hose-down before you let him back in.”
Grace’s laugh floated back through the screen door. “He’s five, Max. Dirt’s his middle name.”
I shook my head and grinned as Lucas patted down a mud pie with his palms, proud as a peacock. Lucy, meanwhile, just leaned back further and kicked even harder, climbing higher and higher on the swing. At ten years old, she was braver than most, making me proud and nervous at the same time.
The door creaked open when Grace came back outside with two glasses of iced tea. The condensation slid down the sides, catching the light. She handed me one and settled into the chair next to me, folding her legs beneath her like she always did when she was relaxed.
“Thanks,” I said and took a sip. The iced tea was sharp and cold. Perfect.
Grace glanced toward the yard and then back at me. “So. What’s on your mind? You have that face.”
I snorted. “This is just my face.”
“Nope,” she said, pointing at me with her drink. “That’s your brooding face. Hockey Max is very loud. Brother Max goes quiet and stares into space like he’s figuring out how to bring about world peace. Spit it out.”
I didn’t answer right away. Watching them, something tight settled behind my ribs. Lucy laughed as she kicked higher. Lucas wiped mud on his shorts like it didn’t matter. I looked away first.
Finally, I let out a sigh. “I think I’m done screwing around.”
Grace turned her head and raised her eyebrows. “That’s cryptic. Screwing around with what? Your training? Your diet?”
“Girls,” I said. “The casual stuff. Hookups after games, one-night stands – all of it. I’m tired of it.”
Her eyebrows went even higher. “Wow. I didn’t see that one coming.”
“Yeah, well.” I rubbed the back of my neck. It felt strange to say it out loud. “Grace, I’m thirty now. Thirty. I don’t wanna wake up in ten years still doing the same crap. I want a family, something solid and real, like what I see in the yard.
Her face softened and the teasing was gone. She leaned in. “Max…”
“I mean it,” I cut in. “I know I’ve been that guy, the player, on and off the ice. It was fine for a while. But now? It feels empty. I keep thinking that maybe it’s time to build something that matters. Just like you did.”
She nodded, understanding the weight of my words. “So, why now? What’s changed?”
I looked down at my glass and watched a droplet of water roll across my thumb.
“I can’t stop thinking about what I missed growing up.
And I know that Lucy and Lucas will never have to worry about whether they are wanted.
They won’t have to go through what I did.
I want that for my own kids one day, but first, I need someone who makes me want to stay.
Grace didn’t say anything and just looked at me. “You’ve been thinking about this a lot, huh?”
“Yeah,” I told her. “More than I wanna admit.”
She reached over and squeezed my hand. “You deserve it, Max.”
I wanted to believe her, but memories of my past flooded back, reminding me of the harsh words I grew up with.
Grace must’ve read my face. “You’re not him, Max. You’re not our dad.”
“Stepfather,” I muttered.
She tilted her head. “He still raised us.”
I let out a humourless laugh. “Raised. Sure.”
She didn’t push. She never did. We both knew what that word meant.
For a second, I thought about saying more. Naming it. But I forced myself to swallow it. Not with the kids laughing out there and this peace around us.
I rubbed my jaw. “Doesn’t matter. What I do know is that I want something different. Better.”
Her eyes softened. “You will. You’re not like him at all.”
I didn’t say anything. Instead, I watched Lucas. Covered in mud, he was trying to climb the swing set, but slipped halfway down, laughing anyway. That sound hit me hard. “That’s it,” I said softly. “That’s what I want. A family that feels right. A home.”
Grace smiled faintly. “So what’s your plan? You can’t exactly draft a wife.”
I chuckled. “Guess I’ll actually date. Not just fool around. See where it goes.”
“You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
She leaned back, sipping her tea. “I’m proud of you. But you know it won’t be easy. You’ll have to let someone past the walls. Past the grin. Past the charm.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
That part scared me the most.
The sun went down. Lucy slowed down her swing and dragged her feet. Lucas abandoned the worms to chase her and there was just mud everywhere. He flashed me a grin, gap-toothed.
“You, kid, are a disaster,” I yelled.
He giggled and bolted away.
We sat in silence for a while, with the swing creaking and cicadas buzzing. Then Grace cleared her throat. “Ran into Bridget the other day.”
I groaned. “Oh, come on.”
“She asked about you. Said she hasn’t seen you in forever. Which is true.”
“Yeah, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Grace raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound like she’s been chasing you for years.”
“She has since that night,” I said flatly.
Her eyebrows went up.
“We hooked up once, years ago. And she’s still trying to make it into something more.
It’s always the same thing when I see her.
Always confident. Always smiling like she already knew the answer to whatever she was about to ask.
‘When are we doing this again, Finn?’” I made my voice high, mocking without meaning to.
Grace bit back a laugh. “That sounds about right.”
“She doesn’t quit,” I said. “I’ll give her credit for not giving up. But it’s not happening.”
Grace’s smile turned softer. “She’s strong and independent, Max. Those are good qualities.”
“Yeah,” I said. “She is. Too smart to keep chasing someone who won’t meet her halfway.”
Grace studied me. “That doesn’t mean she’s wrong for wanting more.”
I looked back at the yard. “No. It just means I’m wrong for her.”
I sighed. “I want someone… warm. Kind. Bridget’s fire. She burns hot, sure, but I don’t want to spend my life avoiding flames.”
Grace studied me and then nodded. “Fair enough.”
We let it go quiet again. Lucy swung lazily. Lucas laughed in the dirt. I sat back and took a deep breath, listening to the cicadas and the soft creak of the swing, and let myself imagine a version of my life that didn’t feel so temporary.