37. Max
MAX
I had been sitting on the porch too long, with my hands in my jacket pockets, trying to make sense of the mess in my head but failing.
The game had been a disaster, the kind of night when nothing goes right and no amount of effort can fix it.
But it wasn’t just the game. It was everything piling up, and the phone call I’d been trying not to think about all night.
Now here I was, sitting on Emma’s porch like some dumb idiot who couldn’t figure out how to leave.
Headlights swept across the street. A cab pulled up, its brakes screeching, and before I could get up, there she was – Emma, beautiful as ever. When she saw me, she smiled, the kind of smile that usually undid me.
“Max,” she said, happy and surprised. “What are you doing here?”
I should have smiled back. I should have said that I just wanted to see her. But what came out was, “Where have you been?” My voice was sharper than I meant. Too sharp. Shit. I hated how obvious the worry was, hated that it leaked out before I could stop it.
Her eyebrows went up. “I was at a conference. I told you about that.”
“At eleven at night, Emma?”
She shook her head, still patient but not missing the edge in my voice. “No, of course not. We went out for dinner and had some drinks afterwards. That’s all.”
“And you didn’t think to let me know? Didn’t think to text me back?!” I sounded pissed, and yeah, I was, but it was because I had been worried about her.
She frowned, confused. “Max, we weren’t supposed to meet up. And my battery died. Why are you trying to pick a fight? This doesn’t sound like you.”
“Because I had a shit day,” I said, louder than I wanted to. “And I needed you. And you weren’t there.”
She stared at me, taken aback, but I couldn’t stop. Not now.
“My chest’s been tight all day. Like, really tight.
I tried to shake it off during the game, tried to just play and not think, but my head wouldn’t quiet down.
Every time I messed up, I kept thinking – maybe this is how it’ll feel when you’re gone.
Just… empty. Off. Like I’m out there trying to skate with only one skate. ”
I ran my hand through my hair, my voice getting rough.
“I know it sounds pathetic, but that’s just how it is.
And tonight, when you didn’t answer–” I let out a shaky breath.
“I went straight to the worst-case scenario. You, out there one day, building a life that doesn’t have me in it.
And me checking my phone every five minutes like some damn teenager. ”
The words kept coming, fast and raw. “I know it’s not fair. You don’t owe me anything. But I’m not used to needing people, Emma. I spent most of my life making sure I didn’t. And now I do. Now it’s you. And it scares the hell out of me.”
She looked at me then, and her eyes softened in a way that made my chest hurt. Pitiful, almost, like I was breakable. I hated that look. I didn’t want pity. But I couldn’t tell her that without making it worse, so I held it in and stood there with my jaw tight and my stomach in knots.
She was quiet for a while, looking at me like she was working up the nerve to say something she really didn’t want to say. When she did, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Max… maybe we should take a break.”
She inhaled, almost like it hurt. “When you talk like this… it’s like you need something from me that I can’t give you.”
My whole body went hot, then cold. Panic gripped me. “Emma, don’t you dare,” I said in a low, urgent voice. “Don’t you try to end this now. I still have a few weeks with you. I’m not giving those up. So fuck that.”
She moved before I could spiral further, stepped right into me, and put her arms around my neck.
No hesitation. She just held me like she could keep me from falling apart with her strength.
And maybe she could. My arms went around her instantly, hard, fierce.
I crushed her against me, not caring how desperate it felt, because I needed that closeness more than I needed air.
We didn’t move for a whole minute. For the first time all day, my chest felt better, just enough for me to breathe.
I managed to whisper into her hair, rough and low, “I’m sorry. For being a dick.”
She leaned back just enough to look at me. Her eyes were soft and steady, and her mouth was curved into a small smile. “That’s okay. Everyone’s allowed to be a dick sometimes.” She tilted her head, teasing just a little. “Even you.”
Despite everything, I laughed, a small, broken sound that felt like relief.
“Come on,” she said softly as she reached for her keys and put her arm around mine. “Let’s go inside.” She opened the door, nudged me through, and pointed to the couch. “Go and sit down.” And she looked at me with that calm authority she always had. “Do you want some tea?”
I smiled at that word. Tea. So her. “No, I’m fine.”
“Anything else?” she asked, her eyes warm and waiting.
“No, baby, I’m fine,” I said quickly.
“Okay. I’ll put the kettle on anyway. And change out of these work clothes. I’ll be right back.”
I leaned back into the cushions, my head against the couch.
She had already calmed me down. Just being here, letting me in, and telling me to sit was enough to steady me – and that scared the hell out of me.
If she could fix me this easily, what would it do to me if she left?
I didn’t want to think about it. All I knew was that when she mentioned taking a break earlier, panic hit me like a fist to my chest. I couldn’t let that happen.
Not with her. Not when she was the only thing in my life that felt right.
A few minutes later, she came back with her hair down, tea steaming in her hands, and curled up next to me on the couch. “Okay. What happened today?”
I sighed and rubbed my jaw. “The game was a disaster. Everything went wrong. I missed an easy block because I wasn’t paying attention, and it cost us a goal.
Later I got caught out of position, which led to another.
We have a good chance of making the playoffs, but nights like this?
Too many, and it’ll all slip away. And the worst part is that I can’t stop blaming myself. Because I was distracted.”
“By what?” she asked gently.
I let out a big breath. “My mom called today. I don’t usually pick up, but I wasn’t paying attention and all of a sudden I was on the phone with her.
She’s been asking Grace to tell me she wants to meet.
She says she’s been going to therapy and that her therapist thinks it would help if she talked to me.
And I… I freaked out. I made up an excuse about being busy and hung up.
And then I felt shit about it all night. ”
“Do you want to meet her?” Emma asked carefully.
“I don’t know,” I said. It came out fast and a little desperate. “I just don’t know.”
“Max, hearing from her like that… it makes sense you didn’t know what to do with it.”
“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s like part of me wants to know if she’s really changed… but the other part doesn’t trust her. Or myself, really.”
She nodded, her thumb brushing my hand. “You’ve been trying to push it down, but it keeps finding its way back, doesn’t it.”
“Yeah, I know.” I couldn’t help but sigh again.
Emma thought for a moment before continuing, “Well, you don’t have a relationship with her right now. If you meet and it’s terrible, at least you’ll know where you stand. And if there’s something worth saving, it might give you more than you expected. Either way, you won’t be left wondering.”
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I hear you.” I said. “I’m just… not there yet. I should’ve told you sooner though. I just didn’t know what to do with any of it. Thanks, Em.”
She reached up and lightly touched my cheek. “You’re welcome, Max.”
I smiled and closed my eyes for a second to enjoy her touch. “I love that you call me Max,” I said in a low voice. “Not Finn. My stepfather’s name was Finnegan. It reminds me of a time when I didn’t feel safe.”
“So why don’t you tell people to stop calling you Finn?” she asked, not challenging, but out of curiosity.
“Because it feels like backing down. Like I did when I was a kid – taking up less space because it was safer. I’m not that guy anymore… But Max is who I really am.”
Her eyes softened. “You feeling better?”
“Yeah,” I said, and I meant it. For a moment, neither of us looked away. Something in her gaze lingered, and it drew me in before I even realized it. Her thumb brushed my knuckles again, like she was making sure I was really okay.
“Get over here,” I said quietly.
She put her cup on the coffee table, swung her leg over and straddled my lap, before I could say another word.
My hands instinctively gripped her hips, pulling her close.
Our mouths touched in a slow kiss that was both hesitant and charged.
But it changed quickly, the kiss turning fierce and hungry.
The soft sounds she made against my lips stripped away the little control I had left.
I shifted under her, gripping harder, as she pressed closer and ground down.
I groaned into her mouth, my fingers digging into her sweater.
Without breaking the kiss, I pushed myself up from the couch, and hooked her legs around my waist. She let out a surprised laugh against my lips before kissing me harder, her arms wrapping tight around my shoulders. I stood up straight, her body solid and perfect against mine.
As I carried her upstairs, her legs tightened around me, her mouth still hot on mine, and she laughed when I bumped my shoulder against the wall. I didn’t care.
I was half out of breath by the time we reached her room, not just from the stairs but from the way she was tugging my hair and kissing me deeper, making it impossible to think straight.
I dropped her onto the bed and followed her down, kissing her again before she could make fun of me for almost tripping on the last step.
Her sweater was soft, but the skin beneath it was warmer. No underwear. Heat flared up in my gut. She trembled when I cupped her breast, her nipple tightening under my thumb. Her gasp melted into my mouth, her body arching as if she had been waiting for this exact touch.
“Jesus, Emma,” I whispered against her lips, my voice thick with want. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
She gave me a sly little grin, her eyes bright with mischief. “If that’s all it takes to undo you, Max, I’m starting to wonder about your stamina.”
I laughed, a ragged sound in my throat, and pressed my forehead against hers. “Brutal,” I said, grinning. “But fair.”
I kissed her through the fabric first, dragging my mouth over her, then pulled the sweater up to bare her breasts.
Christ. She was gorgeous. I closed my mouth over one nipple, sucking gently, teasing with my tongue until she made a sound that went straight to my cock.
I switched sides and gave it the same amount of attention, kissing, licking, and rolling the tight bud between my lips.
I pulled her sweater over her head, leaving her naked and perfect beneath me.
“Take these off,” I told her, nodding at the sweatpants hanging low on her hips.
She smirked. “You first.”
God help me, I laughed – low and raw – because she was still challenging me even now. I stripped off my shirt and jeans, and as soon as I was naked, she hooked her thumbs in her sweats and slowly shimmied out of them, her eyes on mine the whole time.
“Happy now?” she teased.
“Not even close.”
I kissed her again, hard, my hand moving down the curve of her stomach until she arched into me. She was already wet, and the sound she made when my fingers found her was enough to make me forget everything else.
“Look at me,” I said, low, rough.
As I steadily pushed my fingers deeper, her lashes lifted and her green eyes locked on mine.
She clenched around me, her hips pushing up to meet every move.
I stroked her until she was begging, her fingers grabbing my hair, holding me tight.
I gave her everything – my tongue, lips, and teeth – until she was helplessly shuddering beneath me.
By the time I slid back up to her mouth, she was whispering my name like a prayer, her whole body shaking with need. Only then did I reach for a condom, rip it open and roll it on. I pushed against her, caught her eyes again, and sank into her in one long, deep thrust.
We both groaned, the sound wrecked, as if we both had been starving for this. She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me closer. I moved slow at first, drawing it out, enjoying the way she clenched around me and the feel of her nails digging into my back.
“You feel so good,” I whispered, kissing her jaw, mouth, and anything else I could reach.
I set a steady pace, letting her ride each thrust higher.
She tightened around me, her body shuddering as she broke apart again.
I wanted to lose it right then, but I didn’t.
Not yet. I wanted her needy. Squirming. I slowed down, dragging it out so I could feel every flutter of her body against mine.
She was sensitive, but she didn’t let me stop.
Her soft whimpers urged me on, tightening her legs around my waist, her mouth desperate against mine.
I found a new rhythm, harder, deeper, until I felt her climb again.
She gasped, her body tensing, and a helpless little sound escaped her throat as she shattered a third time.
My control snapped. I pressed my forehead against hers, my hips driving harder now, chasing the edge I couldn’t hold back any longer.
When it hit, it was sharp and consuming. I groaned against her neck, spilling into her, every muscle in my body locking tight before letting go completely.
For a long while after, all I could do was breathe against her – sweat-slick, her body still wrapped around me, her fingers tangled in my hair like she wasn’t ready to let go either. When I eased back, she looked up at me with a lazy, satisfied smile.
“Better?” she asked, her British accent catching on the word in a way that made me ache.
“Yeah,” I said, brushing my lips over hers.
She was so warm and happy. And that was when it hit me…
somewhere between hockey talks, hot chocolates, and late nights, I’d fallen in love with her.
I wasn’t ready to say it yet. I just needed to feel her here, breathing with me, for a little longer.
So I kept it to myself and kissed her again instead.