Chapter 14 #2
Will went on. “I was just thinking about you. Old Birdneck treating you okay?”
“New Hawkshead.”
“But don’t you like my version better?”
There had always been something so soothing about Will’s voice.
Low and melodious, it was a radio DJ voice, or an audiobook voice.
Whenever they’d studied together in college and test anxiety began to rise, Maxim would ask Will to read passages from textbooks out loud.
Even now, he could feel his blood pressure dropping.
He sagged against the kitchen counter, then decided that wasn’t good enough and slid down to the cold tiles.
Maybe Will had magic. Hadn’t Pippa mentioned verbal power as one of the types? There could be a spell weaving right now on the other end of the line, soaking into Maxim’s bones through his phone’s little speaker. If that was so, when would Will decide Maxim wasn’t worth keeping around?
God, he hated how easy it was to slip into the warm lap of bitter pessimism. He pressed his forehead into his knees and stared at the heathered fabric of his sweats.
Will gave a short, tinny chuckle. “By the sound of your silence, I can tell you’re so very impatient to tell me about all of the amazing things in your life.”
“Yeah,” Maxim said in an exhale. “It’s . . . Things have been better.”
“What’s on your brain?”
“Getting in over my head, disappointing myself, fucking up relationships, falling for someone who never had the intention of falling back. The usual.”
“Hmm. You should probably stop doing all that.”
Maxim groaned and hoped Will could hear the thunk of his head against the cabinet door. “Thanks. I knew I called you for a reason.”
“Use the salt lamp I gave you. Just stare at it for a bit, it might help—”
“Center me?” Maxim finished along with Will. He scoffed. “No, thanks, but I think my life right now needs something more impactful than a bowl of glowing pink rocks.”
He heard Will sigh, slow and long. “What did you want from this call, Maxim?”
Coming from anyone else, Maxim would have assumed that his defensive snapping had earned him the recipient’s annoyance and impatience. But Will knew him too well for that. Sometimes, all Maxim needed was a little direction and a reminder that he was the one who’d called.
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“What would you do if demons were real? Hypothetically.”
A surprised laugh rolled out of the speaker. “What a weird hypothetical question.”
“Just pretend. Like . . . vampires. What would you do if they were real?”
Will hummed thoughtfully. “I mean, I’d be pumped.
Remember that shirt I used to have?” He laughed again.
“I don’t know. I guess I’d worry about what it meant for the world.
I’d wonder what malevolent forces were in place that had managed to keep them secret for so long.
I’d wonder how ignorant the rest of us were who had no idea they existed.
And, well, selfishly, I’d wonder what it would mean for me.
I’m not sure how I’d be able to wrap my brain around it all without breaking. ”
Leave it to Will to have eloquent, thoughtful answers to Maxim’s dumbest questions.
“And what if you found out that you were dating someone who had dated them?”
There was a pause, and another hum. “I’d be fucking flattered.
I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised”—Maxim snorted at this—“but I’d think that there was a reason they’d want to be with me.
Besides my ruggedly handsome physique and my excellent hypothetical communication skills.
” He paused. “I have to be honest here, though.”
Maxim swallowed, anticipating a question about if he’d had a recent medication change or was experimenting with hallucinogens.
“It feels like you’re mining me for a new character backstory or something. Did you find a group to game with out there?”
“Yeah,” Maxim said, relieved. “Yeah, I did. Some people from work.”
“Right, because nothing says fantastical and emotive creativity like a room filled with lawyers.”
“We can’t all be stuffy history professors, Will.”
“Of course. Some of us have to be stuffy lawyers. What’s the difference between a lawyer and a vampire?”
Maxim smiled, caught off guard. “One’s a cold-hearted blood-sucking monster and the other’s a vampire?”
“Oh. That’s actually better than what I had.”
“What was yours?”
“’There isn’t a difference’.”
Even though Will couldn’t see him, Maxim rolled his eyes. “You’ve got the start of a great joke collection.”
“‘Start’? Please. I already have tomes.” There was a pause, then Will said, “You know you can call me any time, right? Whenever you feel like this. Or whenever you’re happy and just want to have someone to be happy with.”
Maxim traced the edge of a tile with his toe. “Yeah, I know.”
“If I’m teaching, I can always call you back later. I’d rather you leave gruff messages every few weeks than call me once a year with your head completely tangled up.”
In this sort of state, gratitude didn’t come easily, but having a friend like Will made it easier.
“I will. I promise,” Maxim said.
“Excellent. It’s an agreement.”
“Little do you know what you’ve agreed to. I’ve got an entire library of sound effects downloaded, so I have the power to make my voicemails sound like I’m calling you from a farm. Or a tavern. Or a cave.”
“Oh Maxim,” Will said, surely smiling and shaking his head, “I would expect nothing less.”
After they hung up, Maxim plugged in the salt lamp and let it light the hallway in a soft glow as he gathered his dinner together. His stomach no longer roiled and his hands felt steady and solid. Thinking about what Will had said, he frowned.
Why hadn’t his brain broken from all of this?
It wasn’t doing excellent, but here he was, standing in front of his stove and toasting garlic while vegetables baked.
Nothing burning, nothing forgotten on the counter top to spoil, nothing crisping into carbon.
Except for last night, he’d been sleeping well even with earth-crumbling knowledge thrust upon him.
He suddenly remembered his conversation with Jules.“You always knew there was something weird with the world, but then you find out that it’s really, really weird, so you obsess over something that’s comforting and distracting.”
Maxim stared at the little drops of oil bouncing around in the pan.
He knew that when faced with a stressful situation, he tended to focus all of his attention on something else.
And, as was tradition, he’d been hyperfixating on Pippa’s life and troubles and all of the ways he might be able to help her in order to distract himself from the existential dread that lurked around the corner.
He had immersed himself in the world of fantasy and peril as an escape from the real world only to discover that the real world was more fantastic and perilous than he’d ever expected.
It was bigger than he’d ever dreamed, and so much more horrific.
He’d felt like he’d belonged in that fake world of fake demons and fake monsters, but in this real world, it was yet another lash striking him with the knowledge that he didn’t fit in.
Just like when he was a kid, how he’d desperately wanted to be happy or carefree or able to go to a birthday party without taking four hours to decide what present to bring.
He didn’t have power, or anything special, and no matter how much he wished it, he’d never—
One piece of garlic shifted and sent a large drop of oil flying through the air and onto the back of his hand. He hissed in pain and pushed the skillet off the burner, cursing as he ran his hand under cold water.
And Pippa . . .
He clenched his hand under the faucet. He’d been using her.
That’s what it was. He’d always wanted to see himself as someone who helped.
Ever since he was old enough to crack open a book about swords and sorcery, he’d imagined himself as a hero—someone who would make a difference, even if it was from behind a desk or at the front of a courtroom.
But he wasn’t the hero. Pippa was. He’d wanted to help her, and had fooled himself into thinking that it was the way he’d find his own happiness and satisfaction.
That her success would be his, and at the end of the day, he’d be able to fall asleep to the knowledge that he had helped the city, albeit indirectly.
She’d been right when she’d accused him of doing exactly that before, and he’d been a stubborn asshole to not see it sooner.
Maxim bent over the sink, his elbows on the hard counter and his head pressed firmly into his forearms.
He should have just talked to her about everything.
He should have been honest with her instead of lashing out with his own insecurities and telling her that it might be better for her to not belong.
Of all people, she knew what it was like to be an outsider, an observer pressed against the glass desperately wanting to find a way inside.
Maxim set his jaw and straightened. He wasn’t going to let things end like this. He cared for her. No, that wasn’t quite right. He loved her.
A wave of dizziness crashed over him, and he had to brace himself on the edge of the counter.
That’s why this all hurt so much. It wasn’t just rejection, it was the knowledge of unrequited love.
Fuck.
He needed to see her. Not to try and change her mind about choosing the coven over him; that was her decision alone. But even though he’d messed up, what they’d had together deserved more than to be unceremoniously discarded.
He scarfed his food and strode down the hallway to scrub some of the sleeplessness from his skin. Just as he had told himself so many days before, he and Pippa Beverly were not nearly done with each other.