Chapter 16 #2
Max didn’t move from her spot in the doorway, waiting to hear what else Colleen would say when given the space.
“Annie was born during an unseasonably warm spring in the middle of a once-in-a-generation lightning storm,” Colleen murmured, a humorless smile gracing her lips.
“Now every time it thunders, I can’t help but think of her.
The minute Annie entered the world, the power went out.
She’s such a force, and frankly, that has always scared me.
She’s never had a problem saying exactly how she feels—the phone calls I used to get from her teachers.
” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know where she gets that from.
Andrew, Avery, and Austin were never like that. ”
“I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” The words fell quietly from Max, hanging in the space between herself and where Annie’s mom stood, looking out the window over the yard. “It’s actually one of the things I love most about Annie.”
Colleen turned towards her again, cool, assessing eyes sweeping over her, but Max didn’t flinch.
“It can be enchanting at first, but it’s always been Annie’s biggest barrier to fitting in.
She can’t help herself. When she has a thought, she says it.
Lord knows her father and I tried to nip it in the bud, but Annie has always insisted on doing things her own way. ”
“Maybe she wasn’t meant to fit in here?” Max replied, holding Colleen’s icy blue stare.
She didn’t raise her voice, instead leaning on the military-brat-bred discipline to keep herself completely still.
“Everything you just described as one of Annie’s flaws is exactly why I think she’s incredible.
She’s the most selfless, funny, fiercely honest person I’ve ever met.
She has the biggest heart that you feel the moment you meet her.
Yeah, she can be a little intense, but so can I.
You call her difficult, but all those parts of her that scare you?
Those are my favorite because it’s where her power comes from and I’d hate to see that stifled for the sake of fitting in. ”
Colleen stiffened, her jaw tightening as Max’s words landed cleanly over her. For a long moment, neither woman said anything. The silence in the study was deafening.
Gradually, Colleen dropped the edge from her posture.
“I love my daughter,” she said, voice dipping low into something quiet and genuine, “but I’ve never quite understood her.
I’m glad she has someone like you who does.
She deserves that much.” She smoothed her hands over her white pants, fiddling with her rolled sleeves, not making eye contact.
The wall she had momentarily let Max peek over slid back into place as she stepped forward, brushing past Max.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Maxine, I have a party to host.”
As Colleen reached the top of the stairs, Max called out, “Colleen.”
Annie’s mom paused, looking back at her over her shoulder.
“My name is Max. Not Maxine.”
Those sharp blue eyes, so terrifyingly similar to Annie’s, bore into her for one last silent power struggle before they softened. “Understood. Thank you, Max,” Colleen said with a slight nod, disappearing down the stairs, leaving Max alone once again.
The low whine of hinges alerted Max as she stepped back into the hall, eyes meeting Annie’s where she stood in her doorway, a bag in her hands. Since Max had left her, Annie had removed her makeup, slicked back her hair in a neat bun, and slipped into a long-sleeve shirt and terrycloth shorts.
“Let’s go,” she whispered, her hand sliding into Max’s as she approached. “I want to be literally anywhere but here.”
Max nodded, taking the bag from her and leading her down the back steps where she glanced around the corner and took inventory of the people milling about the kitchen. Lucky for them, not too many; most of the guests had begun to trickle back out into the yard following the storm.
Annie rummaged in a wicker basket for a moment, producing her key ring. She led Max through the connecting mudroom and into the garage. When they got to Annie’s car, she finally asked, “Do you mind if we go to your place? I just want to be somewhere quiet.”
“Yeah, of course. I’ve even got some Baked and Blasted ice cream that has your name on it if you want it,” she said, acknowledging that ever since that one night Annie had shown up at her place and they had shared a pint, Max had made a deliberate effort to make sure she always had some on hand, prepared should the need ever arise again.
“Sounds perfect. Do you mind driving?” Annie smiled weakly, handing her keys over before sliding into the passenger seat.
The thirteen-minute drive between Annie’s parents’ house and Max’s apartment passed in silence.
The two of them quietly occupying the same confined space.
Max didn’t want to push conversation, not knowing the ways Annie liked to work through deeper feelings.
So she hung back and let Annie guide them.
They arrived at her apartment as the sun was beginning to set. The post-storm hues were vibrant against the still-dark clouds, sending streaks of crimson and magenta flooding through the sky. The last sliver of sun wavering for a moment before dipping below the horizon.
“You know,” Max said in a tantalizing tone, attempting to entice Annie. “I get a pretty good view of the town fireworks from my steps, if that’s your thing.”
The pair got out of the car, Max retrieving Annie’s bag from the back seat, holding out her hand as they made their way up the flagstone steps dotted with little American flags Lynn had set out for the holiday.
Annie hummed. “I do love fireworks.”
“I had a hunch. It’s great because I’m far enough away from town that you don’t really hear all the loud explosions; you just get the pretty fireworks, which in my opinion is the ideal viewing experience.”
Annie giggled at her as they entered the apartment, Max setting her bag on the bench inside the door.
She moved into the living room, returning a moment later with her arms full of throw pillows and a blanket from the living room couch, setting up a firework-viewing seat on the top landing of her stairs.
She carefully situated herself, leaving room for Annie to sit between her legs and lean back against her.
Annie sighed deeply, more of her weight settling against Max’s torso as she supported her, placing a soft kiss to her shoulder. They sat together like that, breathing with each other, watching dark indigo spread across the sky, pushing away the remaining remnants of daylight.
“How much of my conversation with my mom did you overhear?” Annie asked when the last of the pinks had faded.
“Not much,” Max responded quickly, wanting Annie to know she hadn’t been eavesdropping on purpose.
“But enough?”
Max nodded. “Enough,” she confirmed, pulling Annie closer as she shifted her weight.
Nine o’clock hit, the first firework shooting into the sky, exploding in a thousand pops of colors raining down in streaky lines.
“See, I told you I had a great view,” Max whispered, her smile pressing against Annie’s cheek as more fireworks were sent high into the sky, bursting in vibrant pinks, yellows, greens, and blues.
“You should have led with this. Would have gladly skipped that party to stay here all night with you, just the two of us.”
Max inhaled deeply, sadness filling her as she remembered the words she had overheard Colleen saying to Annie.
“Yeah, but then what fun would that have been? I wouldn’t have gotten such an amazing opportunity to know you on a deeper level.
” She squeezed her arms around Annie, loving the way their bodies fit together so perfectly.
“Still like what you see?”
“I love what I see.” Max gulped, aware that, once again, an opportunity to tell Annie how she really felt was presenting itself, and this time she had no intention of letting it pass. “Because I love you.”
Annie stilled against her, the faint clap of fireworks echoing in the distance before she twisted in Max’s lap, bringing a hand to cup her cheek, eyes searching Max’s for any sign of doubt or hesitation. She would find none because Max felt none of that—only the way her heart beat for Annie.
“I love you, too,” Annie whispered, kissing her in a way that said everything else her four-word response couldn’t.