Yield

21. Max

“I’m not ready for this Ryke.” Standing at the top of the double set of stairs, I look up at the monumental building crafted in stonework. Patches of grass frame each staircase with beautiful purple and blue flowers, making this place seem less drab, but it’s hell. Those are hell’s gates and waiting inside will be my estranged husband and legal guardian of five years.

I spoke to Cole twice in the past month. Colleen always has Riley when I get in town. It sucks. I swear she holds it above my head—how much she does for my child. Her snarky comments have lessened as I’ve grown tired of engaging with her. A simple greeting, a gathering of Riley’s belongings, and a destinated time we’ll return are all I’ve mustered up all month.

It’s the same every week. Sunday, I pick her up, and she stays with me till Wednesday. I meet Vince halfway for her return—like I’m renting my flesh and blood out for tea parties. Vince has been the easiest to deal with, out of the three. Cole has her Wednesday evening through Sunday. It didn’t surprise me when Colleen suggested we meet with a lawyer to ensure everything is in order before we go upon the judge. She has her son’s best interest in mind. Every time she told me I was her daughter too, must have been circumstantial. Trust in adults to care for you and watch them pick the veins they created over you, orphan Maxine. I’m not a kid anymore.

I turn to Ryke. “Your support means a lot to me. Thanks for coming with me.”

“No problem. Call me when you’re getting wrapped up.”

I steady my breath, following him with my eyes. He reaches his truck, climbs in, and shuts the door. I patiently wait till he pulls away from the curb to face the last two steps. It’s going to be fine. We already agree on everything. No surprises. It’s fine. Sweat moistens my underarms, but it’s not about Cole or our divorce. The last time I was in a room like this with a lawyer was when I was thirteen years old.

“Mrs. Warren, here is your copy of the agreement. We’ll go over each bullet point.”

“Thank you.” Suddenly, I feel my age. It’s not a sophomore fight or a petty argument. It’s legal paperwork saying that upon our divorce, Cole gets the house and split child support.

“Is it correct that Mr. Warren will take full ownership of the home and all the listed items?”

Furniture, housewares, even the freaking TV is listed…it’s a lot and I’m sure Colleen had something to do with this insanely detailed description. I should have taken more. I’m struggling…and tired…It would be great to know that this is going to work out for the best, but if I’ve come to any life realization…it’s to expect the unexpected. I could be miserable by myself or miserable with someone else, or I could find a true content place. I don’t know unless I try.

“Is that accurate, Mrs. Warren?” The lawyer’s voice snaps me back from a dazed moment. It’s been happening a lot lately. I’m doing a task, but my mind is traveling.

“Um,” I clear my throat. “I believe so.”

“Make sure you are certain before we proceed.”

I nod, reading the section again. Was this necessary? Do they think I’m going to come after him in a month to get the air fryer?

“Yeah. Yes. It’s correct.”

“Okay. The custody arrangement for the child Riley C. Warren is as follows.“ He continues reading, and I get lost, staring at his suit. Gray and structured with round bronze buttons. They have a little symbol on them. It reminds me of a shield, only it’s hidden within slanted lines. It’s vaguely familiar. I’ve seen them before. The complex, unique nature…Where did I see them?

“This agreement is for one year and then will be reevaluated.”

“Yeah, before she begins kindergarten,” Cole replies to the silvery man.

It was in this building…

He wasn’t a silvering man. He was younger with dusty blonde hair, a sparse mustache, and thick, messy brows.

The lawyer present at my parent’s last testament...it was him.

Warmth slowly pools in my chest as I fixate on the button. My knees lock beneath my stiffening body.

I’m…wait…no. No, no, no. Can everyone…can they see the sweat? I’m sweating. I’m so hot.

I hold my arms tight to my sides.

I don’t want to be here anymore. The walls are closing in from every angle. I need to get out.

Why is my mouth so dry? I can’t swallow. I need…I…

“Max? Are you okay?” Why is he asking me that? What is Cole trying to do? Make me look bad? Get more time with Riley? Get full custody? He’s going to take her away. Everyone gets taken away from me. “Max?” Am I breathing weirdly? Shut up, Cole!

“Maxine, drink some water.”

What?

I can’t breathe. Am I hyperventilating?

“I’m taking her outside. She needs a break.”

What? No.

I jerk away as he grabs my arm. Standing anyway, I fall into a spiral, twisting through the fog till I find the hallway.

“Max, let me help you,” Cole insists as I hug the blank wall.

The button-down shirt I’ve only seen him in a handful of times brushes my arm. “Leave me alone, Cole.” I swing, trying to get him off.

“Max, please.”

I ignore him, barreling out the double doors without considering what’s happening behind me—who’s staring, pointing fingers, or making comments. Finally, the sun awakens me. My breathing begins to normalize and I book it to the first tree I spot, a few feet from the steps. Pressing my back against the bark, I close my eyes as I put my butt to the ground.

“Max.”

“Cole, please stop saying my name. I need a minute.”

His shoulder feathers into mine and I feel like a kid who lost everything all over again. I can dress the part of an adult with their shit together—this stupid lavender blouse—but I’m not together. I’m fragments of mixed material without any single bin I belong in. I’m too contaminated to recycle.

“Are you okay?” The soft nature of his voice soothes my soul and breaks my already broken heart. I missed him tremendously—the young man who sat with me under the shade of the Oak tree.

“I don’t want to go back in there,” I mumble, hugging my dim slack-covered legs to my chest.

“Okay…How have you been?” He asks.

“Okay…How are you?”

“Carly convinced me to try out therapy. I’ve been doing that once a week. They have this online thing that’s convenient with Riley being around.”

“I know. I told you about it before.” I hold back the tears that well in my eyes. He chooses to better himself when I leave. I spent years wanting him to change, asking him to do something to help us…and his promises always fell short. I should text Ryke and tell him to come get me. “Can we pick this up in an hour, somewhere outside of that building?”

I pull my phone from my pocket, hastily unlock it, and find my messages. Then I type three letters—N-o-w—and relock it.

“Max, I…”

His eyes reflect mine. We both hate this, but I can’t go back. I can’t do it again. It will be the same as every other time and I’ll break once more. Why is this so hard?

“Don’t. Please, let it go.”

“You’re gonna go through with this?” His mouth gaps and he looks like…like he’s choking back tears.

“It’s already done. We sign that paper and the judge signs one more.” I try to stiffen my quivering lips.

“It’s not over yet. I’m not giving up.” Cole takes my left hand, flipping it palm up, and holds it inside his. “This is permanent. That tattoo doesn’t come off no matter what the papers or legal system says, Max. These are forever.”

My lungs fight me, dragging in more air than I should. I pull away, flicking the hair from my face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you love me.”

The exhaust of a truck pulls his attention. Ryke. He parks along the curb. “That’s my ride. I’ll see you in an hour. Text me the location. Anywhere but inside this building.” I rise and he follows.

“Oh, I see,” he scoffs. “You’ve moved on already.”

“Cole,” I groan.

“No. I knew—” He paces back, and it’s as if he changes his mind, turning back to me. “I knew you had something with this guy.”

“He’s a friend, Cole.”

He scoffingly laughs, running a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Did you sleep with him?”

“Cole!”

It’s all over my face. The guilt. This disbelief that this is happening. This isn’t how I wanted him to find out. It feels like a betrayal. Is it? A broken vow? We broke those long ago when we stopped loving with kindness and only in harsh, painful honesty. We pinned our faults to a corkboard and played darts with them, seeing who could hit the right nerve. We were good at it. So good that we never tried. It came naturally after years of filtered words not expressed.

“Yeah, Max. I hope you get everything you want. Oh, but I already gave that to you and it wasn’t good enough.”

This isn’t fair. None of it. None. Watching him walk away always hurts and…I’m getting used to it. The more it happens, the more I remember why I left. The easier it is to talk through the pain instead of collapsing.

“What happened?” Ryke doesn’t let me get inside the cab before he asks questions.

Where do I start? What happened in the office? What happened that my nice dressy outfit is dirty? Why were Cole’s hands jolting and his body swaying like he didn’t know which direction to go? Why did it look like he was yelling yet not loud enough that you could understand him? Because otherwise, you wouldn’t need to ask.

“In the office or there?“ I close the door and put my seatbelt on, latching it as he answers.

“How about we start with what happened there? He looked…annoyed.” He puts the truck in gear and drives down the road. Did he get a slushy? Anyway…

“Cole found out we fucked,” I say, deadpan.

He chokes on his frozen drink, coughing as he tries to maintain control of the vehicle. “Say it like it’s no big deal.”

I shrug, too overwhelmed to validate his concern. Staring straight ahead, I continue. “I had an episode inside the office and fought Cole the entire way out upon crashing to the ground against a tree.”

“Okay, that’s a checkmark on the public embarrassment card.”

A vocal sigh exits my throat. “I don’t know which is worse. That, or the fact I have to meet up with him in an hour to discuss everything again since we didn’t make it through the first time.”

“Wanna go for a drink?” He grins. “A little something fruity with one of those umbrellas?”

“That doesn’t solve anything.”

“It tastes good.” He pokes me in the ribs.

“Hey, I’m ticklish.”

“In that case…” He pokes me again, making me curl in a laughing fit. I’m pulled out of it with a thud. A little bird bounces off the windshield and flies with the wind, flopping onto the ground.

“You hit a bird.” An airy laugh snorts out of me.

“You’re cruel. Laughing at a poor bird slapping to its demise, peach.” He shakes his head side-to-side. “I expected better from you.”

“You’re the one that hit it.”

“I sacrificed it to the gods for your desire.”

“Which one?” I gripe.

“A cooperative ex-husband, maybe?”

“Okay, spirit animal. I hope it was worth it.”

Cole’s silence is always worse than his anger. It always hurt more when he would go on with his day like nothing had happened. I deserved it today, though. I never wanted him to see me with Ryke. Not now. Not while I’m in this place where I don’t know what Ryke is to me. My client. My boss. My friend…with benefits?

It’s late afternoon, but someone should be at the club. Ryke’s business cards are obsolete with technology now, in my opinion, but the QR code we added that accesses a video that’s only streamable with the card code, is pretty neat. I flip the card around before putting the sleek white square, splattered with red embossed paint back into the container, tucking the lid, and stacking it inside the shipment box. If the first shipment is a hit with patrons, I’ll order more.

I tuck the box between my forearm and chest, closing my truck door. I make my way across the paved lot, reaching out for the handle as I approach the front door. Good, it’s unlocked. I don’t have to go around to the back like usual.

I scan the open floor. It always feels bigger when there aren’t a hundred-some people dancing. The guys must be in the back… Oh. Ryke is right there…at the bar…with a woman. She giggles flirtatiously, stroking his forearm.

Uh… just do it, Max. Drop them off and leave. This is awkward. Do it before he notices me standing here staring and I make it worse.

“Hey.” I walk past him, setting the box on the countertop. “You’re busy. It’s fine. I’ll leave these on the bar and catch up with you later.” Hustling off, I don’t want an explanation. I get it. He’s single and we never had anything serious or defined. I’m going through a divorce. I’m not ready for a new relationship. Yet… I’m jealous. Why did she have to be pretty? And her little black top? I’m wearing baggy mom jeans. Stop, Max. It’s not a competition. We had fun. Now it’s back to business. Keep walking.

“Max, wait.” Footsteps leap after me, barreling through the door before it latches. “Hey, I’m an asshole.”

What?My eyes tell one story and the smile I’m trying to disguise tells another. I only glance back for a millisecond to acknowledge him. “No. It’s fine. We never committed to anything. I’m not even divorced yet.” Okay, that’s enough. Get in the truck. Don’t make it weird.

“Max.” He catches up, gently taking my left hand as I grab the driver’s door handle with my right. His eyes melt over me. “I’ve met a lot of women, talked to a lot of women, but I’m not interested in pursuing anything with them.”

Smoothing my hands down my jeans, I cross them over my chest. “I don’t want you to wait for me.”

“Then tell me you’re ready.”

I can’t settle on his eyes. A wash of nervous uncertainty comes over me…combined with wishing I had my sunglasses from inside my truck.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Be exclusive. That’s all. No life-lasting commitment,” he insists, stepping closer.

“I’m not playing. I have more than myself to think about.” You can’t tell me, there is no chance you will collect feelings for me. He needs to understand the severity of my situation. “It’s not going to be easy. Every day won’t be as good as it is now. I’ve done this before.” How do I explain this? I tap my toe, looking off to the void. “Like…” I swallow, meeting his eyes. “Would you go through hell and back if you thought you could have the slightest chance of being happy with me? Because he did. It didn’t work, but he wouldn’t have walked away…I wouldn’t have walked away without trying everything I could. This is going to be hard, and I might hold it against you if it fails miserably. I don’t want to do that and I’m working on being a better version of myself, but I can’t guarantee I won’t snap at you from time to time. I don’t think I’m ready for this…and neither are you.”

“I don’t know what it’s like to be a parent and work on yourself and a relationship…but when I want something, I’m all in.”

“I’ll think about it…I need to think about it,” I reluctantly agree.

“Best place to think is the treehouse.” His lips pull tight in a half-baked smile. “You can go there anytime you want. Don’t ask.”

“I already mentally stole it, remember?”

His smirk gets me every time. “Of course, I remember. Elephant.” He points to his head. “I’ll talk to you about this later.”

“In the meantime, she’ll leave?” Think brown eyes, not green with envy, Max. It’s too late. He knows I’m jealous.

“Kick her ass to the curb.” He boots his black shooed foot. “She showed up with Tess, by the way.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” I open the truck door and hop in, turning the engine over. Rolling down the window, I call to the man watching me. “Hey, I like the fit.” His mildly baggy black jeans are equally adorable and sexy.

“Go to the treehouse. Go home. Think.” He points and turns, walking back to the building. Ryke does a three-sixty, slowly in my direction just long enough to call out once more. “Think!”

The twenty-minute drive from Ryke’s club to my apartment leaves me more confused and uncertain. What I want and what I need…they’re not the same. Would it be selfish if I followed a want? Would it… But I should… damn it. It’s going to consume my entire day, entire week if I don’t make a decision.

A tractor-trailer pulls up beside me at the traffic light, two miles from my place. A saying painted across the white container catches my attention. On the road to success, there are no shortcuts.

I have to admit, Ryke has rubbed off on me. I’m considering it as a sign or something. When did I start to believe his reasoning?