Some people wait decades to meet their soul mate. Courtney Kaufman suspects she met hers in high school—only to lose him at seventeen. Since then, Courtney’s social life has been a series of meaningless encounters, though she’s made a few close friends along the way. Especially her roommate, Max Cooper, who oozes damaged bad-boy vibes from every pore.

Max knows about feeling lost—he’s been on his own since he was sixteen. Now it’s time to find out if he can ever go home again, and Courtney’s the only one he trusts to go with him. But the trip to Providence could change everything….

It started out so simple. One misfit helping another. Now Max will do anything to show Courtney that for every heart that’s ever been broken, there’s another that can make it complete.

Also available from Ann Aguirre and Mira Ink

I Want It That Way As Long As You Love Me

The Shape of

My Heart

Ann Aguirre

www.miraink.co.uk

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Book List

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

EPILOGUE

Author’s Note

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

If my life were a romantic comedy, I wouldn’t be the star.

I’d be the witty, wise-cracking friend, telling the Reese Witherspoon character to follow her heart, and I’d be played by America Ferrera, Hollywood’s idea of an ugly duckling. But not conforming to societal beauty standards didn’t cause me any angst; I wasn’t harboring a secret desire to take off my glasses and flip my hair, so my secret love interest would realize I was beautiful all along. In my view, my looks supplied simplicity. Anyone who got with me wanted the real me, no question. Romance ranked dead last on my to-do list at the moment, however.

“You’re too picky,” Max said.

He was curled up on my bedroom floor, skimming emails on his tablet. With her boyfriend’s help, our soon-to-be-ex-roommate, Nadia, was currently carting the last of her belongings downstairs, and the other half of my room was conspicuously empty. I scowled and threw a common cold plushie at his head. He batted it away with impressive reflexes, still scrolling. Since he’d posted flyers around campus, along with his email, Max was handling first contact on the apartment.

“Swap with me. You and Angus can share the master bedroom and then you can put whoever you want next door.”

As expected, he passed with an as-if gesture. “We’ll keep looking. How about this one? ‘Hey, my name is Kara. I’m a physical education major, I work part-time at Kelvin’s and I’m a sophomore. I saw your flyer, and I’d love to meet you guys. My apartment fell through when the landlord sold the place out from under us and now I’m scrambling.’ She seems fine. All the words are even spelled correctly.”

I pretended to mull it over. “Basic language skills are important to me. Put her on the call-back list.”

“You make it sound like we’re casting a movie.”

“This is way more critical,” I reminded him. “This person will be living in my room, potentially watching me sleep.”

“I wish you’d let me help,” Nadia said, coming in to grab the last of her boxes.

Ty, her tall ginger boyfriend, plucked a carton from her arms. His four-year-old son was running around the living room, bothering Angus, who didn’t seem to mind. I waved at both of them but didn’t get up. Truthfully, I was more than a little verklempt over her leaving, even if she was only going downstairs. In the six months since I’d moved in, we’d become good friends. When I moved in, I’d taken over Lauren’s half of the room; she had been Nadia’s best friend from high school, so it wouldn’t have been surprising if Nadia had resented me. Instead she did her best to make me feel at home. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t given us notice that she’d be moving in with Ty. I just hadn’t acted on it because I’d secretly hoped their cohabitation wouldn’t pan out, like maybe she’d realize what a huge step it was to take on someone else’s kid.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m the one who procrastinated.”

Max nodded. “If I hadn’t made flyers, Kaufman here would still be waiting for the perfect roommate to drop out of the sky.”

“It could work. A skydiving roomie would be pretty sweet.”

Ty grinned. “I’d be worried about the rent.”

“The man makes a good point.” Max waved as they left, taking the rest of Nadia’s worldly belongings. “Here’s another possible. ‘Saw your ad. About me: Carmen, drama major, junior. I have no annoying habits and an aversion to being homeless. Email me back!’”

“How am I supposed to choose—”

“She attached a picture.” Max handed me the tablet. “I’m inclined to say yes.”

When I saw it, I knew why. Carmen had long silky black hair, golden skin, big brown eyes and an amazing body. While I’d definitely bang her, I didn’t want her living in my room. The possibility for problems boggled the mind.

Shaking my head, I passed the iPad back. “No way.”

“Why not? She’s perfect!”

“She sent a wet T-shirt contest photo, dude. To random strangers. Does that speak highly of her common sense?”

He sighed. “Not really.”

“I don’t want to come home to someone shooting amateur porn in my room.”

“Are you sure? I’m positive that would look great on a résumé.”

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“Guilty.” Max glanced toward the doorway, where Angus had propped himself like a fashion model.

In different ways, my two roommates were both hot as hell. Blond-haired, green-eyed Angus radiated the moneyed GQ vibe; he was always put together, clean-shaven, well-dressed and delicious-smelling. Max, on the other hand, was a dimpled and scruffy, tattooed, motorcycle-riding hooligan. Right then I had the bad boy and the dream boy in my bedroom, pretty much winning the whole hot-guy lottery, but neither was interested in me. Angus had a boyfriend, and Max always had women blowing up his cell phone. But it wasn’t like I was pining; I hadn’t been in a relationship since Amy, and I wasn’t looking, either. Still, for pure eye candy, it didn’t suck to be me.

“House meeting,” Angus said, sauntering over to flop across the foot of my bed. “Any progress on the roommate issue?”

Hunching my shoulders, I wrapped my arms around another plushie microbe, an adorable ovum this time. “I’m working on it.”

“It’s true. She’s rejected four possibles since I came in.”

I cut Max a look. “You’re not helping.”

“But I’ve been reading emails to you for the past ten minutes.”

Ignoring that, I nudged Angus’s thigh with my foot. “Do you know anyone who’s looking? Preferably not a random stranger.”

“Actually, that’s part of the reason why I’m in here.”

When I bounced, his head jogged on my mattress. “Spill it.”

“I’ve been in pre-med with Kia since freshman year. She mentioned she wants to break up with her boyfriend, but she’s been putting it off because it’ll mean moving out. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to talk to you guys first. But—”

“Is she nice?” I cut in at the same time Max asked, “Is she hot?”

Angus smirked. “Yes and yes. I think she’d make you both happy.”

Then he got out his phone, flipping through the gallery until he found a selfie of him with a pretty African-American girl. She had a great smile, bright and friendly, dark skin and short, natural hair. Sometimes the faces people made in photos gave me a vibe about them, and she seemed like she’d be fun.

I took his cell, brought up her contact info and said, “Call her.”

“You mean I made flyers for nothing?” Max grumbled, but I could tell he was glad to have it settled. Maybe.

He got off the floor and wormed his way between Angus and me. Three people on a twin, probably not what the manufacturer intended. “If you break my bed—”

“Shh. It’s ringing.” Angus frowned at us like we were delinquent children. “Kia? It’s me. Do you have a minute?” That sounded like code for Can you talk freely?

The volume was loud enough for me to hear her reply. “Yeah, I can email you the notes.”

“I get it. Call me back when you can.”

“Whoa,” Max said. “Sounds like the boyfriend’s a controlling asshole.”

Angus nodded. “I’ve been telling her to get out for three months.”

“Is he abusive?” The answer wouldn’t change my mind about rooming with her, but we might need to amp up security around here.

“Depends on your definition. In my view, he’s overly invested in where she goes and who she talks to. And he disapproves of me. A lot.”

“Homophobe?” I asked.

“Young Republican, so...probably? He wears a lot of sweater vests, comes from a conservative political family in the Bible Belt.”

“Ah. He’s lousy with privilege,” Max guessed.

Angus’s phone buzzed then and he grabbed it on the first ring, putting it on speaker. “Kia?”

“What’s up?”

“Is Duncan giving you a hard time today?”

“Always.” She sounded tired.

No wonder. Between the last year of pre-med and a demanding boyfriend, she must be sick of the drama. But we needed to speak up before she said something she’d hate revealing to strangers. “Hey, this is Courtney, one of Angus’s roommates.”

“And I’m Max, the other one.”

“Are we on a conference call?” She sounded amused more than annoyed, so that was a decent start.

“I talked to them and if you really want to dump the D-bag, you can move in here. Courtney would be sharing with you. Want to come over, see if it’s a good fit?”

“Yes, please.” Her response was heartfelt.

An hour later, Kia was on our couch, after a quick tour of the apartment and my half-empty room. She was taller than me, thinner, too, no surprise there, but nowhere near as imposing as Nadia. From listening to her conversation with Angus, I already knew I wanted this to happen. If it didn’t work out and we had to call in Physical Education Kelly, I’d be bummed.

“I feel like I need to be up-front about this,” I said.

Max elbowed me. He thought I was going to tell her that I was bi, but there was no reason to lead with that. Frowning at him, I went on, “I’m a touch OC and I might alphabetize your books and/or CDs if you decide to move in.”

She laughed. “Girl, have at it. That’s not my thing, I don’t have time to obsess. But it won’t bother me if you organize. Just don’t move stuff so I can’t find it.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t come home to find all your makeup sorted by brand.”

“Hey, I’d much rather be sharing with somebody who cleans. My boyfriend doesn’t.”

“You mean your ex?” Angus asked hopefully.

“Give me a few days. Is next weekend soon enough?” Kia pushed to her feet with an inquiring look.

“Yep, it’s great.” I fought the urge to hug her, mostly because it was settled.

“Let’s swap numbers.” Angus forwarded her info before she finished speaking and I sent a test text. Her phone pinged again, suggesting Max had done the same.

Kia grinned. “I guess I don’t have to worry about being welcome. Wish me luck.”

“Dump him.” That was my best encouraging tone.

Max walked her to the door. “Agreed. Dump the crap out of him.”

Once the door closed behind her, I grabbed Angus’s hands and whirled him around in a circle. “She’s perfect. Seriously, thank you. You don’t know how relieved I am.”

“Save the victory dance until she moves in. You never know, Duncan could talk her into giving him a second chance. She’s been on the verge of leaving him for like a year.”

I sighed as the satisfaction drained away. “Now you tell me.”

“You worry too much. If need be, we’ll split the rent three ways until we find the right person. I can manage a month of that, and I know Angus can.” Max slung an arm over my shoulder and hauled me to the sofa. “Come on, let’s shoot stuff.”

Angus ruffled my hair and I pretended to swat him. “Hey. Hands off the purple.”

“Can’t help it, it’s all adorable and spiky.”

My mother called my current look a “punk” phase, and she expressed a devout wish for me to get over it every time I saw her. She hoped I’d trade Doc Martens and cargo pants for dresses that sparkled, grow my hair out and get a nose job. That would never, ever happen. Which bummed my mother out; she’d rather I marry a nice Jewish doctor than become one. Of course, that wasn’t on the table, either. Since I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do, I was studying business, though friends who’d already graduated were telling me I needed to specialize or there was no way in hell I’d find a job.

But the idea of wiping my originality like a dry-erase board for a corporate gig bummed me out. I liked my piercings—at last count I had eight: eyebrow, nose, three in my left ear, two in my right, plus the belly-button ring; I couldn’t remember if my mother had ever seen the latter. Maybe I’d use the money my granddad left me to start my own company, though at this point, I had no idea what product or service I’d offer.

Max bumped me with his shoulder. “Are you playing or not?”

“I’m in.” Picking up the controller, I joined him on-screen, though it pissed me off that in most of these shooters, I always had to play a dude.

“Have fun. I’m out with Del tonight.” The brightness in Angus’s voice told me things were going well, so I just waved as he left, focused on not shooting Max in the back.

We played for an hour before I got hungry. I pushed Pause on the controller and ambled to the kitchen. Max came up behind me, resting his head on my shoulder as I peered into the fridge. Max was exceptionally hands-on with his friends; maybe he didn’t get hugged enough as a kid or something. When I’d first moved in, I thought he was hitting on me, but he thumped and patted Angus about as much, so I went with it.

“Cook something,” he pleaded.

I jabbed him in the gut with my elbow. “Get off me and maybe I will. How do patty melts sound?”

“Like manna from heaven. I speak for all starving college students everywhere when I say, words cannot do justice to your munificence.”

Snickering, I put the ground beef in the microwave. “Calm down, I already agreed to make the food. No need for sweet talk.”

“But it’s fun. Your nose wrinkles when you laugh at me.”

I fought the urge to cover said nose. Some girls could do adorable bunny wriggles, but mine was too long—beakish, according to an ex who’d had enough of my shit. As personal problems went, however, it wasn’t exactly original. There were tons of other Jewish girls in the same situation; I wasn’t special. In fact, I probably wasn’t even the only princess rebelling with piercings and alt-hair. So I made a face instead of revealing that he’d made me feel self-conscious for a few seconds. On two occasions, Max and I had made out. Both times, we were messed up emotionally and it was good that we’d confined the rebound sex to kissing. Otherwise it might be tough to fry meat while he talked about the work he was doing on his motorcycle.

“Wait, I thought you were done?”

He sighed at me. “The mechanical overhaul is done, but now I’m working on cosmetic restoration. I can’t stop until it’s finished.”

“The fate of the world hangs in the balance?” I teased, shaping the thawed meat into patties. Next I sliced up some onions to caramelize.

“I promised somebody, that’s all.” His expression was strange and serious, unlike the guy I’d known for three years.

But Max was...odd. Like, he gave the impression he was all jokes, all about the party, but then he flipped a switch and revealed a glimpse of the real person underneath. In all honesty, I was much more interested in that guy—the serious, smart, intense one. Most people had no idea he was a mechanical engineering major, which required knowledge of physics, thermodynamics, kinematics, structural analysis and electricity. And hell, I only knew that because I looked it up on Wikipedia after finding out what he was studying.

“That sounds like a story,” I said quietly.

He held my gaze for two beats, then looked away. “I guess it is.”

Message received.

I finished our food and we ate in front of the TV, then went back to killing things in the game. But by nine, I was bored. I put down the controller, stretching my stiff muscles in an exaggerated arch of my back. “Okay, I’m done.”

“Don’t go,” he said.

“Huh?” Startled, I swung back toward the couch, catching a bleak, sad look in his dark, dark eyes.

It was like realizing a friend had been hiding raw slashes under their sleeves all this time. His thick lashes swept down, covering the expression, but it was too late. I can’t unsee it. My chest felt tight with indecision. If I made a joke, he’d take his cue from me, and it would be like this never happened. Maybe that would be for the best.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” I answered.

“We could go for a ride.”

To me, it seemed like Max didn’t want to be alone tonight. He rode his bike when he was running from something, but he’d never invited me along. There was no excuse to refuse since classes hadn’t started up again. I made a snap decision.

“Okay, let me get a jacket.” My pants and concert T-shirt were fine, so I added boots and a hoodie with a skull on the back.

“That was fast.” He jiggled his keys with one hand and grabbed me with the other, yanking me out of the apartment and down the stairs. As we approached his bike, he asked, “Have you ever ridden one of these before?”

“What do you think?” I was curious what he’d say.

“Probably...yes.”

“You are correct, sir. Don’t worry, it’s not my first time.”

“If you knew how happy it makes me to hear that.” He flashed a flirty grin over one shoulder, but I identified it as bullshit.

The wounded eyes? Those were real. Not this. So I put on the helmet and wrapped my arms around his waist, content to be the warm body on the back of his bike. I didn’t need to be beautiful to be a friend when he needed one.

Just for a few seconds, he set his hands over mine, where they rested on his abs. “Hold on tight. I’m about to show you something amazing.”

CHAPTER TWO

“Where the hell are we going?” I yelled.

Max didn’t answer, but he turned off the highway, so the going got much rougher, and I tightened my arms around his waist. We bounced along for another mile, following the natural curve of the road. Before I saw the rapids, I heard the rush of the river, audible as the motorcycle dropped to lower idle. He parked the bike and I swung off, unnerved by the complete darkness. Without speaking, he led me through a tangle of branches.

“If you want to freak me out, it’s working.”

“Trust me.” His fingers folded around mine, and I clutched tight.

∆Out here there was only the fast-moving water, the wind through the leaves and the chirp of insects. When we emerged from the trees, my breath caught. The sky opened up before me in an endless stream of stars with the river cascading below, tumbling over the rocks in a burst of white foam. Moonlight shimmered on the water, a fairy trail luring men to their doom, if you believed in old legends.

“Wow. How did you find this place?”

“I drive around at night...a lot.” He wore a contemplative look as he added, “‘It is Earth’s eye—looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.’”

“Did you seriously just quote Thoreau?” I didn’t mean to sound so surprised since I knew as well as anyone that Max was smarter than he let on.

“Are you judging a book by its cover?”

“Sorry, reflex. Please continue astounding me with your big brain.”

“No, now you went and made me self-conscious. But just look... It’s amazing, right?”

I nodded. “Just like you promised.”

“Come out, just a little farther.” He led me onto a rise overlooking the river. “I sleep out here sometimes.”

“Nadia’s convinced you’re hooking up or crashing at the garage when you don’t come home.” It was weird saying that to a guy, like we were family or something, but sometimes it actually felt as if we were.

“The garage office reeks of oil and sweaty ass.”

“I can see why you’d prefer it here, though I’d probably wet my pants the first time an owl hooted. Is that a thing?”

“Yes, there are owls here, city girl.”

“Hey, I was born in Chicago, and my mother is opposed to camping on principle. ‘Our people have wandered the wilderness long enough and from now on, we sleep in warm beds.’”

“She sounds opinionated.”

“You have no idea.”

“Sit down. Unless you’re scared.”

“No, I’m okay.” Though I wasn’t quite sure why he’d brought me out here, I couldn’t deny that it was beautiful. I plopped down beside him, crossing my legs in a crooked Lotus pose.

Max let out a shaky breath, staring out at the river. He was careful not to look at me. “I got a call from my dad today.”

From what I knew of Max—not a whole lot, granted, as he didn’t talk much about his past—that was a huge deal. In the three years we’d been hanging out, he’d never mentioned his family. “Yeah?”

“My grandfather died.” His tone gave me no clue how to react, and the shadows were too deep for me to read his expression.

“Okay, so is this a ‘wow, I’m so sorry’ moment, or more ‘thank God the old bastard’s finally gone’? Give me something here, Max.”

He sat in silence for a few moments. “Little from column A, little from column B. See, I come from a long line of violent assholes. Good drinkers, too, proud, easily offended, even though none of us have ever amounted to shit.”

“Looks to me like that streak ends with you.” I put my hand on his where it rested on his knee, and he leaned toward me. Not going for a kiss but to rest his head on my shoulder.

“You always know what to say.” His voice was softer, warmed by my smooth talk.

“So what’re you doing about the funeral? Do you want me to help you pick out a floral arrangement or something?”

“No, that’s the thing. I brought you out here, hoping the incredible scenery would make you willing to do me a favor.”

“What’s that?” He had no pets and no classes yet that I could audit for him and take notes. So I was drawing a blank as to what Max could possibly need from me.

“I was hoping you’d come home with me. To Providence.”

“What? Why?” Those were the first of many questions to sputter out of me.

“I haven’t been back since I went away to school, and I can’t be alone with my dad, not even for a minute. It...won’t be good.”

I submerged the impulse to ask, Isn’t there anyone else? Because I knew the answer already, and I wouldn’t force-feed him that vulnerability on top of the shit sandwich life had already forced him to sample. But I couldn’t just pack a bag and ride off without some basic fact-finding. “How long will we be gone?”

“It’s a twelve-hour drive, but we’ll take regular breaks since you aren’t used to a long haul on the bike. I’m guessing five days, including travel.”

“Wait, we’re taking the motorcycle all the way to Rhode Island?”

As he turned his head, the moon popped out from behind a cloud, illuminating his smile. “You said we. So I guess so.”

“If I’m crazy enough to do this, you owe me some insider info on why.”

“Why?”

“You know what I’m asking. Why can’t you be polite long enough to put your grandfather in the ground? Or whatever you shegetz boys do.” I spoke the last sentence in a teasing tone.

Max got out his phone and turned it on, bright enough to startle me, then he pushed back the tumble of black hair, revealing a thin white scar. The screen flickered off, leaving me with the impression of his tan skin, dark eyes and the mark in sharp contrast. “I got that from my dad when I was eleven. Beer bottle. He chucked it, I didn’t duck in time.”

“Damn.”

“It’s not the only childhood souvenir.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “But that’s not why I can’t forgive him.”

“What happened?”

“Right now, I need an answer. Will you come?”

Angus and I didn’t have jobs, unlike Max and Nadia. Even if they disapproved of me, my parents still sent a regular allowance and paid my tuition. So there was no reason I couldn’t go to Providence with him; I just wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Some intuitive part of my brain sensed that it would change everything.

“Okay,” I said.

“Thanks so much, Kaufman. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Because you don’t want to miss the services?”

Max shook his head. “My brother will be there.”

Before I could ask, he pushed to his feet, dusted off his ass and offered his hand. I took it and let him tow me upright. We retraced our steps back to the bike as I pondered how bad this was likely to be. My family might not be perfect, but nothing like this; it was only a matter of me refusing to conform to expectations, and my mother’s weapon of choice was guilt. He swung onto the motorcycle and I got on after him, troubled for reasons I couldn’t articulate.

The ride back to the apartment felt faster, probably because I knew where we were going. Angus still wasn’t home, so I just nodded a good-night to Max and headed to my huge, half-empty room. He surprised me by following, pausing in the doorway as if waiting for an invite.

“You can come in,” I said.

“I wasn’t sure. But I just wanted to tell you to be ready by seven.”

“Oh, my God. It’s already midnight. Go to bed, Max.” After setting my alarm, I got ready, packed a backpack and followed my own advice.

In the morning, Max tapped on my door as I was lacing up my boots. I’d packed a black dress and some flats, along with clean panties and a few spare T-shirts. The cargo pants would have to last until we got back. Fortunately, riding on the back of his bike wouldn’t even faze my hair, no need for curling iron or straightener. That made it easier to travel light.

“Ready?” he asked as I stepped out.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Thanks.”

“You said that last night.”

“I want to be sure it comes across. There’s no way I could go back by myself.”

A small, curious part of me noticed that he didn’t say home but it seemed like the wrong time to dig into his motivations. Pausing in the kitchen, I rearranged the fridge magnets to read: Gone. Back Later. I’d text Angus at a more respectable hour and explain the situation, assuming this wasn’t top secret for reasons unknown to me.

“We can’t do this in one day,” Max said as he stuffed our bags in the top box. “Or you’ll be too sore to move afterward.”

“Promises, promises.” It was the sort of joke I always made, expecting him to goof back with me.

Max paused, frowning. “I don’t think that’s hot. Or funny.”

“Huh?”

“Fucking a woman so hard it hurts her. The idea makes me sick, actually.” That was more sincerity than I generally got from Max in a week, but it was too early for me to parse.

“There’s a difference between being pleasantly tender, the result of good, rough sex, and crawling away from the bedroom all bruised and bloody.”

“I know, sorry. That’s just...one of my hot buttons.”

Pausing, I wondered about that story, but it wasn’t the time to ask. “No problem. Shall we roll out?”

The weather was perfect for taking to the open road, sunny sky in summer blue, not a cloud in sight. After two hours on the bike, I understood what he meant, though. It wasn’t like riding in a car; my arms were tired from holding on to him and my ass was numb, both from the pavement and the vibrations. Just past ten in the morning, he pulled off at a rest plaza in Ohio. The place was huge, almost like an auto-mall, plenty of parking, three fast food places, picnic tables, a strip of green for pets. I stumbled as I swung my leg over, and it hurt when I straightened my back; I had been leaning forward, pressed against Max for too long.

“Sorry. I should’ve stopped sooner. You hungry?”

“Yeah. I didn’t have anything before we took off.”

“Me, either.”

“I need the bathroom first, so I’ll meet you in the food court.”

I used the facilities, washed my hands and stopped, drawn by my reflection. Mirrors were too honest, showing me a woman with a sharp nose and deep-set eyes. I used the purple hair to distract from my face, like a male bird strutting his colorful plumage. My body wasn’t bad, though I carried extra weight in trunk and saddlebag. I’d long since come to terms with the fact that I didn’t attract looks from across a crowded room. In fact, I was pretty used to being the grenade a wingman would fall on in order to give his buddy a shot at my hot friend.

But on a global scale, problems like that were minuscule, and I was smiling when I found Max waiting with my favorite breakfast sandwich. Pretending to check it over, I sat down across the table from him. “Hmm. Bacon. Egg. Cheese. This passes inspection.”

“Glad to hear it. I didn’t know if you wanted coffee or juice so I got both.”

“Then I’ll drink both. How’re you holding up?”

“You make me sound decrepit. We haven’t been riding that long.”

Dropping my voice, I leaned forward, as if I was about to whisper a dirty secret. Max met me halfway. “I meant emotionally.”

“Oh. Then I’m wrecked.” The flat tone belied the truth I glimpsed in his eyes. “I don’t even know if my brother will talk to me.”

“What happened?”

“You want my sad life story in a travel plaza?”

Put that way, it sounded wrong, but I couldn’t deny my curiosity. So I ate my breakfast sandwich and followed him back outside, where I stretched for, like, five minutes. Max did the same, then we continued the trip. Though he was considerate and stopped every two hours so I could move around, by the time we hit the middle of Pennsylvania I was ready to call it quits. I’d have paid big money for a hot tub, but we stopped at an interstate motel, no Jacuzzis to be had, and I’d rather eat a bug than risk a yeast infection by soaking in a strange bathtub.

Max offered to spring for my room, but it seemed stupid for him to pay double. “Just get one with two beds. It’s not a big deal.”

“Thanks. I’m doing this on a shoestring budget.”

I could’ve told him that I had plenty of money and a decent limit on my plastic, but I suspected he’d be offended. It was a point of pride for Max to pay my way since he’d asked me along for reasons I didn’t entirely understand. Arms crossed, I waited by the motorcycle while he went into the office, and when he came out, he had the room keys.

“Come on, we’re around back.”

Climbing on the bike made me wince, so I could only imagine how I’d feel tomorrow. Worth it for a friend, I told myself. Max parked and handed me the keycards.

“Go on up, I’ll bring dinner. Are you in the mood for anything in particular?”

I shook my head. “Get my backpack? I’ll shower while you’re gone.”

“Good idea.”

“Some women might find that offensive, Cooper.”

“You know what I mean.”

Grinning, I took my bag and jogged stiffly up the rusted external steps. This place was a step down from a Red Roof Inn, and the room was about as depressing as I expected: dated decor in overly bright hues with hutch, tiny dining set and grubby, striped arm chair. But at least there was a coffeepot and a relatively new TV. Usually the smell gave away the worst places, and this only gave off a musty scent, like a room that had been closed up too long. The windows didn’t open so I turned on the air conditioner, which banged to the point that I imagined tiny gnomes inside the radiator with wee hammers. The added ventilation helped, though, and I got my pajamas, then went into the bathroom.

Water pressure was decent, and I took my time scrubbing off the road dust. By the time I came out, drying my hair on a scratchy towel, Max had pizza and beer waiting at the chipped table. He’d seen my pj’s countless times before, so he didn’t blink as I came over to get a slice of extra cheese, extra mushrooms and peppers.

“No meat?” I asked.

“Seems safer this way since we’re traveling tomorrow.”

I grinned. “Your forethought is both impressive and disturbing.”

The pizza wasn’t bad for a random dive, certainly not the worst, though it didn’t compare to the deep-dish Chicago-style I’d grown up on. After dinner, I propped up on my bed and checked my phone for the first time all day. I had a text from Angus and two from my mother. Angus had just replied with Finally eloped with Max, huh? Name your firstborn after me. Boy, girl or other, doesn’t matter. Make good choices! Sighing, I read the maternal messages next.

Ma, text one: Why aren’t you picking up?

Ma, text two: Where are you? I tried the house phone. Are you avoiding me?

Yes. That’s the only reason I wouldn’t answer.

She hadn’t wanted me to move out of the dorms until I told her my roommate was into illegal drugs. Then she’d supported the apartment idea wholeheartedly. Since she regarded spontaneity as her nemesis, she’d be pissed about this trip. I could hear her already: Vacations should be planned, Courtney. You can’t just take off this way.

I typed back, I’m hanging out with a friend. What’s up? That was sort of true, right?

“Everything okay?”

“Hmm?”

“You look pissed.”

“It’s just my mother, trying to track my movements. I’m surprised she hasn’t chipped me like a Chihuahua. Though if she has, you’ll probably be arrested for kidnapping.” I smirked, rubbing the back of my neck as if searching for parental hardware.

He paused with a slice halfway to his mouth. “You know, that sounds like it sucks, but I also wonder what it would be like to have a parent so...invested.”

“Your mother’s not around?”

“She died when I was five, having my brother. Amniotic fluid embolism. I was fourteen before I even knew what that meant.”

I still don’t. Mentally I made a note to look it up on Google ASAP. “So your brother’s sixteen? What’s his name?”

Max nodded. “Michael, but everyone calls him Mickey. Or...they did. I haven’t seen him since my dad kicked me out.”

“Wait, what?” I figured he’d just put up with a shitty home life until he got accepted at Mount Albion, and then he was all Sayonara, suckers.

“Yeah. I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen.”

“Did things get worse with your dad?” I asked.

“You could say that,” Max said quietly. “That was when I put my brother in a wheelchair for life.”

CHAPTER THREE

So many questions ricocheted around my brain, but Max’s shoulders were pulled up almost to his ears, his chin nearly on the table. Without looking at me, he shredded the napkin in his hands into four pieces and then in half again. The waning sunshine streaming in the smeared window behind him haloed his dark hair, so that the highlights shone blue instead of tawny or copper.

“You don’t have to tell me a bedtime story,” I said gently.

“No, you need to know. So you understand what’s going on and why it’s so tense when we get there.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’ll set the stage.” His tone was brittle, uneven, and the bits of paper in his hands kept getting smaller. “I was sixteen, just got my license. My dad was drinking, acting like a fuckhead. Business as usual. When he started in on Mickey, I grabbed the keys. Figured I’d get us both out of there for a while. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but taking off is kind of my specialty.”

“Between your bike, the garage office and the place you showed me by the river, I’ve picked up on the pattern, yeah.”

“I thought I was doing the smart thing, you know? But I was driving too fast and some asshole blew the stoplight. T-boned us. Mickey got the worst of it...weeks in the hospital without knowing if he’d make it. Then, once he stabilized, we found out he’d never walk again.” He curled a fist and slammed it onto the table, making the pizza box dance. “Ironic, huh? I was worried that my dad would hurt Mickey but I’m the one who—”

“Not true,” I cut in. “That’s a textbook accident. Don’t tell me you blame yourself.”

“It’s impossible to do anything else. No, wipe that look off your face, Kaufman. I didn’t open up to make you feel sorry for me. I just want you to know the deal going in. I mean, my dad’s the biggest asshole I ever met and he hates me, too.”

“What about Mickey?”

“We weren’t talking much when I left. Every day I think, what if I’d put up with my old man’s shit for five minutes more? What if I’d picked a fight with him instead of grabbing those keys? I—” His voice broke on a shuddering inhalation.

Until this moment I hadn’t realized how much weight Max carried on a daily basis or how good a job he did hiding it. I came out of my chair and rounded the little table before I consciously decided to make a move. Standing beside him, I hovered, unsure what to do. He answered the question by wrapping both arms around my waist and pulling me onto his lap. Unsettled—unnerved, even—I let him press his face into my shoulder, resting a hand on his head.

His breath warmed the skin of my throat, rousing an inappropriate shiver. Now is not the time. It wasn’t like I’d never noticed his hotness; he specialized in a scruffy, soulful appeal that women of all ages seemed unable to resist. But it was so much better for him to call me Kaufman and confide in me instead of flirting. At the moment, Max needed a friend. I stroked his back for like five minutes before he raised his gaze to meet mine.

“Sorry. The closer we get to Rhode Island, the worse I feel.”

“It’s understandable. You have to be worried about how your brother will react when you see him.” The rest of his family sounded like jackwagons. Though he’d only told me about his dad, if he had any decent aunts, uncles or cousins, they would’ve stepped up when his old man went upside his head with a bottle. A scar like that would take eight or ten stitches, minimum. I imagined Max as a scared kid with blood gushing from his scalp, and all of my protective instincts roared to life. People had been calling me a bitch since I was fifteen, and I was ready to wade in against Max’s family. Yeah, the funeral might be tense and shitty, but if his family said one fucking word—

“You’re looking especially fierce.” Max was smiling slightly, his head cocked in apparent fascination.

It was interesting that my expression could distract him. “Just contemplating all the ways I can kick ass and take names.” With a last twirl of fingers in his hair, I slid off his lap. “Your leg must be asleep, huh?”

Max was on the lean side, and I suspected I weighed as much as he did, possibly more. In his case, the weight was also stretched along eight additional inches. But he just shrugged and shook his head. If I wasn’t mistaken, a touch of color also burned high on his cheekbones. Wow, never thought I’d see him blush.

Clearing my throat, I moved away, taking my half-eaten slice of pizza to the bed I’d dumped my backpack on. I bounced onto it, completely casual, as if we hadn’t just been sharing deep emotional stuff. Max silently threw away the napkin he’d shredded and went into the bathroom. The shower switched on, resulting in an awesome banging of pipes. I pictured them breaking through the wall and flooding the floor. By the time he came back barefoot, wearing a ratty T-shirt and sweats, I had the TV on, watching a bad action movie.

“Oh, this. I’ve seen it eight times.” His offhand tone told me we were good.

“Then line it up for number nine.”

“Hey, Kaufman...”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Stop. Your boundless gratitude is freaking me out.”

“Okay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. So obviously I’ll proposition you instead, get us back on familiar footing.”

I grinned, wadding up a piece of paper from the pad next to me and chucking it at him. “I’m not making out with you.”

“Does that mean sex without kissing is off the table?”

“Definitely. So far off, it’s out the door, chained up in the backyard.”

He let out a mock-wistful sigh. “Poor coitus. What did it ever do to you?”

“It was the best of sex, it was the worst of sex...”

Max laughed, and it felt fairly glorious to bring him to this point so soon, relatively speaking, after he’d told me about the accident. “Are you butchering Dickens in a subtextual pun or am I reaching?”

“That depends,” I said.

“On what?”

“If you thought it was funny.”

“Definitely.” He shot me the lazy grin that crinkled his eyes and displayed a dimple.

Okay, stop being adorable, Max. It’s bothersome.

“Then it was definitely on purpose. But why do you recognize a misquote of A Tale of Two Cities, science-engineering person?”

“I read.”

“Dickens? Really? I disbelieve.” I pretended to roll some dice. “Natural twenty! Now tell me the truth or I’ll resort to drastic measures.”

“Okay, Dickens was compulsory. It’s not on my summer fun list.”

“And what is?” I couldn’t remember if I’d ever seen him with a book, but he did fiddle with phone and tablet a lot, so he might be reading that way. “Fictionwise, I mean.”

“Oh, and here I planned to share all the freaky places I did it in August.”

“Max.” I infused his name with a warning tone, so that I sounded uncannily like the rabbi’s wife, back when I still went to synagogue.

“Fine. My favorite genre is horror, but I also like sci-fi, fresh and edgy stuff, not boring white guys saving the universe and banging space hotties.”

Surprise popped up like a weasel. Great, now I had that kids’ song stuck in my head. “Wait. You read mostly genre fiction? Max Cooper. You’re a secret geek.”

“Don’t tell anyone, ’kay? Not that they’d believe you.” He flipped up his shirt to reveal tasty abs. Not mega ripped but taut and fine with delicious V-lines revealed by loose sweats. “I mean, just look at this package.”

Fortunately, my brain had never let me down, no matter how much sexy, muscled, yummy tan bod was on display. “If you have to ask a girl to inspect your package, you work for UPS or you’re trying too hard, bro.”

He smirked. “I don’t like how you call yourself a girl. It’s demeaning.”

“Hey, I’m allowed to say it. Dudes aren’t.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

We stopped talking after that, but the silence didn’t thrum with badness. Max seemed as okay as he could be, considering he was on his way to bury his grandfather and see his brother for the first time in five years. And that didn’t take into account his asshole dad or the extended family, who might make his life hell for the next two days. Though we had another long day of riding ahead of us, I was looking forward to sitting behind him on the bike more than our arrival. The shit might really hit the fan then.

Before ten, I passed out on top of the covers and didn’t know anything until a pained sound roused me, however many hours later. Shoving up on an elbow, I glanced around in confusion. This isn’t my room, that isn’t Nadia... What—oh. Max. He writhed in the bed next to mine, an arm lashing at the mattress, and he was bathed in sweat.

That’s definitely a bad dream.

This was so far outside my jurisdiction—then again, maybe not. He’d invited me along, knowing we’d be in close quarters for the duration of the trip. So possibly he’d foreseen this development and didn’t entirely mind? Whatever. When he snarled an unintelligible curse, I rolled out of bed and crossed to his, perching on the edge.

“Max. Wake up. You’re bothering me.” That was the first thing that popped into my head, but it didn’t rouse him.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.”

The pure anguish in his voice told me he was reliving the accident. There was no way to know if talking about it summoned the dream or if this happened fairly often. For as much as we hung out at home, I’d never slept in the same room with him. Sucking in a breath, I rested my hand on his head, brushing the damp strands away from his brow. With the light from the sign outside illuminating his face, I saw a tear trickle from the corner of his eye, something I never imagined, ever.

Fuck me. Max cries in his sleep.

My heart twisted in my chest, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning down, touching my forehead to his. That was enough to rouse him, thank God. He blinked up at me blearily, his hands unclenching. “You okay?”

“Bad dream. Scoot over.” Since he wasn’t even fully awake, he mumbled as he did. I fell asleep with my back against his.

Hours later, I stirred in increments, then snapped alert when I realized Max was spooning me. His arm was strong and warm across my waist, hips snug against my ass, and I felt each slow breath into my hair. Well, crap. No good deed, and so on. It seemed unlikely that I could get away without disturbing him. The bedside clock read 5:45 a.m., so it was still mostly dark. As I shifted, he tightened his hold and nuzzled my neck. Obviously, it felt incredible, but it had been eight months. These days it didn’t take much to turn me on. But I wasn’t a shy virgin trembling with fear that he’d ravish me. So I lifted his arm and crawled out of bed. Max was rubbing his eyes when I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get dressed.

“Okay, did I imagine—”

“Nothing happened.” I wasn’t about to tell him that he was crying in his sleep so I figured I better go on the offensive. “My bed had janky springs, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh. Anyone ever tell you your hair smells like lemons?”

“That’s the top-notch motel shampoo.”

“Couldn’t resist me, huh? This always happens, sooner or later. Should we just do it already, defuse the sexual tension?”

“As if. You were on my side of the bed. There are Russian hitmen who would pay big money to spoon this.” I slapped my ass with a teasing grin and yanked the covers off him. “Come on, get up.”

He immediately grabbed a pillow, going for basic crotch camo. “Are you kidding?”

“Oh. You already are. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I have to pee,” he mumbled.

“Take your time. If you need me to step out, so you can—”

“So help me, Kaufman, if you don’t stop talking, right now, I’ll make you.”

Smirking, I did a taunting little dance, hip swivel and half turn. “Sure you will. What, you gonna kiss me? Now, that’s original. Besides, I’m way too good at it, remember? Pretty soon you’ll be dry humping me and then come all over yourself. Let’s not go down that road.”

He scrubbed a palm across his face. “It’s too early for this.”

“Exactly my point.”

Max slammed the bathroom door after stomping past me. He was in there long enough with the water running for me to consider teasing him, but honestly, what a guy did in the shower stall of a crappy motel bathroom was between him and the tiny soap. So I didn’t say anything as we packed up and headed out to the bike. But I was thinking about it, wondering a little, when I swung on behind him and nestled close.

I could get used to this.

Of course, introducing my mother to Max might trigger the coronary she was always threatening to have, whenever I did something worthy of parental disapproval. Which was pretty much my entire life to date. She claimed she was in danger of a stroke when I came out as bisexual. In fact, my dad argued with me on the subject; he said that wasn’t even a thing and that I probably just wasn’t ready to admit I was gay yet—not that he wanted me to. So if I could just go quietly back into the closet and confine my sexual identity questions to watching interesting internet porn, that would be great. He didn’t say that, of course, but over the years, I’d gotten great at reading between the lines. Conversations with my family were pretty much always frustrating for various reasons.

“You good to go?” Max asked, starting the engine.

“Yep, let’s do this.”

Like the previous day, we rode in two-hour increments, stopping to rest so my muscles didn’t lock up. Max grew progressively tenser the closer we got to Rhode Island, and when we crossed the state line, his back felt like a brick beneath my cheek. Since I could only touch his abs, it seemed weird to rub his belly as if he was a spaniel and I was trying to make his back leg kick. As we rolled into Providence, he pulled into a gas station parking lot. The area didn’t look awesome, but I didn’t protest. I figured he needed a minute. Max disappeared inside for over ten minutes, and when he came out, he had on dress slacks, a wrinkled button-up and the ugliest tie I’d ever seen in my life.

“The wake’s already started,” he said.

“Then I should go change.” I hadn’t realized we were going straight to the funeral home.

Without another word, I took my backpack and did my best to look respectable in my black dress and ballet flats. Short of dyeing my hair and removing all my piercings, I figured I’d done the best I could, then I had to get back on the bike in a skirt. I hadn’t thought of that when I was packing. There was no way to ride sidesaddle, so I tucked the fabric.

Max took off, gunning the throttle, and I could practically sense his tension. Fifteen minutes later, we stopped outside a run-down-looking funeral parlor called Cavanaugh and Sons. The building had clearly seen better days, pitted with wind and rain, and grass grew up through cracks in the sidewalk. Most of the businesses nearby had bars across the windows; the rest were vacant buildings.

“It’s worse than I remembered,” he said, pulling off his helmet.

Max took a couple of deep breaths, and I put my hand over his heart, feeling the way it raced at the idea of facing his family. As I stared up at him, his gaze locked on my face. I metered my breathing to his, willing him to calm down. You can’t start this way. It’ll go up in flames sooner rather than later.

“Whatever happens in there, I’m on your side. You know that, right?”

“My dad would punch me in the face for bringing you to fight my battles.”

“He sounds like a catch. Has he remarried? I’m thinking I might have a shot.”

“Don’t even joke,” he snapped.

“Sorry. The more nervous I get, the closer I come to doing standup. You should’ve been at my bat mitzvah.”

“Did you wear a frilly dress?”

“And combat boots.”

Smiling, Max pulled my hand off his chest and pressed it to his cheek for one beat, two. “You make me feel like this might be okay. Somehow. Come on. Let’s go meet the family.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Inside, the funeral home was cramped.

We stepped first into a small foyer with worn red carpeting, dusty silk floral arrangements set on tables to either side. I fought a sneeze as Max took my hand and led me into the chapel. A few white folding chairs were set up, but not too many, as most people were standing around in clusters, wearing their Sunday best and talking in low voices. Before, I’d only attended Jewish services, so this should be interesting from a cultural perspective.

There was a clear pathway with a runner leading up to the casket, arrayed with pictures, flowers and mementos to one side. Wearing a determined look, Max pulled me along, not stopping until we reached the coffin with the old man inside. From the look of him, he’d definitely lived a full life, complete with alcohol abuse, judging by the veins in his nose, poorly covered by the morbid makeup artist who worked for Cavanaugh and Sons. There were also plenty of wrinkles and liver spots. Reflexively, I took a step back, ostensibly to give Max room, but really I was getting away from the weirdness of staring at a dead person I’d never met.

Granting him some privacy, I turned away, taking stock of the crowd. There were middle-aged women in polyester dresses, bored men talking sports in low tones. Nobody seemed particularly broken up; I didn’t see an elderly woman weeping like a bereaved widow. But across the room, I spotted a young man in a wheelchair, and he looked uncannily like Max, except for the upper-body strength. Max was lean, and he definitely wouldn’t win at a gun show. This guy might compete in the Paralympics or something.

I put a hand on Max’s shoulder. “I think your brother’s watching us.”

He whirled, scanning the room with hungry, worried eyes. Then his gaze locked onto Mickey—I was that sure of his identity—and the guy wheeled toward us. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah. How’ve you been?” From the flash in Max’s dark eyes, he thought it was a stupid fucking thing to say, and he was already kicking himself, but it wasn’t like these occasions came with a manual.

Before Mickey could answer, a man shouldered through the crowd toward us. He was maybe an inch shorter than Max with hard eyes and cuts on his jaw that suggested he’d shaved with an unsteady hand. I might be jumping to conclusions, but they looked like the result of sobering up suddenly, after a long bender. I put his age around fifty, so he might be Max’s dad.

“Can’t believe you showed. I bet your uncle Lou ten bucks you wouldn’t have the balls.”

“Enough, Pop.” Mickey confirmed my speculation with two words. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

A blonde woman joined the group then, wearing a worried look. “Is that you, Max?”

“Hey, Aunt Carol. Thanks for the email.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek.

She didn’t seem like a horrible person at first glance, so I wondered why she hadn’t protected Max back in the day. I noticed nobody was hugging him, though, or touching him at all. I finally understood why he was so tactile; it was reactionary, like bingeing on chocolate after a strict diet.

Clearing my throat, I offered my hand for her to shake. “I’m Courtney.”

His dad skimmed me up and down, then his lip curled. “She must have money. I guess you’re not a total idiot. Cash lasts way longer than a pretty face, and all cats feel the same in the dark, am I right?”

Wow. That wasn’t the first time I’d heard that verdict, but it was the bluntest anyone had come across with it. Max lunged at his dad, and his aunt caught his shoulder. His jaw clenched as he shook her off. But I squeezed his hand, silently telling him to relax. It’s so not worth it.

Carol smiled at me. “You’re Max’s...”

“Friend,” I supplied.

From her expression, that wasn’t the answer she expected. “Nice to meet you. I was surprised when Max said he’d try to make it. He didn’t tell me he was bringing company.”

“We’re not staying with you,” Max said. “So don’t worry about it.”

“Too good for your family.” His dad snorted.

Max cut him a WTF look and I understood why. From his father’s tone, he made it sound like it was Max’s choice, not involuntary exile. Before the tension could get worse, though, Mickey shook my hand with a friendly smile. This kid had incredible eyes, two or three shades lighter than Max’s, and flecked with gold. He must already be breaking hearts.

“With all this bickering, I don’t see an intro anytime in our future. I’m Michael.”

Ah. So he’s grown out of the nickname. Truthfully, he didn’t look much like a Mickey, though I was definitely Disney-biased. I figured he’d been closer as a kid.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Only a slight exaggeration. But from his expression, he was glad to hear it, so I smiled and pretended I knew some cute childhood stories instead of only having learned of his existence the day before.

Thanks, Max.

“All good, right?” Michael had dimples, too, plus a faint cleft in his chin. I had the urge to ruffle his hair, but he’d probably take it the wrong way.

“Stop flirting,” Max said, folding his arms with a mock-stern look.

“Him or me?” I teased.

“Both of you. It’s disturbing, Kaufman. I told you it’s never happening between us, and I won’t let you seduce my brother for revenge.”

“So much for my nefarious plans.”

Michael glanced between us, a strange expression dawning. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I remember you as...angrier.”

That sparked a tentative smile from Max, like he was expecting a gong to clang and for his brother to melt into a dog-headed demon or something. “You want to see the bike?”

“No way, you still have it?”

“Yeah, I’ve nearly got it done.”

“You promised me a ride, asshole.” Michael didn’t seem to notice the way Max flinched, but I did. His fingers tightened on mine. “Can we check it out now?” He was already wheeling toward the exit, leading the way.

I didn’t know much about motorcycles, but the brothers seemed to be bonding. So I let go of Max. When he followed Michael without looking back, I decided it was the right move. That left me standing awkwardly with his father and Aunt Carol. Offering a tentative smile, I tried to come up with an innocuous topic for small talk.

But Mr. Cooper beat me to the punch. “Whatever promises the kid made to get you here, I guarantee they’re bullshit. You’re better off getting on a bus. Want a ride?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just offering to help you out, girlie.”

Oh, no, you did not.

My fingers balled up into a fist, but before I could make good on my urge to introduce it to his nose, Carol caught my arm. “Let me get you some coffee. I think there are some cookies, too. Cavanaugh and Sons don’t offer much of a spread.”

“Like I’d pay top dollar to put that old bastard in the ground.”

Since that was pretty much exactly what Max thought about the asshole in front of me—the live one—I stared over my shoulder as the older woman led me away. “Sorry. You must think we’re awful.”

A polite response to that failed me, so I took the Styrofoam cup full of bitter-smelling coffee and added powdery packets of fake creamer and yellow envelopes of sweetener until I could pretend it was a milkshake. Most people were surprised that I didn’t just shoot up triple espressos because I exuded that vibe, but in fact, I didn’t like hot drinks—with the exception of Angus’s mulled wine. But normally, even on a cold day I’d rather have a chilled beverage.

Carol wasn’t kidding when she said the pickings were slim. This looked like the employee break room with a few sad round tables, covered in napkins and newspapers, along with scattered cookie crumbs. This reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since noon, and it was nosing toward seven. Silently I nibbled a stale snickerdoodle and pondered the life choices that ended with me in this current situation.

“So how do you know Max?” she asked.

Since I’d almost forgotten she was there, I came back with the absurd and defensive, “How do you know Max?”

Mentally I banged my head on the nearest wall when her pleasant face clouded over in confusion. “Um. Well, we’ve never actually met before, to be honest. I married his dad’s younger brother two years ago. I didn’t realize there was such...drama in the family, so I emailed him an announcement about the wedding.”

Oh, she’s an aunt by marriage.

“And he wrote back?”

“Yeah. I’ve been updating him about Michael, mostly.”

“That was nice of you.”

“It’s the least I can do. I’ll never understand the dynamics here. Sometimes it’s like stepping through a minefield.”

“Yeah, I can already tell Mr. Cooper’s a character.”

“Who, Charlie? It’s okay, honey. You can say it. He’s a jackass. Don’t get him started on his addiction, by the way. He’ll talk your ear off about his stupid chips.” I must’ve looked blank because she added, “He joined AA a few months back, after his dad got really sick. So he’s got sobriety tokens now, three months’ worth. Luckily Jim doesn’t have the same problems as his brother or his dad, may he rest in peace.”

“Jim would be your husband?” I guessed.

“Right, you don’t know anyone. Let me help.” She took my arm and hauled me back to the chapel, where she kept me pinned to her side naming strangers.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell I’m remember any of that.

It was nearly eight when Max and Michael came back in, so they must’ve had a good talk. I’d rarely seen Max smiling so wide, and pleasure washed over me at playing any role in this reunion. There weren’t many people left, just close family, by this point.

Mr. Cooper scowled when he saw his sons together. “Okay, closing time. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

That sounded more like last call at a bar than a suitable farewell at a viewing, a wake or whatever Christians called this deal. I much preferred Jewish services. But the stragglers cleared out in response to Mr. Cooper’s impatient gestures, leaving a middle-aged man who looked a bit like Max with an arm around Carol—that had to be Jim—me, Max, Michael and their dad.

There was a lot of awkward staring until I said, “Can we get some dinner?”

Mr. Cooper snorted. “Better feed her. Asses like that don’t grow themselves.”

Max had been spoiling to punch his father all night, and while I shared the impulse, I wasn’t ruining this service or going to jail. “Wow. Well, thanks for noticing...but it’s slightly inappropriate. Try to stare at butts closer to your own age. Max, you hungry?”

“I could eat,” he said, seeming surprised.

“Where are you headed?” Michael glanced between us, obviously angling for an invite. I could read the subtext, if Max was too pissed at his dad to catch on.

“I’m not sure. What’s good around here?”

“The diner over on North Broadway isn’t bad. It’s cheap and tasty. I don’t eat there often when I’m in training, though.”

“You look like an athlete,” I admitted.

“Is it the chair that gave me away?” He had a sporty, streamlined model.

“Frankly, it’s your whole upper body.” Which, from Max’s death glare, might’ve been a weird thing to say, but his little brother was fit.

“What did I say about the flirting? He’s still in high school, for shit’s sake. You’re gonna end up in a mugshot.”

Michael laughed. “Stand down, bro. I’ll let you know if I feel sexually threatened.”

“You want to take point, show us how to find the eats?” I suspected he must have a ride.

In reply, Michael jingled his keys. “No problem. Follow me.”

Somehow I mustered the last echo of a good upbringing and said good-night to Mr. Cooper without a sneer. I put some more warmth into it when I spoke to Jim and Carol, then we rolled out. Max was quiet as we got on the motorcycle. I didn’t try to talk to him; there would likely be a lengthy deconstruction in the room after we ate. The snarl of the engine drowned out my growling stomach, at least.

The diner was small, a hole-in-the-wall place on the corner of Broadway and a cross street whose name I couldn’t read. On the bike, we didn’t have to worry about parking, though. Michael stashed his retrofitted Scion down the block; I watched as he rolled down the rear ramp and closed things up. Max moved like he’d go help out but I grabbed his arm.

“This is his life, you know? I’m sure he hangs out with his friends.”

“Yeah. I just... I can’t square it in my head. Last time I saw him, he was hooked up to tubes, frail as hell. Now he’s—”

“Fine.”

“You’re such a perv, Kaufman.”

I punched him in the arm. “Not what I meant and you know it. Did you seriously think he’d be sitting in bed, pale and sad for, like, five years?” At the flicker of his eyes, I raised my brows. “God, you mentally had him dying in a Victorian tuberculosis ward, didn’t you? You watch Tombstone too much, I’ve always said that. And Doc Holliday looks nothing like Val Kilmer.”

“What’re you guys talking about?” Michael asked.

“Westerns,” I answered before Max could get awkward. “What’s your favorite?”

Max kept quiet as we found a table and moved a chair so Michael could wheel up. The resulting conversation carried us past ordering, and Max eased up once we switched to action flicks, something he had a lot to say about. He and Michael discussed the underappreciated genius of John Woo, then moved to the interesting stuff currently being filmed in Hong Kong. I added less than nothing to the convo, but since I had chicken tenders, I didn’t mind. The fries were homemade, fresh cut, and the coleslaw was decent; I ate it so I could pretend the veg would counteract all the fried goodness. In the immortal words of Max’s dad—gotta feed dat ass.

But midway through dinner, Michael said, “We should really talk about something Courtney cares about, too.”

“Kaufman’s fine. You are, right?” Max turned to me with a raised brow. He had nice ones, thick enough to make a statement, not wild enough to give him an evil-genius air.

“Yep. I could go for pie, though. Is it any good here?”

“Do you like pecan?” Michael asked.

“Do I like it? I almost married it. But my sweet pastry felt like I was getting all codependent, so we had this huge, messy breakup, and now I have sole custody of the tartlets. It’s hard, man.” Biting my knuckles, I dropped my eyes, pretending to wipe away the tears.

Max was used to my weirdness but Michael seemed startled for, like, ten seconds, then he cracked up. “Okay, no nut allergies, check. Try the pecan pie if it won’t trigger a flashback.”

It had been a while since I hung out with high school kids, basically since I was one, and I didn’t remember guys being so mature and poised at sixteen. But that wasn’t something I could comment on without it seeming strange and/or insulting. Max would also chide me for the third time about hitting on his brother, and that might open a hell mouth or something.

The waitress came over in response to Max’s chin lift. One of these days, I had to learn that. To get a server’s attention, I practically had to get out glowing batons and signal a plane.

“We’ll have three pieces of pecan pie and the check.”

“Any coffee?” she asked.

Before I could reply, Max said, “Nah. It’s too late for me, the kid’s too young and the lady doesn’t like it.”

I was kind of surprised he remembered, but Michael was glaring. He didn’t speak until the girl moved off. “Too young, fuck you. Too young.”

“So opposable thumbs are pretty cool,” I said.

But things were melting down too fast for me to head them off. Max waded in with boots on, not that I knew why. “You’re a kid, Mickey. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I can see why you’d think that, considering you haven’t even seen me in five years. Guess what, I grew up while you were out.” He took a deep, deep breath, brown eyes flashing. “Your phone doesn’t work, Max? Dad said you had a reason for disappearing on us, and I’ve been waiting to hear it.”

Part of me wanted to defend Max, but I bit my lip. This isn’t your fight, and you only know his side of the story. Things probably looked much different to Michael.

Before Max could answer—tell his brother what he’d told me about being kicked out of the house—the waitress showed up with pie. By the time she walked off, Michael was seething too hard to listen.

He shoved away from the table and wheeled around with a dark stare. “Never mind, not in the mood for dessert. Nice meeting you, Courtney.”

“That’s crazy,” I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “How is it humanly possible not to be in the mood for pie?”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Because Max stood up and stalked out, stranding me in a strange diner in Providence.

CHAPTER FIVE

In reaction to my predicament, I ate one and a half pieces of pecan pie.

Michael was right; it was delicious. Then I asked the waitress to box up the rest. I mean, how bad can the situation be if there’s pie? Once I had my leftovers in a sack, I paid the check and stepped onto the sidewalk. Part of me hoped I’d find Max pacing, maybe smoking a cigarette like he did when he was really upset or completely hammered, but the bike was gone.

By this point, it was half past nine. Swallowing hard, I went back inside. The waitress didn’t look pleased to see me, but I rode it out. Local info could make all the difference.

“So I’m wondering if there’s a decent motel within walking distance. I don’t mind if it’s crappy, just not a hellhole.” I hoped she’d know what I meant.

“Oh.” Her annoyance softened, leavened with sympathy. “Your boyfriend ditched you?”

It didn’t seem worth it to clarify. “Yeah. There probably isn’t a bus out tonight anyway.”

I felt slightly bad for putting that on the table. If I left tomorrow, I’d fly back to Ann Arbor and ask if Nadia could pick me up. But the waitress wouldn’t feel like helping me if she knew I wasn’t as pathetic as I appeared. You’d have to be a complete sociopath to refuse to answer questions, given my apparent abandonment.

“You don’t want to hang around the station that late, even if there is. If you can afford a room for the night, taking the bus during the day is a lot safer.”

Since I had plenty of space on various cards and a fair amount of cash on me, plus my ATM card, this didn’t present as much of a challenge as it might have for someone else. My style hid the fact that my family had plenty of money, though not like Angus, of course. Better for me to blend into the neighborhood anyway, especially at this hour.

“Okay, thanks.” I smiled at her.

“There’s a decent place four blocks away. I can draw a map if you want.”

“No, that’s fine. If you tell me what it’s called, I can map it on my phone. Is it safe to walk in this neighborhood? I’m not from around here.”

She nodded, naming the hotel. “Just keep your head down and stay alert. The first block is iffy, but there will be more people when you hit Little Italy.”

After thanking her again, I memorized the route, then put away my phone. Even during the day, it wasn’t a good idea to show you had no fucking clue where you were going. At night, it would be insane. Maybe I should just call a taxi but it seemed dumb as hell to wait twenty minutes for it when I could walk it in less than ten. The waitress was right about the first leg feeling sketchy, so I speed-walked. A few guys stared from their stoops as I jogged by, but nobody made a move.

More lights sprang up as I turned, and by the way the architecture changed, I could tell I’d found Little Italy. The buildings looked more European, painted in brighter hues. Checking the street sign, I saw I’d found De Pasquale Avenue, just as Google promised. I felt better here, as a number of restaurants were still open, mostly bistros and trattorias that reminded me of Rome. I found the hotel, no problem; it was a three-story building—canary yellow with white accents. The front rooms appeared to have balconies, and it didn’t seem like a flophouse, even from the outside, though I could tell it wasn’t posh.

My phone read 9:50 p.m. No messages from Max. Well, it wasn’t the first time he’d taken off. But as I put my hands on the door, my cell rang.

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“I’ve been kidnapped by super generous criminals, who let me keep my personal electronics. It’s too late. I’m a sex slave now, don’t try to save me.”

An older woman coming out of the restaurant next door aimed a shocked look at me. I beamed at her, waving like we were old friends. That made her quicken her step, lest she be forced to talk to me. She crossed the street to continue her journey.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”

He sighed. “Just tell me where you are, please. I admit it, I shouldn’t have left. I was just trying to catch up with Michael but I fucked up and he won’t talk to me. I turned around when I realized how weird it was to chase him on the bike.”

“You hurt his pride. And I didn’t stay there because the diner was closing. I hate being the asshole who can’t take a hint, even when they’re cleaning up around you.”

For a millisecond, I considered giving him a hard time, but it had been a shitty enough day, and it wasn’t like anything horrible had happened to me. I’m not a damsel in distress. I can handle my own business.

“Kaufman.”

“Fine.” I gave him the address for Hotel Dolce Villa. “I’m getting a room. See you later.”

Inside, the hotel was purple and white, surprisingly modern. No frills, but the lobby was clean, with an efficiently-designed counter and a vending machine against the wall. If the rooms were like this, clean and simple, then this would be nicer than the place we’d stayed in last night. Certainly the area was better than the interstate.

The receptionist looked slightly annoyed when I walked up. I tried a smile. “Sorry, I don’t have a reservation, but I was wondering if you had anything available?”

“You’re lucky,” she muttered.

“Huh?”

“Check-in shuts down at 10:00 p.m. As it’s nine fifty-seven and—” she checked the computer “—this guy’s still not here, I’m making an executive decision and giving you the room.”

Oh. That explains the irritation. She’s about to shut down and go home. Some hotels had twenty-four-hour desk service, but apparently this wasn’t one of them.

“That’s awesome—thanks.” I didn’t feel like wandering Providence in hope of finding shelter, and after the tension at the funeral home and his argument with his brother, I imagined Max felt the same. “Is the hotel small?”

“Yeah, only fourteen suites. This is our last room. How many nights?”

The funeral was tomorrow, and there was no way we were heading out straight after. Max needed to make peace with Michael, if nothing else. That’s the whole reason we’re here.

I made an executive decision on my own. “Three. Can you put it on my card?”

“Sure. Are you alone?”

“No, a friend will be joining me shortly. He’s parking the bike.”

“We don’t have a proper lot but he can stash a motorcycle out back.”

I texted him that information. Ten minutes later, Max blew through the front door, weighed down by helmets and backpacks, wildly disheveled but hotter for it, somehow. It was frustrating to notice that about him. Pushing out of my chair, I waved at the receptionist and led the way to our suite without speaking. Our room was two flights up. I had a combination instead of a card, so I keyed in the code and let us in. Like the lobby, it was clean and modern, painted bright blue. White furniture and a tile floor made it seem like a small apartment, complete with separate bedroom and kitchenette. The room smelled overwhelmingly of plug-in air freshener, not the worst possibility.

Max glanced around in surprise. “Better than I expected.”

“According to the brochure, the bed and pull-out couch have memory-foam mattresses.”

“I’ll take the sofa.”

“Like I’d give you the bed after you ditched me.”

He caught my shoulder as I brushed by. “Hey. I really am sorry. It was a dick move. If you want to punch me, go for it. Just...not the face, okay?”

I laughed and pulled away. “You’re such an idiot.”

“I’m trying to make it up to you.”

“You know I’m not a dude, right? If I was upset, I wouldn’t get over it by hitting you.”

Max sighed. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

“The apology was fine. But if you ever do anything like that again, I’m making a quilt out of your underwear.”

“That’s disturbing on so many levels.” He paused a beat. “For instance, you can sew?”

“Don’t judge. Junior year, I made my own prom dress.”

“I don’t know what’s blowing my mind more, you being domestic or the fact that you went to prom. Do you have pictures?”

Normally I’d never go to the archives. Eli’s there. Eli. These days I didn’t talk to him in my head as much as I used to. Back in high school, I couldn’t go a whole day without those fictional convos to get me through. Now I sometimes went as long as a week without asking his opinion. Which qualified me as beyond crazy. For Max, though, I plopped onto the love seat and connected to the free Wi-Fi on my phone. Then I flipped through the cloud gallery where I’d stored five years of precious memories. Pulling up my junior prom picture created an actual physical ache.

I’d worn a black taffeta strapless gown embroidered with silver skulls, fishnet stockings and black Converse, my hair done up in an Amy Winehouse–inspired masterpiece. My date stood only an inch taller, though I was in flats. I’d made his matching tie and cummerbund, too. I stared at his sweet, ridiculous face, so covered in freckles that I’d never finished counting them. I hadn’t dated a blond guy since, but it was Eli’s eyes I’d loved most, impossibly blue, and always trained on me, waiting for me to say something clever or make him laugh.

Max sat down beside me. “Wow, your hair was so long.”

Cliché, but I’d hacked it all off after Eli died, donated it to Locks of Love. Even before he asked me out, I’d known that ending was a possibility...but I’d loved him anyway—with everything I had. Other people in our situation got miracles. Why not us? Risk it all, right, Eli? Dance like nobody’s watching. I pushed out a breath, hating the tightness in my chest. So many years later, and it never got easier.

“Yeah.”

Something about my tone must’ve tipped him off because his gaze snapped to my face. “Shit. Are you crying?”

“Maybe a little. I need to get to bed.” I tried to stand up, but Max wouldn’t let me.

His arm circled my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “Talk to me. If you shut me out, I’ll feel like we’re not actually friends. And then how I am supposed to feel about asking you to do this with me?”

That was fucking low, but I admired emotional sophistry. Wiping my eyes, I flipped to the next photo. “This was my high school boyfriend.”

“It didn’t work out?”

“He died.”

“Fuck. I’m so sorry. I had no idea or I wouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay. I can’t break down just because someone asks to see an old prom picture.” I swallowed hard, unable to breathe for a few seconds.

I had no idea why it was hitting me so hard tonight, but the hole was right there, bigger than ever. When he’d gone, Eli left a chasm in the middle of my heart, probably because we were best friends first. So I’d lost the love of my life and my closest friend on the same day. To this day, when I heard the flatline from a hospital TV show, my throat closed up. Too clearly I remembered how it felt to have his fingers cool in mine while the nurses tried to pull me away.

Gouging at my eyes with the heels of my hands, I thrust my phone at Max. “Here. Look at whatever you want.”

“Are you serious?” He put it on the small table and drew me into his arms. “I don’t care about the pictures. Right now I’m all about you.”

His sweetness broke me down, and I cried into his shoulder. It had been years since I’d done this. Maybe it was the funeral? Max rubbed my back until I settled down. As I sat back, he swept the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. His gaze was so dark, intent, that I had no idea what he was thinking.

He’s thinking about kissing you, Eli said.

Oh, my God, shut up.

Seriously, it hasn’t been that long. You remember that look.

But this is Max. He’s just a friend.

Eli’s laugh echoed in my head. Yeah, well, so was I. Until I wasn’t anymore.

Unsettled, I pulled back. “Sorry. I think I’m just tired.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Not really. But that was unfair, given how much he’d confided in me. And I’d told Nadia, so... I nodded. “It’s not much of a story, but... I grew up with Eli. We played in sandboxes together, plotted world domination over juice boxes. When I grew boobs, he asked me out.”

“What happened to him?”

“He was sick a lot,” I said hoarsely. “Leukemia, multiple remissions. Our senior year, he wasn’t strong enough for another round of chemo. He died of secondary complications when I was seventeen.” That was such a clinical way to describe watching him getting weaker and weaker, until his face was all hospital pallor and electric blue eyes. At the end, his hands felt so frail in mine, bony fingers and parchment skin.

“I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me if I’d known.”

“Don’t be stupid. Everyone’s lost somebody. It’s not like I’ll never attend another funeral again because I went to Eli’s. I’m happy you’re letting me be there for you.”

“Likewise,” he whispered.

I let him tip my head against his shoulder. Max locked his arms around me, settling like he planned to sleep this way. For a minute, I considered it, but I’d be stupid to risk a crick in my neck when there was a bed in the next room. So I pushed against his chest.

“Not that this emotional catharsis wasn’t completely awesome, but it’s been a long day.”

“Okay. G’night, then.” Maybe it was my imagination but I thought I spied a flicker of...something as I pulled away. Disappointment?

No. What’s wrong with you? Everything was weird in Providence without Angus and Nadia to make Max and me feel normal together. Dammit, Eli. Now you’ve got me seeing stuff that isn’t there.

I picked up my backpack, and his faint sigh reached me as I got to the doorway. I couldn’t deny the sense of unfinished business. “You want to sleep with me?”

Usually, at this point, Max would make a joke about how we were never, ever having sex. I didn’t turn around.

“Would it be weird if I said yes?”

“It’s fine, come on.”

Like the night before, I used the bathroom first and got in bed before Max. This time, however, there was only one bed; as promised, the mattress was amazing. Since there was a club nearby, it was probably louder on the weekend, but tonight, the place was fine. I burrowed in and rolled over on my side so it didn’t look like I was watching for Max. Tension crackled in my nerves, and it was an odd, anticipatory feeling.

Nobody’s getting laid tonight, okay? That’s not what this is about.

Eventually he came out and crawled in the other side. It had been a while since I’d slept with anyone, and if I leveled with myself, I missed it. Max edged toward me until our backs touched. The careful tenderness of it made me smile.

“That okay?”

“Yeah.” I liked listening to him breathe in the dark. Such a small thing, but lovely.

“Can I ask you something? It’s personal and might be stupid.”

“Go for it. I’m sure I’ll survive.” It couldn’t be worse than stuff my parents came up with.

“Have you always been bi? Or is that because...Eli...” He fumbled the question, but I suspected I knew where he was trying to go.

I laughed softly. That was dumb, yes, but cute. “Yeah. It’s not because he died and I’ll never love another man, so therefore only women are left to me as romantic options.”

“You must think I’m an idiot.” The bed shifted, and I snuck a peek to catch him burying his face in his pillow as if in embarrassment.

“It’s not the worst question I’ve been asked, trust me.”

“Is it...superdifferent?” At the moment, Max might set the bedding on fire with hot awkwardness, but I could tell he was honestly curious, not perving on the idea of me with a girl.

“The energy’s much different with a woman, yeah. But sex can be good or bad either way. I’ve been with women who expected me to do all the heavy lifting and men who didn’t know where to touch. For me, it’s all a head game anyway. My partner has to get me going intellectually before I want to fuck.”

“You’re definitely not shallow.”

“I can’t be,” I said quietly. “I know what I bring to the table, and it’s not a pretty face or a perfect body. Therefore, I value other assets and...I work with what I’ve got.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “I think maybe Eli was the luckiest guy in the world.”

“Why?”

“Because you loved him.”

CHAPTER SIX

Because you loved him.

As I put on the black dress again, I heard Max’s whisper again in my head. Eli was silent. I toweled my hair since the dryer wasn’t working, then I daubed on some make-up, subdued for the occasion. My hair looked strange, but I hadn’t packed any product, so I smoothed it down as best I could and clipped the over-long bangs out of my face with a plain barrette.

Max rapped on the door. “You about ready?”

“Just need to brush my teeth. Give me a sec.”

Hesitating afterward, I swung away from my reflection with a soft curse. I pulled a smile into place by the time I opened the door, so Max could shower. Doing him a favor, I hid the god-awful tie that looked like something my uncle Gilbert would wear and went into the other room to watch the small TV. Or pretend to, rather. The night before left me feeling strange and exposed. Can’t wait to get back to Michigan, back to normal. Where Max and I didn’t act bizarre and emotional around each other.

I heard him bang out of the bathroom and rummage around the bedroom for a few minutes. He came to the doorway, dress shirt unbuttoned and untucked; I felt bad because I totally scoped out his chest and abs before I caught myself. The dark, trailing ink of an intriguing tattoo curled over his ribcage and under the white fabric. Surprise flared when I realized I wouldn’t mind pulling his shirt all the way off and checking out his ink. That’s...inconvenient. Eyes up. Raising my brows, I pretended I didn’t know what his problem was.

“I can’t find my tie.”

“If you need one, we’ll stop somewhere on the way, okay? I’ll pick it out.” That was meant as both a bribe and a distraction.

“Okay. I think I saw a menswear shop not too far from the funeral home.”

Nodding, I grabbed my purse and followed him out of the small suite that belonged to us for the next couple of days. The bike was around back, so we went out that way, much less picturesque than the front, especially with the Dumpsters nearby, but since it hadn’t been stolen, I counted that a win. On the way, we stopped for fast-food breakfast sandwiches and ate them next to the motorcycle, which he parked in a metered spot outside the clothing store. Silently I dropped in a quarter, taking in his tiredness and the shadows beneath his eyes. The cheap safety razor did a piss-poor job on his dark scruff, so his face was patchy, particularly on his chin.

“Can’t take your eyes off me, huh? I get a lot of that.”

“I’m sure you do.” The circumstances made me gentle, but he surprised me by blushing.

“Okay, it freaks me out when you’re nice to me.”

“Can you put up with it for two more days?”

He smiled. “I’ll manage.”

Once we finished breakfast, I pushed into the cramped store to the jingle of customer-announcing bells. A gray-haired man came out of the backroom, wilting a little when he saw us. I guessed we didn’t look like big spenders, and since Max only needed a tie, his radar was working fine. But he still smiled, which spoke well of his customer service skills.

“Anything I can help you find?”

I shook my head, leading the way over to a small table with ties laid out in a fan. “Are there any colors you hate passionately?”

“Lime green.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you anyway.”

“How about this one?” Pulling a red, white, gray and black plaid one out of the pile, I held it up against his white shirt. Since he was wearing plain gray trousers, I thought it worked.

Max didn’t look too sure. “Isn’t it a little...”

“What?”

“Burberry. You know, designer-asshole-looking.”

“This isn’t the same pattern, but if you don’t like it—”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Like it.”

I smirked up at him. “Well, the one you had on before was a pimp-city special. The only way it could’ve been worse is if it had palm trees and glitter.”

“Fine, I’ll take this one. Obviously I have bad taste in dress clothes.” From his sulky tone, he thought his old tie was awesome.

“Jackets are sixty percent off,” the salesman tried. “With your build, I have plenty of blazers that would look great on you.”

To my surprise, Max turned to me with a half frown. “Do you think I should I get one?”

“Do you trust me to dress you?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

So I plucked a black blazer off the rack in his size, along with a thin cloud-gray sweater-vest. “Put it all on, including the tie.”

He scowled, but he didn’t protest, though I had to adjust the vest, unfastening the bottom button to show off his belt. Max fumbled at the tie until I took over, remembering with a knot in my throat how I used to do this for Eli, too. When Max shrugged into the jacket, the transformation amazed me.

“You’re staring. Is it that bad?” Whirling, he studied himself in the mirror. “Holy shit.”

“You look like you’re about to have your picture shot for a men’s magazine.” No question, he had the lean build they preferred.

“I’d rather someone actually shot me.” But as Max’s dark gaze met mine in the mirror, a tiny smile curved his mouth. “Thanks. I want to look nice today. Prove everybody wrong.”

“Both the blazer and vest are on sale,” the salesman said. “The tie isn’t.”

“We’ll take all three. Can you cut the tags off before he comes up with a reason why not? He’ll wear the clothes out.”

Max grumbled as he followed me to the register. While the guy rang things up, I sent him off on a fool’s errand to look at handkerchiefs so I could ninja-pay. By the time he got back, I was already signing the receipt. His brows shot up.

“What the hell, Kaufman.”

“There’s no time to argue. The service starts in ten minutes.”

As expected, that motivated him; he rushed out of the shop and was starting the bike by the time I hopped on behind him. Wrapping my arms about his waist, I settled in, leaning my cheek against his back. Though I’d never admit it, this was the best part of the trip. I loved holding on to him, his stomach hot and taut beneath my curled fingers. Just out of the shower, Max smelled soapy clean, overlaid by the new smell of his jacket.

The funeral home was only five minutes away, and he parked close to the building. I suspected I hadn’t heard the last of this impulse-shopping spree, but Max had the sense to defer it. We slipped into the chapel as the minister walked slowly toward the podium at the front, pressing hands and smiling at familiar faces. I sat down in the back, expecting Max would join his family up front. Instead he nudged me to move over, granting him the chair on the aisle.

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but the ceremony was sedate. The minister gave a touching talk about meeting in the next life; there were three musical interludes and a very old man went to the microphone on a walker to talk about Max’s granddad. A few people sniffled but nobody cried. That seemed like the watermark of how nice you were in life. If people seemed okay with your passing, then you probably had some karmic restitution coming. Well, provided that the Hindus were right about reincarnation. Eli was a good guy. He might be somebody’s beloved new baby by now. How I wished I believed that. Certainty would be comforting.

While I was thinking about how awesome it would be to come back as a house cat, the service ended. Everyone filed up to say farewell, but I hung back. Max nodded, probably not understanding my hesitance, but he was good at picking up cues. Michael was one of the first through the line, and I smiled when he rolled toward me.

“Hey. Sorry about last night. I was really rude.”

“You and Max have some stuff to work out. I get it.”

“We do. But you and I don’t.” Okay, I definitely wasn’t imagining the flirty grin; I’d watched Max unleash it to devastating effect all through college. “You said you’re not his girlfriend, right?”

“We’re roommates, actually. You should come visit sometime.” After I said it, I realized we were on the second floor, and Michael seemed fiercely independent.

“Are you from Michigan originally?”

“Chicago. It was quite a culture shock. I didn’t even drive when I graduated.” The L took me everywhere I wanted to go since I had no reason to venture into the ’burbs.

“And that was when?”

“Are you seriously asking how old I am?” Reluctant amusement sparked a smile, one that Michael returned with interest.

“I’m curious. Sue me.”

“Twenty-one. If things go well, I’ll graduate this year.”

“Yet you don’t sound excited.”

“Eh, I’m a business major. It’s not the employer catnip that it used to be, so I’m not looking forward to working at Starbucks. And, wow, you’re good at this.”

“What?” He opened his eyes, innocent, but I wasn’t buying it.

“Charming information out of people.”

“You think I’m charming?”

Max joined us in time to hear the question. “Are you hitting on my brother again?”

Smart not to call him “little.” You’re learning.

“I’m just laying the groundwork, so he’ll remember me fondly when he’s legal and I’m the antisocial cat lady living in your basement.”

Michael answered before Max could. “I think you’re shooting too low. You could totally swing ground-floor accommodations if you lean in.”

Since I only knew about that book because of a sitcom and Google, I had to give him a fist bump for that one. “I’ll try not to let you down.”

“You want to ride with me to the cemetery? Dad’s going with Uncle Lou.” The offer included both of us, so I glanced at Max.

Ah, the mysterious uncle I didn’t meet last night.

“Yeah. If you’re sure it’s okay.” The hesitation in Max’s tone broke my heart because I knew exactly how long he rolled around last night, memories chewing him up from the inside.

“I’d rather not go alone.” Michael spun around and headed for the exit.

Up front, the casket was being removed out the side door, but we didn’t stick around to watch it happen. Michael opened the rear doors and unfolded the ramp, then wheeled up to the driver’s seat. Max and I hopped in, then pulled it up after us and closed up. I sat in back, leaving the front to the brothers. They talked quietly during the ride, and I tried not to eavesdrop.

Max, you should tell him.

The drive took almost forty minutes, and I texted with Nadia most of that time.

So Angus tells me you ran off with Max.

Yeah, we figured we’d get our first trial marriage out of the way early.

You realize I’m completely helpless without emoticons. You might be in Vegas right now!

I’ll explain later. Everything’s okay.

She texted me three more times but I ignored those. Max finally glanced over his shoulder. “Who’s beeping you so hard, Kaufman?”

“Some things are just too private to share,” I teased.

“Are you sexting?” He lunged for my phone.

To keep the joke going longer, I shoved it down the front of my dress and smirked at him, brows up. “How bad do you want to know?”

For two heartbeats, he considered going in. But then he mumbled something unintelligible and turned around.

Michael checked the rearview as I fished my cell out of my cleavage, then offered, “I could find out for you, bro.”

Before things could get weird, I said, “I’m not sexting, it’s Nadia. She just wanted to know what’s going on with us.”

“Ah. Tell her I said hey.”

“Who’s Nadia?” Michael asked.

I told him about her, along with Angus, a rambling monologue punctuated by occasional remarks from Max. By the time I finished, the convoy reached the cemetery, well outside the city limits. The trees were probably gorgeous in fall, but it was pretty in late summer, too, green and well-kept. But it was hard to follow Max up the path, harder to see Michael struggle and know it would only piss him off if I offered to help. From this distance, I could see the tent, the coffin on burial scaffolding, a hole in the ground, the folding chairs set up on outdoor carpeting. They’d moved all the flowers from the funeral home, arrayed them around the coffin, so the breeze hit me in the face with the scent of sweet decay.

We were among the last to arrive, and this time Michael hung back with us. The funerary rites were mercifully brief; since the weather was muggy, hot and overcast, I’d have hated standing there for an hour. The wind died down, hinting at the prospect of a storm after nightfall. Maybe it would clear the air. One way or another we could use it.

They lowered the coffin and Carol tossed a flower into the grave. As people started to leave, I shifted, wondering if I should suggest...something. But really, Max needed to take the reins and sort out his family business without my intervention. So I kept quiet.

“What’re you doing now?” he asked his brother.

“There’s a potluck at the house,” Michael said. “If you want to come.”

His first reaction came in the form of leaping pleasure shining in his dark eyes, quickly dulled to uncertainty. “I don’t know if—”

“It’s not at Pop’s, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve been living with Uncle Lou for the past four years.” Though his tone was offhand, I sensed there was a boatload of a story behind that decision.

“Four years...” Max wore a stunned expression, so much that I put my hand on his arm, steadying him. “All this time, I thought I couldn’t talk to you, see you. Not even to apologize.”

“What?” Michael stared at him, equally flummoxed.

Tell him, I ordered with my eyes. In their shoes, I would’ve had this talk last night, but no, they only blabbed about the bike, apparently. This offer felt akin to falling on a grenade—I disliked their dad that much—but they needed some privacy.

“I’ll get a ride with your uncle,” I said. “Catch you later, Max.”

Before he could argue, I hurried across the grass toward Mr. Cooper’s retreating back. The man beside him must be Uncle Lou; he was both shorter and wider. I caught up with them, out of breath, and nearly tripped over a headstone. Uncle Lou had a kind, jowly face with deep-set eyes with pouches under them. His nose was bulbous, but I could practically taste the kindness in him. He was also older than I’d expected, probably Max and Michael’s great-uncle. Which made the deceased granddad his brother.

“Can I beg a lift? Max and Michael need some time.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Normally it pissed me off when men immediately defaulted to endearments; with Uncle Lou I didn’t mind. I’d probably even eat a butterscotch if he fished one out of his pocket.

“You go to school with Maxie, do you?”

If anybody heard that nickname when he was a kid, ten to one they called him Maxipad.

I was basically ignoring Mr. Cooper at this point, and he seemed to be returning the favor, walking a bit ahead. So I yielded to the urge to brag about Max. “Yeah. He’s doing really well in engineering, works part-time at a garage on weekends. It’s amazing what he’s achieved completely on his own.”

Mr. Cooper’s shoulders squared. Yeah, I hope you’re listening, asshole. Suck on that.

“I’m so proud of him. Carol tells us what he emails to her, but he has the idea nobody in the family wants to hear from him because of what happened to Mickey. And the nonsense Charlie spouted right after the accident, of course.” Uncle Lou sighed. “But I’m sure you know how stubborn Maxie can be. He gets an idea lodged in his head and nothing short of an earthquake can shake it out.”

“He still blames himself,” I ventured quietly.

“None of us do. I slammed into a parked car once because I dropped a sandwich. Now, that’s stupid. I can only imagine how I’d feel if somebody got hurt.”

Mr. Cooper picked up the pace, probably trying to get out of earshot. I watched him go, wondering how he lived with himself. He’d kicked one son out and then couldn’t look after Michael after he got out of the hospital, just went on drinking like it was his reason for living. The whole situation made me angrier than I could recall being in my whole life.

Uncle Lou studied my face with the air of an adorable, aging basset hound. “It’s a mess, no two ways around it. But I hope we can clear up the misunderstanding while Maxie’s here.”

“I hope so, too.” We were nearly to the car when I gave up and asked the nosiest question of my life. “What, exactly, did Max’s dad say that night at the hospital? I know Max left home right after, but—”

“Honey, I think you already know this, but...that story should come from Max. And it’d do him good to get it off his chest. When he’s ready, he’ll tell you himself.”

Maybe, I thought.

And the prospect blazed through me in a shower of joy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Uncle Lou drove a white vintage Cadillac. By its size, it probably dated from the ’70s and got terrible gas mileage, but it was smooth riding in the back. Max’s dad didn’t say a word to either one of us on the way to the house, which made me wonder if he’d honestly hated me on sight, or if it was the old conflict with Max coloring his impression. People didn’t always like me, obviously, but they seldom reacted with such immediate and virulent antipathy.

It took forty-five minutes to get to Uncle Lou’s house, which was in Coventry, not Providence. When he turned into the driveway I realized we were there, though the line of cars should’ve clued me in. A white bungalow with detached garage proved to be our final destination; there was even a picket fence and a big deck out front with a ramp leading up. Neighbors and well-wishers were waiting when we got out of the car and strangers hugged me without asking how I knew the deceased. A kind-faced woman pressed a plate of food into my hands, and I took it reflexively, bewildered.

I had some kind of fritters, a Jell-O-and-whipped-cream salad, cold cuts, a helping of casserole that I couldn’t identify. This was the random assortment of food people showed up with after a family death, hoping to make life easier for the survivors. Shrugging, I ate the fried thing and settled in a glider chair on the deck. I’d never been to a funeral after-party before, which was what this felt like. When Eli died, I barely held it together through the services and then I went to bed and slept for two days. I missed nearly three weeks of school my senior year.

Half an hour later, Carol sat down beside me. “Did you lose track of Max?”

“He’s with Michael, hopefully resolving their issues.”

“Men,” she said.

“Eh.” I wasn’t fond of generalizations. “I know plenty of women who have a hard time articulating their feelings, too.”

Too late I remembered that was how women bonded, by being condescending about men. But I’d never participated in that tradition. People of both genders had equal opportunity to be idiots as well as emotionally evolved. I ignored the awkward pause in conversation, eating a bite of fruit salad. Carol stirred, as if she might get up, but then Mr. Cooper stumbled out of the house. From the smell, I could tell he’d fallen off the wagon.

“Where the fuck is that bastard?” He could only be talking about Max, who wasn’t there yet, thank God. “It’s not enough he crippled my Mickey, now he’s—”

His brother, Jim, clapped a hand over his mouth, dragging him back inside. The rest of the guests swapped nervous glances, as if they were thinking about bailing, but ten minutes passed, then Jim came out of the house alone. Relief pressed a sigh out of me, and tension drained from my spine.

“Sorry, folks. It’s been a rough day for Charlie.”

Everyone nodded, pretending to accept the excuse, but whispers about Mr. Cooper didn’t abate. Poor Max. His dad really is an asshole. But the rest of the family seemed okay.

Before much longer, Michael parked his Scion in front of the house, as the driveway was full. Max pulled up a minute behind; that was kind of a relief. There was no question that I was an interloper here, and the longer I sat, the weirder I felt. Plus, it was fucking hot. Sweat trickled down the small of my back when I stood up to meet him.

“You okay?” he asked, jogging up the ramp toward me.

“Yeah. You?” I noticed he’d discarded his blazer and vest, probably stowed in the bike’s top box, and his tie hung loose, tempting me to tug on it. If we were dating, I’d use it to haul him in for a kiss.

“It’s funny. For years I figured he hated me, blamed me for everything and that he wouldn’t believe me if I explained why I couldn’t be around. But in the end...he wasn’t even too surprised.”

“I’m guessing he knows your dad.”

Max glanced around. “Where is he?”

“Drinking again. Your Uncle Jim put him to bed earlier. I think.” Before I could reconsider the meddling impulse, I shared what Uncle Lou had said.

He stumbled back, his hand on the railing. “Are you serious?”

I nodded. “With one exception, your family misses you, dude.”

On closer inspection, I saw that he was actually trembling. I put down my plate as Max took my hand and led me around back. It was much cooler, more wooded, less landscaping, but there was an old swing suspended on a weathered frame. He led over me to it and sort of collapsed. Max leaned forward, his face in his hands. I rubbed his sweaty back, not really understanding this reaction.

When he spoke, his words were muffled. “This is nothing like I pictured. I thought I’d have to fight everyone—that it would be all anger and blame. I was...I was braced for that, you know? I’m used to fighting. But Uncle Jim and Aunt Carol, Uncle Lou... They’re so nice. And sad, too. Hurt, even. Because of me. Because I let my crazy-ass dad speak for everyone. Because I listened to him and cut ties without a second thought.”

“You were pretty young,” I said. “I think it’s enough you had the courage to come back. And I admire the hell out of you for making it right with Michael. You’ve been on your own since you were sixteen. I mean, damn. Instead of dropping out, you graduated. Somehow. I’ve always wondered how, man.”

Max straightened, but not enough to make me think he wanted me to stop, so I circled my palm up and down his back. His lashes fluttered, suggesting he liked it. “Technically, I did drop out. I raced off on the bike, ended up in a shitty no-questions-asked motel in Scranton. I worked fast food, barely squeaking by.”

“Your family didn’t call?” Okay, maybe they were all assholes.

“I couldn’t afford a cell phone.”

“Email?”

“I didn’t check much since I had to go to the library to use the computer, and when I did, I deleted them unread.”

“But...why?” He could’ve resolved this much sooner.

“I was afraid they were trying to tell me Mickey didn’t make it. Chickenshit, I know, but...it was like, if I didn’t read it, then it couldn’t be true. I know now, once he started getting better they got busy managing his recovery and figuring out where he’d live...because he finally told everyone else how bad it was with Pop.”

“You never said anything?”

Max shook his head. “It was... I shielded Mickey from him... That was my mandate. Hell if I know why I didn’t just tell Uncle Jim. But I guess, back then, I was...ashamed, like it was because of me. So I had to hide the evidence.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I was better, my old man wouldn’t act like that.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“I was a dumb kid. When I think back to when my mother was alive, he wasn’t that way. But I was so young, I don’t remember much about her.”

Working my palm up his spine, I cupped my hand around his neck, massaging the tense cords until he let out a pleased sigh. “What was she like?”

“Like I said, I was five when she died. But she spoke with an accent, and...” He paused like he was sorting his memories. “I loved watching her cook. She’d set me up in the kitchen with wooden spoons and two or three pots to bang on. Never yelled no matter how much noise I made. And...she smelled like jasmine.”

Max tipped his head back, and I took the invitation, lifting the shaggy black hair to sink my fingers into it, rubbing the base of his skull in slow, gentle circles. “How come your family never tried to find you?”

“Michael said they didn’t mean to lose track of me, it just happened. They figured I’d blow off some steam, come home in a few weeks. But I was too stubborn. I didn’t set foot in Rhode Island until I was old enough to take the GED.”

“After so much shit, you still got into college. From where I’m sitting, that’s incredible. Your whole life is a colossal in-your-face to your dad.”

“Not so much. The first year after I left was...rocky. I drank a lot, flirted with various addictions. Fucked any woman who’d take me home and got into pointless fights. A guy nearly stabbed me in an alley before I realized dying in the gutter wasn’t how I wanted to go out.”

“You turned it around, though. And your family’s proud. Why wouldn’t they be?” After Eli died, I got full-on hooked on prescription meds; I loved the numbness. But I didn’t pull out of the spiral on my own. My mother sent me to rehab the summer after I graduated.

“I thought they agreed with him,” he said quietly. “That I’ve always been a worthless fuckup and always will be.”

“Is that what he said at the hospital?” I held my breath, wondering if he’d tell me about the most traumatic night of his life.

“I can still quote him, you know? I was sitting in the waiting room, covered in blood and powdered glass, while they worked on Mickey, afraid to hope, afraid to pray. My dad burst in and I thought, Thank God. It’ll be okay now. But he yanked me out of the chair and hit me so hard, I bit through my lip.”

Reflexively my hand clenched in his hair, but I relaxed my fingers to avoid hurting him. On a deep, steadying breath, I resumed stroking, meant to soothe him, though it had the same effect on me. His dark hair felt like damp satin on my palm and he smelled vaguely of the shampoo we’d used earlier. There was nothing I could say, so I leaned closer, letting him know I was there whether he wanted to keep talking or not.

A few seconds later, he went on. “He said, ‘I wish to God you’d never been born. What a worthless shit you turned out to be. This is why I’ve tried so hard to pound the asshole out of you, but you are fucking un-save-able.’ Then he shoved me up against the wall and threatened to crack my skull with a beer bottle.”

“Holy shit. Your dad’s insane.”

Max turned with haunted eyes, shifting so I had to move my hand or drop it entirely. I chose not to relinquish contact, sensing that he needed it. I left my hand on his jaw, the uneven scruff teasing my palm. Though I might be wrong, I didn’t think he’d ever told this story before. He wore a shell-shocked expression, as if the memories were more powerful than he’d expected.

“The worst part is, I didn’t even leave then. I should have. But I went all sad puppy. ‘How can you...? You’re my dad, you’re supposed to love me.’” His mouth tightened, revealing how he felt about the pathetic nature of the question.

“What did he say?” It couldn’t be good.

“‘It’s not hard to work out, you dumb shit. If I don’t love you, it’s because you’re unlovable. Now get out of here. If I see you again, I will fucking end you.’”

“You took off that night.” Now that I had the whole story, I understood why.

The family could only cope with one emergency at a time. While everyone sat by Michael’s hospital bed, Max got farther away. And the longer the silence lasted, the more convinced he became that everyone hated him. Until Carol sent a wedding announcement email. Did I think somebody should’ve been on Max’s side, searching tirelessly to find him? Absolutely. But sometimes the world was a cold, horrible place, and people slipped through the cracks. That didn’t make it right.

“Yeah. You’re really quiet. It’s kind of freaking me out, I don’t want this to change us. I’ve never laid it out completely before, and—”

“I know, you say you don’t get along with your family and leave it at that. Thanks for trusting me. And no, it doesn’t make a difference. You’re my best friend...and I’m always on your side, Max. You can count on me for anything, you know that, right?”

His dark eyes shone, brightening with tears. They didn’t fall; he backed away from that emotional precipice, though his smile remained soft and sweet. “I do, actually. That’s why I asked you to come.”

“That means a lot to me.” I hugged him then, wrapping my arms around his waist.

He settled me against his chest, resting his chin on my hair. It was beyond me how anyone could call him unlovable. He radiated warmth. Yeah, the packaging was a little rough, and he didn’t speak with an upscale accent, but Max hid only goodness at the heart of him. Some guys talked shit about their hookups, but I’d never heard Max comparing notes or denigrating a girl for sleeping with him.

“You got the room for three nights, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was wondering if you’d mind hanging out with Michael tomorrow. We’ll take off the day after.”

“Not at all. I was hoping you’d get some family time.”

“I didn’t think it was likely,” he admitted. “But Michael isn’t mad. Well, he is, but not about the accident. He just didn’t get why I vanished.”

“Did you tell him everything?”

He shook his head. “Kid has enough on his plate without hating Pop as much as I do.”

“So what’re you guys doing tomorrow?” I figured I’d walk downtown and check out the shopping in Providence, maybe see a movie.

“You aren’t coming?” He actually sounded disappointed.

“It seems like I’d be in the way. I mean, I’m not family.”

Max sat back and planted his hands on my shoulders. The suddenness of the motion jolted the swing, so the chains creaked. I tumbled backward, feet coming off the ground. I didn’t fight when he shifted, pulling me against his side. In slow, steady movements, he pushed off with his feet. Green shadows played across my bare legs, highlighting the pallor.

“You are,” he said.

“What?”

“Family. Maybe that sounds strange. I’m not looking forward to graduation. I mean, shit, we’re already splitting up. Nadia’s living downstairs, and Kia might be moving in. It’ll suck when I can’t see you guys every day.”

Mostly I didn’t think about the future. I had acquaintances in the business program who had five-year and ten-year life plans. But for me, the idea of what came after college—it was all a big blur. I couldn’t picture myself doing anything in particular. For a long time, I had been going through the motions, pretending I had goals, when I just missed Eli and didn’t take medication that would make it stop.

You have to let me go, Eli said. You can’t be happy unless you do.

But if I let you go, you’re gone.

I’ve been gone for years, baby.

“Where do you go when you do that?” Max asked unexpectedly.

“Huh?”

“Sometimes in the middle of a conversation, you check out. Not here, not listening, not with me anymore.”

This confession would make him think I was crazy. “Talking to my dead boyfriend.”

Max’s eyes widened and he glanced around his uncle’s backyard as if he expected some Medium scenario to play out. Ruefully I smiled and shook my head, tapping my temple. “In here. We knew each other so well—and for so long—that I hear his commentary on stuff and sometimes I answer. It’s weird, I know. I didn’t realize anyone could tell, though.”

“Trust me, I know when you’re paying attention to me. And that’s not the strangest habit I’ve encountered. When I was in Scranton, I met a guy who had a bird living in his pocket.”

I shuddered. “That sounds horrible for everyone involved.”

“I know, right? Anyway, the question stands. Will you come out with Michael and me?” His hand found the nape of my neck and he returned the favor, massaging until I nearly melted onto his lap.

Truthfully, he was turning me on somewhat, but I’d learned to ignore the little sparks between us. This friendship was too perfect to be complicated with sex, and making out with Max forced me to acknowledge that one night wouldn’t satisfy me. Plus, he went for pretty girls—Lauren, for example—and I’d heard all about his crush from Nadia. I couldn’t afford to become sexually obsessed with someone who thought of me as family.

We’re better as friends.

“Sure. It makes sense to let him show me around. Local knowledge and all.”

“Hey, I grew up here, too. I can line up some attractions that will rock your world.”

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