They made their hasty goodbyes, exchanging quick hugs and promises to get together soon. The cool night air hit her face as they stepped outside, offering sweet relief from the stuffy dining room.
Once settled in the truck, Max’s cologne, a scent she’d grown to associate with comfort, filled the small space. For a brief moment, she was tempted to take hishand, to accept the reassuring warmth of his skin against hers. The urge to lean over and kiss him, to forget about New Orleans and her father’s expectations—her ambitions, her fears—was overwhelming.
Before she could do either, he put the truck in reverse and drove toward his home. The engine’s hum filled the tense silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic click of the turn signal. Streetlights cast alternating patterns of light and shadow across Max’s face, highlighting his slight frown. Her mind was too full to figure out what to say, and it seemed Max had nothing to say.
He finally spoke when they were a few miles from his house. “So . . . New Orleans, huh?”
She glanced out the side window. “Yes. It’s a great opportunity.”
“And us?” he asked, parking in his driveway.
“Max.” She pulled her car keys from her purse. His house was dark and lonely—just like her future would be if she had let him in completely. “Can we hold off on this conversation until I get back? I should only be gone a few days.” That was all she needed, a few days to think alone, without Max’s summer blue eyes and perfect smile.
His jaw tightened. “No. You said we talk about us when we returned. We’re back.”
“And I have a lot on my mind.”
“Except me,” he snapped.
“That isn’t fair. This isn’t about you. It’s about my career.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ll always pick it over me.”
“I didn’t realize I had to pick.”
He sighed, looking at his house, then back at her. “You don’t. But I need to know where I stand with you.”
“Fine, do you want me to lie to you? Tell you everything will work out even though accepting the job will change things between us.”
“The change doesn’t have to be bad. We can make it work.” He took her hand, his thumb circling her palm. “I could fall for you.”
Her heart soared, then deflated like a knife twisting in her chest. Because “could fall” meant he hadn’t—and he wouldn’t. Distance would creep in. He’d meet someone else, someone less complicated, less afraid. She’d seen this movie before.
She slid her hand from his. “Could we please put this on hold until I get back?”
“Fine,” He sighed, opening his door, the interior light blinding her. “Goodbye, Paloma. Enjoy Louisiana.”
He paused with his hand on the door. His gaze was heavy, and it took every ounce of her self-discipline not to turn and meet those eyes she was growing to love. She held her breath, her heart pounding. But the moment passed, and she heard the soft click of the truck door closing.
He walked away, not looking back.
Chapter Thirty-Six
November 26th, 9 a.m.
Sunlight slanted through Max’s bedroom blinds, and he watched the shadows creep across his ceiling. The morning stretched before him like an endless void, punctuated only by the promise he’d made last week—breakfast at his mother’s house.
He should be in his kitchen making his mom’s favorite berry muffins. Instead, he lay in lethargic limbo replaying last night’s dinner at Paloma’s parents’ house. She was probably there right now, planning and packing with her dad—a scenario notably absent of him.
He should get up. Stop being an asshole. His mom had been fretting over him constantly since the car accident, bringing over food, calling, and stopping by. She was yet another person he’d managed to burden with his jackass decisions. The thought of facing her today, of watching her eyes track his movements for signs of pain or distress, had his chest tightening. She’d see right through any attempt to pretend he was fine. He’d end up worrying her more if he visited.
Rolling over, he patted blindly at his nightstand for his phone, intent on making the call that would disappoint her again. His fingers brushed against thecool metal as his doorbell chimed, the sound jarring in the morning quiet.
“What the fuck?” he muttered, dragging himself upright.
The last thing he needed was company. It meant admitting the day had to start and that life was moving forward whether he was ready or not. He crossed to his front door in quick, angry strides. He yanked it open and found Drake on the porch, looking far too alert for the early hour.
“What are you doing here?” Max demanded.
