“Sure,” she says. “Cashing in already?”
“I was going to go out with Max for a little while, and Dad…”
Meredith straightens, her gaze narrowing. “You don’t want your father to know.”
“He doesn’t get Max,” I say, hoping she does. The implausibility of this moment, confiding in Meredith, is not lost on me. But I want to trust her—Ineedto trust her. “He thinks Max is trouble, but he’s not. He thinks Max will change me, but he won’t.”
“Please. You’re better than letting a boy rub off on you. But wait… Is this a date? Because this morning you seemed prettyehabout Max.”
“We’re just going to get some ice cream. I’ll be home before Dad notices I’m gone.”
She smiles conspiratorially. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
I leave through the back so as not to attract attention. Max is waiting in his truck, parked on the street between our houses with the passenger door wide open. He’s listening to early Tim McGraw, classic enough to satisfy his tastes, I suppose, but contemporary enough to keep me from going batty.
When he sees me, his face, illuminated by the cab’s dome light, comes alive with a smile. There’s a new energy between us, a palpable, the-possibilities-are-wide-open kind of energy.
I like it.
***
We pick up ice cream from Rainier Creamery. Then Max drives down to the river, where he parks on a deserted overlook. The sky is pitch black and wind whistles through the truck’s tiny entry points, but inside the cab we’re warm and comfortable. We dig into our ice cream, country music’s all-stars crooning ballads over the radio’s waves. As far as non-dates go, the whole scene is pretty dreamy.
Max quickly interrupts it. “Level with me. How thoroughly have I pissed you off over the last few months?”
Leave it to him to get right to business.
“Pretty thoroughly,” I admit, studying a spoonful of coconut ice cream. “When you called me from the river, finding out later it was about Becky. That was… unpleasant.”
“It wasn’t about Becky. Shit, Jill. Is that what you think?”
“You drink yourself into oblivion right after you break up with your girlfriend. What am I supposed to think?”
“Not that it had anything to do withher. That day… Seeing you in the parking lot after school, knowing I’d probably fucked things up beyond repair, I felt like nothing was ever gonna be right again.” He looks at me, his expression quizzical. “Haven’t you ever felt that way?”
“Honestly? I’ve been feeling that way a lot lately.”
He drops his ice cream dish into a cup holder. “I’ve been taking my shit out on you, and I know that’s unfair, but after Halloween, after Bunco, I knew you had regrets—”
“Wait. Youdidn’thave regrets?”
“I was freaked out, yeah. You’reyou. If I hurt you, my parents will disown me. Kyle will beat my ass. Shit, your dad’ll bury me in his backyard. But I was never sorry.”
Bits of reality replace the conjecture that’s been clouding my head for weeks. I take another bite of ice cream and let it melt on my tongue. It’s sweet and tropical, and makes me think of sun-drenched beaches and palm trees and warm ocean air. I glance out the window at the black, black sky, feeling conflicted. “What about Becky?” I ask, because if I’m going to do this, give Max and me a real shot, I need to know everything.
“What about her? We were a cluster-fuck.”
“Then why did you stay with her so long?”
He expels a heftyI was hoping you’d never ask me thatsigh. “She’s not a terrible person, Jill—not like you think.”
“Yes, she is. She’s manipulative, and she’s mean to you.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t been all that great to her.”
“She makes you drink.”
He laughs, a dry, drained sound. “I do stupid things all on my own, in case you haven’t noticed. Becky’s never made me do anything. And for what it’s worth, I’m done getting sloshed every time the world gives me the finger.”
