My eyes closed, I whispered, “I think my heart already chose. It just took me longer to get there ‘cause of my fears…”
***
My eyelids flicked open to a room doused in darkness. Groggily, I reached for Max, but the spot beside me, though warm, was empty. Then I saw him disappearing into the corridor. Low voices drifted to me from the gap in the door seconds later.
“Tanner called, said you’d been in an accident—are you okay?”
I recognized that voice. Leland Sinclair. Tensed. Worried. So unlike the cool, cultured tone I expected.
“And it took you this long to get here?”
“He just told me. I got in my car and raced over.”
“It must be a big disappointment that it wasn’t me in the crash,” Max said, tone flat. “I remember…everything. Mom’s accident. Why it happened. Everything.”
Oh, Max.My heart hurt for him, hearing the anguish in his voice.
“How could you? How could you do that to Mom? She loved you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. You cheated on her. She was leaving you. I was bringing her back home to talk to you, but she didn’t want that. I insisted. She pulled the steering wheel from me—that’s when the accident occurred. Iwasn’tdrunk…” His voice broke. “I did not kill her. Andyoulet me believe I did.” His words were filled with such agony.
“What?”His father sounded shaken.“I never said you killed your mother.”
“Not according to Cecilia.”
“What do you mean?” A dangerous edge scored Leland Sinclair’s tone.
“She never came right out and said so, only that I should give you time and space to get over me crashing Mom’s car and killing her.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re just distraught over your girlfriend being hurt.”
Silence. Knowing Max, he’d probably shut off from his father, it was the only way he knew how to protect himself.
“Cecilia was concerned about your slide into drinking and fighting. She thought it was best to give you space so you could accept what had happened—”
“I didn’t need space, I needed my father.” There was so much pain in his tone, I wondered if his father even heard what lay behind Max’s words.
“You should thank Logan for me coming to the barbeque. She wanted me to give you a chance. Of course, you never saw that. All you thought was that she isn’t good enough for a Meade-Sinclair. But she’s perfect for me. You want to marry Cecilia, go ahead. I don’t care.”
Footsteps. Then the door shut quietly behind him. He crossed to the bed.
The witch. She played father against son. Probably did the same thing with his mother.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah…” He sat on the edge of the bed. Shoulders hunched, head bowed. “No…I’m not all right. But I’m damn glad I got that out.” His chest heaved as he pulled in a harsh breath. Then he glanced at me. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was.” I stroked his back with my good hand. “Come, lie down.”
He lay beside me again, gently easing me back into the crook of his arm. I rested my throbbing hand on his chest. When he simply stared at the darkened ceiling, I said, “I heard, Max.”
Silence.
“Max—”
“No. There’s nothing more to be said. He doesn’t give a shit about me.”
