My attention flits to Max, who’s attracted a mixed audience of folks from our cleanup crew, campers, and motorcycle-club members, all of them with expectant faces as he tells a story. He’s a chameleon, and the crowd of people hangs on his every word.
“Not yet.” My stomach tightens.
“He’ll understand.”
“You think?”
“He might be upset that you weren’t honest, but he deserves to know.”
When I returned from Dublin, Gwen begged me to let her message Max and say anything to convince him to come back, even for a weekend.He would ditch Dublin and get back here so fast, she’d said. And that was the problem with Max transferringto somewhere in Los Angeles, or maybe even closer. Proximity to his parents, missing out on opportunities in big cities with big artists, and his resentment growing day by day. The two of us fighting, and Max wondering if it was worth sacrificing what he wanted, just for me.
But she’s right—I can’t keep holding back on him.
After everyone eats, people depart in large groups. The desire to get horizontal and stay that way as long as humanly possible yanks at my eyelids. I hug the last person in our group goodbye as Sal brings the check. As we wait for him to return with my card, Max plops down on the seat to my left.
“Crazy day, huh?” He drapes an arm over my shoulder, like he used to when we were young. The gesture holds much more weight now.
“Tomorrow’ll be crazier. All those people. The big event.”
Sal drops off the credit card, giving me a wink on his way back to the bar.
“Hey, so, I wanted to tell you something,” Max murmurs in my ear, his breath deliciously hot against my skin.
“Oh?” I snuggle closer, and he presses his lips to jawline. My pulse races with the anxiety of what I need to say next. “Me, too.”
“Then let’s talk.” He kisses me again, and he’s too damn sweet, it breaks my heart.
A rumbling voice by the billiards table shouts, “Enough already, asshole!” Then comes the sound of a fist clashing with a face, and a large, leather-clad, bearded man flies horizontally into the seats across from us.
The room explodes into chaos—yelling, broken pint glasses, and the scuffing of feet and chairs and tables. I cower in the booth in fear as a trio of men tussle closer. Max hops over the backrests into the next booth, deftly grabbing my hands and guiding me through the heart of the pandemonium. Weaving through the screaming and punching patrons is the last thingI want to do, but with Max leading me, I would go anywhere—even as the bodies bump against us, the angry sounds grow louder, and I swear someone soars overhead. Max stumbles at one point, but we reach the exit by coasting along the edge of the mob.
We make it outside, where other skittish patrons have gathered as the drama unfolds in the bar. Sal’s voice booms over everyone, and the commotion lessens—as a teddy bear with bite, Sal has that effect on people.
“You okay?” Max asks.
“Yeah.” When I turn to him, the breath gets sucked out of me. “Holy shit. You’re bleeding.”
A gruesome ruby red oozes in between his teeth and dribbles out one side of his mouth. “I’m fine.”
“Who was it?”
“Gonna defend my honor?” He grabs my wrist, preventing me from marching into the bar to find the guilty party. “An elbow to the jaw, that’s all.”
I step inches away from his face for a better look. When I put my hand against his cheek, he sucks in a sharp breath. He needs ice, or he’ll swell up to the size of a grapefruit.
I break only five speed limits on my way home, adrenaline surging through me. When we get back, he rinses out his mouth, and at least the bleeding has stopped. Whoever knocked him hit Max hard enough that his teeth scraped against the inside of his cheek, but the cuts didn’t go deep.
“Have any painkillers?” he asks. “Advil or ibuprofen?”
“I’ve got something even better,” I say, rummaging through a drawer. “Stacey gifted me some joints to help me sleep.” I don’t mention that ever since Max and I have been sharing a bed, my sleeping problems have disappeared. I hold it out to him. “A couple hits’ll take the edge off.”
“God, she’s cool.” Max takes a few hits for some immediate relief and pops an ibuprofen. Wrapping a bag of frozen peas in a tea towel, I steady my shaking hands and lean close to Max’s face.
“Ready?” I ask.
He nods, then hisses again when the peas touch his swelling cheek. After a pause, he leans further into the coolness, clearly finding some relief. Max peers at me, his eyes heavy. “You can fawn over me all you want.”
I laugh.
