Maybe the apology could wait for later, once things had settled down. Flynn grimaced to himself. He was too sober for that. He couldn’t get away with lying to himself. If he didn’t do it, he’d let it slide until he could convince himself there was no more point in apologizing at all.
He didn’t give himself time to think further. He reached up and rapped his knuckles harshly against the door.
Through the wood and double glazing he heard a muffled voice yell “I’ll get it.”
The door swung open and a half-naked Max St. John leaned out. He was barefoot and shirtless, a pair of old jeans slung low around his hips. His expression turned sour when he saw Flynn, and his eyes narrowed.
“What do you want?”
“Is Nate here?”
Max leaned his shoulder against the jamb and crossed his arms. He dabbed his tongue out at the scab that stitched his lower lip together.
“I thought he made it pretty clear last night that he’s through with you,” he said.
“Is he here or not?”
There was a pause while Max looked him up and down. After a second he hitched one shoulder in a dismissive shrug.
“You just missed him,” he said. “He went up to the Granshire to smooth things over with Dad. Well, try to. I haven’t seen the old man that pissed in years. Not since…. Huh, it was the last time you were there, wasn’t it? I wonder what the connection is.”
Flynn rubbed his eyes and pressed down with his fingertips hard enough to see whorls of color pop behind the lids. The last thing he wanted was to get into a slagging match with Max at Nate’s front door, but it would besoeasy.
“Just tell him I called.”
He turned to leave and got three steps toward the curb before Max answered him.
“You know what? I don’t think I will.”
Flynn stopped dead. He could feel the old black temper claw at the back of his throat, eager to get away from him again. There had been a time when it had free rein more often than not, and Flynn had rarely gone a weekend without battered knuckles or a black eye. That was years before, though, when he thought every snicker in a pub was aimed at him and he had to answer them with a punch. Before last night he hadn’t lost his temper in years, but it apparently wasn’t eager to get leashed back in.
Either that or Max just had a unique talent for pissing him off.
“This isn’t your business, Max,” Flynn said flatly as he turned around. “Just tell Nate I was here.”
Max stepped out onto the pavement and pulled the door shut behind him. He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and lifted his chin.
“Look, we both know Nate’s worth it,” he said. “Do you really think you are?”
Flynn clenched his jaw and swallowed the bitter taste in his throat. “I think this is none of your business,” he said.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Max said. He stepped forward and smirked at Flynn. “Last night Nate was upset. I was there for him, like I always am, and, well, he upgraded.”
“I don’t believe you,” Flynn said. They both knew he was lying. The only unbelievable thing about Nate and Max was that it hadn’t happened before. He twisted his mouth into a mirror of Max’s smirk. “Besides, what’s the problem? Are you scared he’s going to realize you’re not his only choice?”
“Hardly. See, the thing is, Nate’s a soft touch. You come around and act all sorry, he’s going to look at you—old, beat-up, past it—and feel bad. That’s going to put a cramp in my life, so why don’t you do us both a favor?” He stretched to make up the difference in height between them and leaned in to murmur in Flynn’s ear. “Take the money and go. No one wants you here. Hell, no one wants you.”
Max leaned back. He looked pleased with himself, and there was still a smirk on his bruised mouth. The ache of his knuckles clued Flynn in that he’d clenched his hands into fists. Maybe he just hadn’t punched Max hardenough? If he tried again, he might knock the smug out of the entitled prick.
Probably not, though, and it would just upset Nate. About the only other thing that Max and Flynn had in common was that they didn’t want that. He took a deep breath and smiled tightly.
“Thing is, Max,” Flynn said. “You’re a rich kid who’s boasting about a guy finally sleeping with him after twenty years. So who is it that wants you around?”
Max’s eyes narrowed. His lip curled as he said, “Nate.”
“Naw,” Flynn said. “Twenty years. That’s not want. That’s settling.”
He turned to walk away. Max grabbed his arm.
