Page 80 of In Your Wake

He moves closer, making sure his hushed voice reaches only me. “Or we could always share your bed. I’m a human torch, remember? I’ll keep you nice and warm.”

I frown, but the heat in his tone sends traitorous shivers across my skin, and there’s no ignoring the spike in my blood pressure. “And in case you don’t remember, I love being cold. You’ll take the floor.”

He snickers into his beer. “We’ll see.”

“Is this yours?” I ask pointing to the untouched beer can sitting in my cup holder.

“Nah, I got it for you.”

I eye him suspiciously, wondering if he’s shaken it. I cautiously crack the top, relieved when it doesn’t explode in my face. “Thanks.”

“What are friends for, right?” A subtle smile hints at his lips, and I see a flicker of hope in his eyes that I long to cling to, but that I fear won’t last.

For a little while, frozen as if by fear, we don’t move. Around us, the conversation continues, but it’s as if Mitch and I are on the periphery of a bubble, and our friends won’t dare pop it by speaking directly to us. Or possibly, like me, deep down, they wish we’d forgive and forget. That we’d move on from the past and go back to how things used to be.

Soon, my body cramps, and I bring my feet up, tucking them beneath me. Unintentionally, I lean toward Mitch.

Seconds later, I feel him relax, his body sinking into the chair and, also as if without intention, he seems to favor my side, his right shoulder dropping toward mine.

It’s like this instinctual dance we do. We get closer to each other, but neither of us admits that’s what we’re doing. As if body memory wants to tug us back together. But it’s only old habits dying hard. I hate it, but I’m unable to stop it.

Sweet laughter and the lull of low chatter, the flames dancing with heat and colors, all become so calming. And before I even realize it, my eyes drift shut and my head falls onto Mitch’s shoulder, as if the last thirteen years never happened. As if we’ve gone back in time and our bodies want to ignore what our hearts refuse to forget.

16

Too Much

Mitch

I’ve traveled the world and seen so many things. I’ve won trophies, I’ve met all sorts of people. And yet nothing compares to the pure joy that spreads through me when Maxine’s head drops to my shoulder, making me feel like I’m a kid all over again.

The simplicity of it brings a smile to my face I can no longer hide behind my beard, so I drink my beer instead. This means nothing, she’s only exhausted.

Still, there’s a huge part of me that wants to bask in the temporary forgiveness of this moment. We’re like we were, unburdened by the baggage of years of not speaking, not wallowing in petty things that in the end don’t fucking matter.

She shimmies closer, and the weight of her head grows heavier telling me she’s fast asleep. I should help her get to bed.

As gently as possible, I cradle her head with one hand, then stand, gathering her into my arms. I nod to the gang; Spencer’s knowing smirk says more than I’d like, but luckily Hunter’s gone to take a piss, so he misses this. I’m not sure he’d like seeing me carrying his unconscious baby sister to bed.

Balancing Max in my arms, I get into the tent and lay her down on her mattress. I untie her pigtails, knowing they’ll give her a headache, then gently undo the braids and run my fingers through her loose strands, fanning her red waves over the pillow. They’re like flames, framing her face in a fiery halo.

Despite years away, one thing remains absolutely unchanged: Maxine Nolan’s simple beauty still steals my breath away.

Over her shoulder, I spot my dilemma—my mattress is now a deflated pile of pillows and sleeping bag on the floor. I’m about to return to the fireside, to ignore this problem for now, but then realize that I don’t have any interest in joining them.

Usually, my life revolves around socializing and answering endless questions. Lather, rinse, repeat. Lately, the injury, negotiations, and everything else have caught me in a perpetual cyclone of words. But here in this small canvas dome tucked in the woods, alone with Sleeping Beauty softly snoring, and the din of my friends chatting outside by the crackling fire, it’s all so perfectly peaceful. And up till now, I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this. The quiet. The calm.

“Screw it,” I whisper to myself, throwing a cautious glance at Maxine. She’s out cold and barely takes up half the bed, so I grab my sleeping bag off the floor and lay it down on the mattress. I undress, save for my boxers, and slide in next to her.

She stirs, and expecting her to whine and order me back to the floor, I tense. But all she does is roll onto her side, facing me, and tuck her hands beneath her cheek. Her eyelids flutter, her lashes kissing the tops of her cheeks, and I wonder how I’ve stayed away from her for so long. She used to take up a huge part of my heart, my soul, my everything, and I left her behind as if she didn’t matter.

She shivers, sinking down into her sleeping bag.

“So fucking stubborn,” I whisper and move closer, but stop when she releases a small moan. Then, she rubs her cold nose against my bare chest, reminding me of all those years ago and I smile.

I could have been brave that night. Taken a chance, and changed everything. I could have had everything I’d ever wanted, but got scared and panicked instead. Then again, when I remember how things blew up between us a few days later, I’m sort of glad nothing ever happened. I can only imagine how much worse the heartbreak would have been if I’d given into my feelings.

She inhales deeply. “Mitch?” she asks, her voice groggy and half-asleep.