Page 46 of The Spellreader and the Phoenix

Max laughed. “Yeah, not the best. Maybe a bit later for the cookies.”

Nodding, Rory, tucked the containers back in the bag in the foot well. It was quiet for a few minutes, marked by the streetlights throwing pools of light before they passed into the darkness again, and then the cycle repeated, over and over.

Max wasn’t sure how much later it was when Rory asked quietly, “Are you alright?”

Max realized he was clutching the steering wheel too tightly and made himself stretch out his hands one at a time and try to loosen his grip.

After a moment, Max admitted, “My parents were killed in a car crash.”

Rory breathed out an audible breath. “Oh, Max, I’m so sorry. Are you okay to drive?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Max assured him. “I made sure both Evie and I went to therapy, and I kept driving, because I didn’t want to turn it into something I’d be afraid to do. It’s too useful, and it was too essential, especially when Evie was younger.”

Boston had good transit, sure, but there were plenty of places he needed to go for books that weren’t on any sort of transit route.

“That makes sense,” Rory said after a minute. “I’m still sorry if this is hard for you.”

“It was black ice. No one to blame. Just bad luck.” He swallowed. “They died almost instantly, apparently, which I guess is a blessing.”

He wouldn’t have wanted them to suffer, and it was highly unlikely that a witch specializing in healing spells could have gotten to them fast enough. He still wondered, sometimes, but he’d mostly trained his brain not to dwell on it.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help them,” Rory said, sounding unhappy.

That was a weird thing to say, but Max understood the sentiment—and he’d been confronted with months of bookshop clients who had tried to awkwardly express their sympathy, not knowing what to say but not wanting to say nothing.

“It was a long time ago,” Max said, trying to hit the right tone. Not dismissive, but maybe a bit distant. “It was a terrible, senseless tragedy. And while it’s quite unlikely anything like that will happen again”—It was mid-October and still too warm for black ice—“I was the one in charge of the bookshop while they were gone.” He drew in a deep breath and blew it out, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “The police showed up to tell me what had happened.”

“Max,” Rory breathed.

He swallowed again. “It was almost midnight by the time they tracked us down. Pounded on the back door of the shop. So it’s not like this has any real resemblance to what happened…”

Alex wasn’t staying over. Alex wasn’t their next of kin. It just—

Rory squeezed his arm comfortingly. “I won’t let anything happen to us, I promise.”

The calm, absolute certainty in his voice made something unwind in Max, even as he recognized that was a promise no one could make. But somehow, it set something at ease in him.

Max cleared his throat. “I know it’s unlikely something will happen.”

Rory’s hand was still there on his arm, a warm, comforting weight. “Life can always be unpredictable. The only way to avoid all risks is to avoid everything, and that would be an impossibly restricted life. You’re not taking daredevil risks, but you’re still doing what you need to do. And it’s obvious you’re a careful driver. It’s totally normal for fears and anxieties to be there regardless of any rational reason for them.”

Max blew out a breath. That was true enough. His therapist had made clear that any reaction was an acceptable one, though some could cause harm and some could reduce harm; they just tried to aim for harm reduction as often as they could.

Max had been so determined to be there for Evie and to make sure she still had good things in her life. It had carried him through a lot of the aftermath. And burying himself in the bookshop and making sure that his parents’ shop lived on had helped, too.

Maybe Max hadn’t thought a lot about what he wanted for himself in the beginning, but it felt like he’d gotten closer to it now. He really did love identifying spells and making them accessible. And with Rory and Alex managing the shop, that was easier than ever.

“I’m really glad we got to do this,” Max told Rory, managing a smile. “Thank you again for setting it up.”

“You’re very welcome,” Rory said, and Max could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m really glad it worked out. I know it’s something you wanted to do.”

Max considered this. “What do you want to do with your life?”

He hadn’t asked that before, and it suddenly felt like he was a horrible friend.

But Rory assured him, “Oh, I’m doing what I’d like to be doing with my life.”

Max was startled. “Driving to an old book collection on a Friday night?”