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Chapter 11

Street food

My stomach lurched. The street food I’d grabbed for dinner in my rush from Alliance to pick up my mom wasn’t sitting well.

I stumbled forward and dropped into the seat next to Max’s, pulling my knees up to my chest.

“If you’re going to be sick, do it there.” His voice reached my ears over the purr of the engine. I wondered if he could see how green I was. I wanted to muster a snappy retort, but instead focused all my attention on keeping the contents of my stomach right where they were.

I wasn’t afraid of water, but the idea of getting pitched into the channel wasn’t thrilling. I looked out to the water and willed the nausea to pass.

The cool night air helped a bit, as did the fact that Max looked immensely comfortable at the helm. He stood tall, the wind whipping his hair as he steered the boat through the dark water. The wake it kicked up frothed in perfect V-shape behind us.

“So… did you want to talk?” I prompted when I thought I’d won the battle against my nausea.

“About what?”

“I don’t know. The weather? The Fed’s interest rate policy? The Red Sox pitching lineup? Though if you want the last one, you’ll have to take the lead.” He sent me a cool look. “Fine, then, let’s just talk about why we were at the community center tonight. I’ll even go first. I was dropping my mom off at her cancer support group.”

Max’s attention sharpened. “Your mom’s sick?”

“She was. For the last few years. Some months we didn’t know which way it would go.” The worst months of my life. When every day was a new struggle—against the world, and against myself. The temptation to break, to fall, to cry, to fail.

“But she’s OK now.”

“Yeah. I mean, she’s better.”

I watched as we passed piers, a hotel. The airport came into sight as the boat around a bend in the channel.

“I didn’t know. Your life seems pretty charmed.”

I swiveled to face Max, wrapping my arms around my knees and feeling the smooth seat with my bare feet.

“It was,” I agreed. “Even though my dad took off before I was born, my mom never let me feel like I had only one parent. She made my Halloween costumes and put me in dance lessons for years even though I could barely turn without falling over.” I smiled faintly. “In return, I complained when we didn’t have money for the new clothes my friends had. I barely got into college, and when I did, I took my mom’s handouts. The world owed me something, right? So I partied when I should’ve studied, and slept with guys I should’ve stayed away from. She only knows half of the things I did.”

I wasn’t sure why I was being so candid, but once I started, it was hard to stop the words that poured out.

“The day the doctor told me what we could expect was the day I vowed to be there for her. Senior year of college I traded nights of drinking at bars for working at them. I spent days studying by her bedside. I finished school pulling better grades than I ever had. Since then, I swore I wouldn’t let her down the way I had my whole life. And I don’t think it’s ever perfect, but I try.”

I did everything I could to help her. When her work denied her medical leave, I had supplemented her income with mine. She’d protested that she didn’t need the two-bedroom condo we’d grown up in, eventually saying I could move back in. But I knew she needed her space, and she had her pride.

The boat had slowed down, and it took me a second to realize Max’s gaze was firmly on my face.

“So, that’s me,” I said quickly. “Want to share why you were there tonight?”

I thought he was going to refuse, but I heard his low voice over the engine. “I’m part of this group sometimes.” I shifted forward in my seat to hear him better. “Mostly college kids going through a hard time. Some have a diagnosis. Depression, OCD, BPD. Some have just been smacked upside the head by life. The idea is to help each other, but it’s funny how much hearing other people’s problems makes you feel like your own aren’t so bad.” He said the words bitterly. “I hadn’t gone in a while and tonight was a gem.”

“What happened?” I was dreading hearing this, but I needed to ask.

Max’s eyes scanned the horizon but I sensed he wasn’t seeing it. “This girl who’s always there—a kid, really—she ended her life.”

My throat constricted. “Were you close?”

“No. She’s a computing student at Boston College, so I guess we had some things in common. Ended up talking a few times at group; I met her for coffee once outside. She had some family issues. A boyfriend who was a first class asshole. I’m probably the least qualified to help someone like that, but for whatever reason, she wanted to talk. So I tried.” He shrugged but I sensed the movement was anything but casual.

“Do you—are you going to go to the funeral? Do you want someone to go with?”

His eyes turned to mine. “I don’t even have that choice. It happened two months ago. Two fucking months and I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit I didn’t even know.”

My heart hurt at the pain in his voice. He blamed himself. I knew what that felt like, even as I knew it wasn’t right. “How long have you been involved with the group?”

“Since I separated from my ex-wife.”

“You must have got married young,” I ventured.

“Twenty-four.”

“Who was she?” I asked without thinking. Max turned to look at me sharply, the wind ruffling his hair over his forehead. It was a long moment before he answered.

“Christina was at MIT. She was working on Oasis along with a team of students, back before I had actual staff. She was different than the others. Smarter. More mature.

“We got married right after she graduated. It was kind of a whirlwind—we dated a year before we went down to city hall and did it. Six months later, I found out I wasn’t the only older guy she was into. She’d been fucking her professor for months.”

I cringed as he said the last part. Not because of the words. Because no one our age should be so bitter.

“I got that particular piece of news months before Oasis came out. I almost didn’t finish the game. I used to go to meetings a lot. Even when I could barely get out of bed, I went there. It was a lifeline. I still go to help, if I can. It’s been more than a year since the worst.”

“Congratulations,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“Yeah, being a normal person is a real achievement.” 

I straightened in my seat. “There’s no such thing as normal. But moving forward, fighting, when you could choose to just give up? That’s big. Huge, Max.” He wasn’t looking at me but I could feel the tension in his body just a few feet away. “We all have times we fall down and we wonder how we got there. When we don’t know how we’re going to find a way to get back up again.”

His throat worked for a moment before he responded.

“So why do you?”

“Because other people need you. Because you’re strong enough to handle whatever life throws at you. Because at the end of the day, what other option do you have? Take your pick.”

Max’s eyes cut to me then, and something passed between us. A moment of shared understanding that was as unexpected as it was real.

“Maybe you should be handing out the advice instead of me. You’re not the worst at it.” Max shook his head a little, like he was trying to clear it. “So what’s your damage, Coyote? You have a boyfriend? Someone you stalk? Besides me, I mean.” A trace of humor lingered in the last breath. I let it pull at the corner of my mouth. Those dark moments when it feels wrong to laugh are the times you need it the most.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have time, outside of working for Alliance and moonlighting as a financing expert for up-and-coming gaming companies.”

He shook his head. “Come on, you’ve got to have hobbies. Euro porn? Sky diving? Karaoke?”

My mouth tugged into a smile. “Karaoke is a high-risk activity for me. I have stage fright.”

“So how do you make presentations? Imagine the audience in their underwear?”

I cringed. “With the crowd I work with, usually that’s even scarier.”

The sound of Max’s low chuckle warmed me, and I turned my head into the breeze until the noise was drowned out by the wind.

My gaze ran over the boat again, the sleek lines. I wanted to touch it. Stroke it. “How’d you get into this? Boating, I mean?”

“My uncle was a fisherman. I used to go out with him on weekends after we moved here. I’d fix up the boat, clean fish, whatever he let me do.”

It was hard to picture Max shucking oysters. “Your parents didn’t care?”

“No.” His voice told me he’d had enough of memory lane.

I ran my hand over the fiberglass. “So why’d you buy this now?”

“I’ve always wanted one. Chris didn’t like boats, so the day after I served her with papers, I went out and bought it. Never regretted it. Someday I’m going to take it down to the Caribbean. All the way down the coast.”

“That sounds amazing.”

He seemed surprised that I understood. “Yeah. I like the feeling that no one can touch you. And,” he added, raising an eyebrow, “it can do cool tricks.”

Max straightened and glanced behind him. He steered the boat to the right, gently at first.

“Wait, what are you…”

Then the boat turned on a dime, cutting back across its wake and splashing water high into the air, over the front of the boat and onto the deck.

Right into my face and my lap.

I shrieked.

Max grinned, his eyes squinting against the wind. “Sorry, Coyote. Wheel slipped.”

Cold water covered the seats and my legs, arms, and clothes. He hadn’t escaped unharmed either, and water droplets clung to his arms.

“I’m going to get you back for that,” I grumbled. Max just smiled, finally taking a seat. Maybe it was because we were on our way back, or because he was finally wound down enough to sit. Either way, he was close enough I could feel the warmth of his body. Could see every long finger of the hands that were competent on the wheel. Every strand of the ruddy hair that looked like some girl had been running her fingers through it.

I’d lost track of the number of times he’d surprised me tonight when he looked at me out of the corner of his eyes and asked, “You up for it?”

“What?”

He nodded toward the steering wheel.

A shiver ran through me but I couldn’t hide my smile. “You might regret this.”

“Oh, I know I will.” Max shook his head ruefully as I slid into his seat. When his body brushed mine as he took my seat, I blamed my shiver on the air.

The conversation between us started to flow, like a stream that had been blocked by mud and leaves. I released my judgement and he let go of his mistrust, and everything was simpler.

Max wasn’t chatty but he was genuine. Straightforward. The directness was refreshing, especially compared to the coy backstabbing that went on at Alliance.

Almost two hours had passed when Max steered the boat back to the dock. I’d “driven”—basically held us straight—for a few thrilling minutes under Max’s watchful gaze.

I stepped back onto the wooden planks and my stomach, which I’d almost forgotten after the first few minutes onboard, heaved.

Max stepped gracefully from the
Real Fantasy
onto the dock. My gaze was still locked on the planks at my feet.

“You all right?” he murmured, grabbing my shoulder to steady me as I swayed. In the dusk light and the fluorescents mounted high above the docks, his dark eyes probed mine. The hostility was gone, but I wasn’t sure what was left.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat.

The twilight glinted off the barbell in Max’s eyebrow and made the planes of his handsome face sharper. Standing in front of me, he was tall and hard and smelling distractingly good, now that I was close enough to have an opinion on it.

What’s more, he was looking at me almost like he wanted to be here.

A trick of the light.

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time,” I offered, tucking my bag under my arm. “Boating. Strip clubs.”

He blew out a breath. “I don’t know why I let Riley drag me to that place.”