Thursday Nights (The Charistown Series) (34 page)

Lyla closed her eyes and gave a slight nod, which confirmed Janie’s greatest fear.

But that confirmation gave Janie the strength to move forward. “I’m done pretending my needs don’t matter so that the men in my life can be happy. But while I won’t sacrifice my own happiness like my mother did, I won’t be like my father or like every man that crossed the threshold after he left. My needs aren’t the only ones that matter. If I can’t trust Max to play his part and be honest not only with me but with himself…” Her vision began to blur from the watery sadness that weighed on her heart. “Then, I have to walk away. I never understood the expression ‘Sometimes love just isn’t enough,’ but I guess sometimes it isn’t.”

“Honey,” Ashley—a woman who was always filled with spice, sass, and sarcasm—had a faraway look that Janie had never seen before on her face. “You’re right…sometimes love isn’t enough. But this isn’t that time. I have knowledge that you don’t, and that is years of friendship with Max. I’ve never seen him the way he is with you. Don’t run away until you talk to him. You may be surprised by what you learn when you just take some time to listen.”

“Wow, you were right, Jane. She
can
be really insightful when she isn’t acting all scary!” Lyla nudged Ashley, trying to lighten the mood. “Speaking of scary—Janie, honey…” Lyla pried the coffee out of Janie’s hands and dumped it in the trash can. “I’m thinking you should lay of the liquid life support for the rest of the day. And go take a nap. You look like ass.”

The woman left the coffee shop with hugs and kisses, and Janie went up to her apartment to spend the rest of her Saturday eating fruit snacks and Circus Peanuts, and drifting in and out of sleep.

Max hadn’t actually heard her voice in nearly a week. And the last time she’d been screaming at him, telling him to never speak to her again. Every time he thought of Monday night, all he could see was the hurt and betrayal covering in her normally radiant face. All he could hear was the pain and the discord in her usually melodic tone. He did that to her; he put that doubt in her eyes. Those images of Janie would be forever branded in his memory.

He had hoped that his letters, his explanations, would be enough to help her understand how he had gotten so lost in his life. Each time his phone rang or he got a text he felt his pulse spike, only to feel rejected when it was anyone but her.
What did you expect? For her to read about your fucked-up past and feel sorry for you?
The thought was a punch in the gut.

“That’s it!” Small pieces of advice that had been offered by his friends over the past few weeks started coming together like a puzzle in his mind. He was done watching his life; it was time to start living it.

His heart pounded in his chest as he ran from his kitchen down the hall into his home office. He had been spending a lot of time there the past few days, between writing the letters for Janie and working on the project with Lyla.

As if his thoughts conjured her up, his cell rang. “Hey, Ly. Is it done?”

“Yes.” He could hear her smile through the phone line. “And it’s great, if I do say so myself…which I do.” She chuckled.

“Of course, you do,” he teased. “Listen, I wanna talk, but I have to make some changes to the story. I just thought of something that she really needs to know—”

Lyla cut him off midsentence. “Max, there are a lot of things she
really
needs to know. I promised myself I would stay out of it, so I will, but listen up…be really clear about what you’re looking for in terms of a relationship with her. She’s learned to be strong…and damn, Max, she is…but the same rules apply to you.”

“You know Lyla, I’m not sure if you are finally starting to make sense, or if I’m getting becoming as fucked up as you, but I totally understood what you just said. And those are the changes I’m making as we speak. Can you drop off the cover this afternoon?”

“Yep. And Max, F-Y-I…she isn’t coming to dinner tomorrow night. She says she’s sick.”

Her sickness must have been contagious because Max felt his stomach clench, and his lunch begin to rebel. He couldn’t do this any longer. He was going to see Janie Silver tomorrow…whether she was ready or not.

It felt strange not being with Lyla on a Sunday. Strange wasn’t quite the right word…sad, lonely, isolated, just plain bad.
Yeah, that about covers it
, Janie thought. But this isolation was self-imposed—she needed just one more day to get herself together before she returned to normal life. Whatever normal was.

She had spent all of Sunday morning trying to remember what it was like before she and Max added the “who have sex” to their friendship status. Sure, it had only been a few weeks, but those weeks were packed with enough emotional angst to fill a season of
The Vampire Diaries
minus the vampires, werewolves, and witches.

Having just gotten out of the shower, Janie absentmindedly ran a brush through her long, wet tresses. She needed to talk to Max.
Oh, that should be a great conversation
, she thought.
Thanks for sharing your deep, dark secrets––at my insistence, mind you–– but we can’t be together because we’re both too fucked up.

A stilted laugh escaped her lips as slipped on her favorite pink Henley and a pair of black leggings. “Are you going to regret this?” she asked her saddened reflection in the mirror. She didn’t hear an answer, not that she expected one, because a loud knocking came from her front door.

A quick glance at the time as she padded barefoot to the door told her it was five o’clock. Just about everyone she knew was at Lyla’s.

She could hear her heart slamming in her chest and her blood flowing through her ears when she looked through the peephole. Standing on the other side was the beautiful, strong man who had finally opened his heart when he opened his past to her.

Max heard the clink of the lock, and his breathing was shallow as he watched the door slowly open. Her face came into view, and Max inhaled sharply. He felt like it was the first full breath he had taken since she walked away from him the week before, since he stood there and watched her go. And now there she was, her hair wet, the smell of coconut and lime emanating from her skin. The fragrance had his mouth watering as he used what felt like superhuman strength to keep his fingers from reaching out and touching her. He was speechless.

“Max?” she croaked. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at Lyla’s?”

“I heard you were sick.”

He grinned, and she swore her knees went weak. She reached for the doorjamb to help stabilize her suddenly boneless legs.

“I brought you some soup.”

In his hands was take-out from the same restaurant she had gone to when she brought him soup a couple of weeks before, along with another bag. If it was possible, her heart beat even faster. “I gave you my past Janie…” He walked past her frozen body into her apartment.

Once she steadied herself, she followed him back toward her kitchen. “Max…”

Her eyes looked so sad. He had never seen her look so torn. Part of him was scared and wanted to turn around and leave, but the other part, the stronger part, knew this woman, this
love
was worth the long and painful journey he took to get here.

“Janie, I’m worth so much more than my past,” he began. “I know you have doubts. I can see them written all over your beautiful face.” He stood so close to her. His fingers caressed her cheek as he tilted her face up to his. He looked directly into her cautious blue eyes. “And you would be a fool not to.”

He reached into the first bag and pulled out containers of soup and loaves of sourdough bread. “First, I’m gonna make us something to eat.” He then opened the second bag and pulled out a three-ring binder. He watched as her eyebrows pinched together in confusion and then as her eyes grew wide in recognition.

“Max, what is this?” She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. On the counter in front of her sat a binder, but under the plastic sheath was what could only be described as a book cover. A thousand butterflies took flight in her belly as she stared at the cover.

On it was a picture of her and Max at the Fourth of July picnic Danny and Julie hosted at their house. She and Max were lying on a yellow blanket on the grass. The picture caught them laughing—she would never forget that moment. They’d been talking about their first kisses, and Max told her how he sneezed in the middle of his first kiss, right on the girl. He explained how she was trying to ignore the fact that his spit was on her glasses, but he started laughing and the girl told everyone he was the worst kisser ever. They were hysterical when Lyla had snapped that picture.

Janie’s eyes drifted down to the words under the photo:

Meet Me Halfway

by Max DeLucca

(cover by L.P. Jodes)

The same title ran down the spine of the binder.

“L.P. Jodes? How did you—Max, what is this?” The thoughts were coming faster than her mouth could form words.
How did he know about Lyla’s pen name? What was going on?

He watched as she bit her bottom lip and stared between the cover and him. Complete bewilderment overpowered her ability to speak, so he spoke for her.

“Janie, you’ve been giving me pieces of yourself since the day we met. I know how hard some of those pieces were to give. And I know I was greedy; I took them because I wanted to know everything I could about the amazing woman that entered my life. You asked for me to give you the same and still I withheld until it was too late. But now, you have my past.” He ran his hand over the binder before sliding it to her. “But this…you are my present. My here and now. I know you have questions. I have answers. All I ask is that you read this first, and then we can talk about whatever there is still left to say.”

His eyes were begging her to accept this proposal. Truth be told, her heart was melting at an alarming rate.

“Okay, Max. I’ll read it, but what are you going to do?” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“I told you, I’m making dinner. Heating soup is quite a challenge.” He winked and her heart melted a little more.

Picking up the binder, she held it close to her chest, as she walked down the hall to her bedroom. Sliding her pink, chenille blanket off her bed, she padded back to the main room and curled up on the couch.

He watched as she draped the blanket, her “shield against all things evil,” over her body. Memories of the countless movies they watched together, where she would hide her eyes in that blanket, flashed through his mind. He could feel his smile widen as he turned from her to the cabinet to locate the pot for the soup.

Taking a few deep cleansing breaths, Janie finally steadied her hands enough to open the cover of the beautiful book:

Once, not so long ago, there was a man who had lived a life that left him devastated, insecure, untrusting, and bent. Believing he had somehow lost his one true chance at love, he lived each day as it was, never looking back and never, ever looking forward. He was content enough; he had jobs that made him happy, money in the bank that made him secure, and the company of women for when he got lonely. Life was simple…easy.

Until one Thursday night.

He was working behind the bar when the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen walked in, and the very foundation on which he stood began to shake. She had a smile that lit up the room and a laugh that sounded like a song. Her eyes, when they fell upon him, stopped time.

“
Stay away from that woman,”
he thought to himself. “
She is a keeper, and you don’t do keepers
.”

But he couldn’t stay away because, week after week, she entered his orbit and rocked his world. She was kind and sweet and warm. She was all of the things he had never had before, all of the things he swore couldn’t possibly exist. But there she stood, time after time, laughing and loving and slowly finding her way into his mind. He couldn’t have her... He
wouldn’t
have her.

As the months went by they became friends. But they were more than friends, even from the start. They were lovers who had never made love. Their passion was all consuming, yet never consumed. He knew her likes and dislikes, and she knew his. They talked with ease and shared comfortable silence. They often occupied the same space, but on the occasion when they would touch, his skin would burn with desire for her. He knew she felt it too; he could see the desire in her eyes. But still he tried to stay away.