Maxed Steel

by Fields, MJ

  “That property we inquired about? Checked it out last night. Surfed it, too. I want a key.”

  “Done.” Dad leans forward. “What else?”

  “Welcome to the conversation, Jase.”

  “Always present, C.” He winks.

  “Gonna need a key by three o’clock. Give them whatever. Sign whatever.”

  “What else?”

  “I need a ring that means something.”

  Mom clamps her hand over her mouth. “Oh God.”

  “Mom, it’s not too soon. It’s actually two years too late, but I’ll make up for that,” I assure her. “And she’s not going to say no.”

  “Of course she won’t,” Dad agrees.

  “I know. I just …” Mom fans her face. “I’m so happy.”

  “Yeah, me, too. But about that ring …”

  * * *

  “Where are we?” she asks as she jumps out of the truck, scanning the parking lot where an older warehouse sits on twenty acres of land.

  “Best surfing area in Jersey,” I say, shutting her door then walking around the back of the truck. “This is where we came last night. Basic ploy to get you on a board with me.” I pull my shirt off and toss it in the back of the truck. Then I turn and pop my pecks at her. “So, tell me, Blue, what do you think?”

  “I think—”

  “Never mind,” I cut her off after looking down and seeing the two-tit salute. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

  She throws a punch in jest, and I step back.

  “Chill, babe, I love the way you think.”

  She shrugs and, in a voice, apparently trying to mimic mine, she says, “Give her good dick, and that’s all she’ll think about.”

  “Damn, Blue, you have a filthy mind.”

  “Oh please.” She crosses her arms. “That’s what you said Darcy should have done.”

  “And I stand by that,” I say, unstrapping my favorite board and pulling it out.

  “Gotta point out that I don’t even see a puddle here, so where exactly did you surf?”

  “Follow me, Blue. This horse will always lead you to water.”

  “Well, let’s get giddy-upping. We have a phone call in—”

  “An hour. I know, babe. I’m stoked, too.” And I am.

  Backpack over my shoulder, walking through the trees and overgrown brush, holding my board in front of me, freeing our way, we finally get to where the clearing begins. I see the big old house on stilts in the distance and get a bit emotional.

  “What do you think?”

  “What do I think?” she asks, looking up from the ground to me. “I think I’m a city girl and that was a bit terrifying.”

  “You afraid of trees, Blue?” I ask, moving the board under my arm and taking her hand.

  “Afraid of what might be in them and living in this overgrown mess. God, who would live like this on purpose?”

  Well, shit. I laugh to myself as I walk us toward the water.

  Surfs Up

  Mila

  “Gotta love an Indian summer,” Max says as he steps out of his gray sweats and stands there in white boxer briefs.

  “Yeah, sure do,” I grumble, batting away a blood-sucking mosquito, or whatever it is.

  “Blue, they aren’t going to hurt you.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s not gonna get a chance.” I smack at the damn thing and miss again.

  “All right, so, let’s get you out of these clothes and you and I out on the water.” He lifts my shirt from behind then up and over my head.

  “Dammit.” I jump to the side as the bug flies at me again.

  “Gotta be a male bug,” he says, kissing my neck and slipping his hands under my waistband, pulling my pants down slowly while kissing down my body with each inch of skin he exposes, the final kiss landing behind my knee. “Step out, babe.”

  I step out of my yoga pants, and he pulls them off my feet.

  Finger trailing along my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, he walks around me and hooks his pinky around mine, groaning as he then walks us toward the beach.

  At the edge of the water, we kick our sandals off and slowly wade in.

  “You know much about surfing?”

  “Enough.”

  “How many times you been on a board, Blue?”

  “Um, never.”

  “Grew up on the Shore and never been on a board?”

  “Not much surfing goes on in Bayside.”

  “True.” He pulls our hands up, kisses the back of mine, and then drops it. Setting the board on the water, he asks, “You wanna learn?”

  “Sure?”

  He laughs and pats the board. “Hop on.”

  I straddle the board, and he sets the backpack in front of me. “Hold on to this?”

  I grab it and pull it between my legs. “Got it.”

  “Totally wrong to envy a backpack, yeah?” he asks, dragging the board out farther into the ocean.

  “Plenty of time to bring this back to the beach and—”

  “You afraid of the water?” he asks, laying back in the water and floating in front of it.

  “Not at all,” I say as I watch the water lap over his ripped body, settling in the valleys between his abs.

  “Good, because I’d hate to have to give this up.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you, too.”

  “Appreciate that, babe. But, if there’s ever anything at all that you want me to work on, I will.”

  I look up to the sky. “Thank God.”

  “Damn, I thought I had more than a minute for you to come up with something.”

  “You sure you want to hear it,” I say, fighting a smile as I look down at him.

  “Sure?”

  Leaning forward, pushing his bag ahead of me, all the way to the front of the board, I lay down and pull my feet out of the water, stretching them out behind me. Resting my chin on the bag, I watch as he moves his body so he’s just head and shoulders above water, maneuvering himself beside me. Then I lean over, rest a hand on his shoulder, and tell him, “Just one thing.”

  “Anything.” He leans forward

  “Do not ever wear gray sweats to the gym, or I’m gonna go Bayside on the bitches I catch staring at you.”

  When he starts laughing, I move my hand to the top of his head and push him underwater. The water is clear enough that I see him smiling, and it’s just as brilliant as when I’m face to face with him.

  I watch his palms rise as he pushes himself deeper and deeper underwater until I can no longer see him.

  When a few seconds turn to ten, I sit up, hands still on the bag, and look around. “Max! This isn’t funny!” I yell.

  He pops up in front of the board and says, “Scoot back,” as he lifts himself on the board.

  Grabbing the bag and the back of the board so I don’t slide forward, he pops up on it, straddling it as he leans forward.

  “Lips.”

  I lean in and kiss him. When I attempt to move back, he cups the back of my head and places one, two, three, four, five soft kisses against my lips.

  Resting his forehead against mine, he closes his eyes, and a ghost of a smile appears then disappears. “Love you so much, Blue.”

  “Love you, too, Max.”

  Eyes still closed, he leans back and takes the bag. When he opens them, he looks down and reaches inside. I can’t see what he’s doing because the man has huge hands, and yes, it is incredibly sexy.

  “Not even a week into our second chance, and I can’t get enough of you, Miller. Slept exactly two hours last night and basically every night since I saw you again. It’s always two hours too many. I’m having a hard time stopping the replay in which I vividly see all the moments I should have manned the fuck up and forced you to listen to me, begged you to give me a second chance and—”

  “We both have regrets, Max. But we’re here now, right?” I can see the pain and frustration in his eyes, and it hurts me that he’s hurting.

  “Yeah, Blue, I know. I also kno
w we can’t turn back time. So, then I lie there, forcing myself to stay away.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, Mila”—he shakes his head and laughs out a huff—“I know that old house on stilts isn’t much, and I know there’s a lot of brush to clear, but I said fuck it and paid the bank what they were asking for the foreclosure of twenty acres—this house and the warehouse. I’m hoping very soon … I’m hoping you and I can—”

  “Wait—what!”

  “Gotta finish school, and I know you do, too, so—”

  He’s speaking a mile a minute, and I’m so confused, so I interrupt him.

  “Max, slow down and—”

  “I love you, Blue. So fucking much.”

  “I love you, too, Max. I …” And then … my words are gone.

  In front of me, Max holds up something very … very shiny and says, “I love you more than sailboats and blue hearts. I always will. I’m asking, but I also am not too proud to beg you, Mila Miller, to marry me. Be my wife. I promise you that you’ll never regret it.”

  I have attended church since the accident. I have heard a million accounts of people seeing the light and wanting so desperately to walk into its warmth, and most of those stories have ended in a quiet cry in the shower, wondering why they would all come back, but my mother didn’t. Right now, I swear I feel that warmth, that love, that embrace, and its source is not a light, and it’s certainly not asking me to leave everything behind, but it’s no more a miracle.

  Two and a half years ago, when I sent that message with no reply, I was hit with the resounding fact that I would never feel what I felt for anyone the way I felt for Max. Regardless of the fact he wasn’t in my life, that he didn’t respond, at least I had that one experience with someone who made me smile and told me I was beautiful. It was not just words; he made me feel that way, too. I had that time leading up to our night on the boat to learn what it was I would accept into my life—someone who did not hit a woman, as my father had my mother, or talk down to one, as Marc had me when he treated me like a delusional piece of ass.

  Had Max not been in my life, even though he didn’t stay, it taught me a lesson, one that I swear taught me how to break a cycle of settling for less than I knew every human being deserves—more than food on the table and a roof over my head.

  “Blue, babe, I’m dying here.”

  I nod. “Yes. Yes, please.”

  When he slips the ring on my finger, I don’t even look at it. I hug him so tightly, and he hugs me back the same, and we kiss slowly. Kissing slowly might even be my favorite kind of kiss.

  After making our way out of the water, we walk up the beach, hand in hand.

  Max nods toward the house. “It’s not much now, but you wanna check it out?”

  “Of course.”

  “If you don’t like it, just tell me. I can flip the property, and we’ll get something—”

  “Max, you had me at foreclosure.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “Perfect. But did you check out that warehouse?”

  “Party spot?”

  “Hell no. Saylor’s not gonna be grabbing us beers at two and, at Cia’s age, she doesn’t need to be around a bunch of frat boys and chicks who think it’s cool to hook up.”

  “You want …?” I shake my head, trying not to get choked up by what he just said.

  “Both of them as soon as we can, Mila. There’s some great high schools close by, and JU doesn’t have family housing, but they do have childcare.”

  I exhale slowly then inhale deeply.

  “You good?” he asks as we stand at the bottom of the two-story, weather-worn house with faded wooden siding.

  “I am. I definitely am.”

  “Worried about your aunt, though, yeah?”

  I nod.

  “Talked to Pastor today. I’m not thinking it’ll be a month after we get this place in shape that she’s changing her name, but that stays between you and I.”

  “He said that?” I gasp.

  “Yeah, he did.”

  When I am temporarily blinded by my ring, I finally look down at it. “Oh. My. God.”

  “You like it?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Blue diamonds are pretty rare. Took a village to help get what I know you deserve. Hoping you’re a platinum girl, too. If not, the jeweler is a family friend. He said he’d change the band if—”

  “I’m not taking this off ever. And when I take your name, I’m not giving that back, either. You’re mine, Max.”

  “No sweeter words ever spoken,” he says as he sweeps me up in his incredibly strong arms.

  I wrap my legs around him as he kisses me harder this time, and I guess I like this kind of kiss just as much as I did the soft one. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m going to love every kind of kiss Max and I share.

  Pulling away from each other to take a breath, we both smile at one another, and I’m sure if anyone took a picture of us, we would both look like fools … fools in love.

  He takes the stairs, still holding me, and opens the door.

  Looking over my shoulder as he walks us in, I can’t help but laugh when I see a banner hung high from the railings above us that says, “Congratulations Max and Mila.”

  Max sighs exaggeratedly as I slide down his body. “I could have protected you from this, but you bought in, hook, line, and sinker, when you called them last night to fuck with me.”

  “No regrets,” I say as I look around.

  “You think this will work?”

  “The kitchen is bigger than my apartment. I think I’ll need a map.”

  “I was thinking we kick out some walls, open it up, so that I can see you and Saylor from whatever room I’m in.”

  “Love that idea, too. Do you think the fireplace works?”

  “If it doesn’t, it will. Maybe do one of those electric ones, or gas with a gate around it, so Saylor doesn’t get near it.”

  I look up.

  “There are four bedrooms up there, and one down here. I was thinking we should be up there with the girls, and if Pam comes and visits, she’ll have the room downstairs with its own bathroom.”

  “I’m not sure she can make the walk.”

  “Blue, that’s why God made excavators and the Falcon family. They know how to do all that shit. We’ll have a driveway up to the house. A garage, too.”

  “We can do some of the work to save money, too,” I say as I walk into the kitchen area.

  “Um, yeah, sure. Justice and Gabby did a lot of work themselves to their place. Took more time than I’m hoping this will take. Kind of want Saylor here as soon as we can get her here.”

  “Me, too, but Cia may put up a fight. She’s the reason we didn’t move to the West Coast and live with Pam.”

  He reaches his hand out to me, and I take it. “Her room just got an upgrade for that. Can’t imagine living with that empty feeling I didn’t know I was living with for the rest of my life.”

  #Shesaidyes

  Max

  The way she’s looking at this place is the same ways she keeps looking at the ring, like she not sure it’s real, like she’s dreaming.

  Upstairs, I follow her around from room to room, and she straight-up seems to love it. Me? I like the bones.

  “Which room would be ours?” she asks as she stands on the balcony where my folks obviously snuck up and hung the sign, looking down to the main level.

  “Both rooms on the far left and far right are about the same size. Totally up to you.”

  “Hmm.” She turns around and looks at the two in the middle. “Which would be Saylor’s?”

  “Guess that would depend on which one’s ours. Thinking we’d wanna keep her closest to us, yeah?”

  She looks at me and nods, but fuck if she doesn’t look sad.

  I step toward her and hold my arm out, pulling her in with the other. “Too much?”

  “A lot overwhelming, but in the best way possible.” She steps back and looks at both the
rooms. “A lot.”

  “Let’s just say”—I take her hand, walk to one of the doorways, and step in—“you want her in this room.”

  She looks around and inspects it. I’m watching her, wondering just what in the hell she’s seeing in a room that’s completely empty.

  When she sighs, I drag her out into the hallway and into the room right next to it. “And a couple months, years, days—hell, Blue, even a couple minutes—you think this is a better choice, we move her into this one.”

  Amused as fuck, I watch as she does the same thing—looks around an empty room like there’s something to see.

  After a couple minutes, I ask, “You feel better now?”

  “Nope. Not one bit.”

  I laugh, and she sighs as if she’s frustrated, and it’s not with me, which is kind of a relief, but not totally.

  “All right.” I step out and drag her with me to one of the two larger rooms on the end. “Do you see this as ours or Cia’s?”

  She lets go of my hand and walks up to the window that has a kick-ass view of the ocean.

  “Mom loves the big windows at their place, but freaked out about cleaning them. Dad and I did it a few times with ladders and shit, and then he hired someone to come in each season and do them. She thought we were getting better at it—no streaks, she exclaimed—and Dad was all proud of it, took the credit without actually saying he did it.

  “One day, she came home when they were there, and Dad was in the doghouse for a week. So, heads-up, Blue, if you stand at the bottom of a ladder and point out streaks, I’m hiring someone to get it done.”

  She looks back and shakes her head. “We can do it. No need to waste money.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Girl has no clue, none, and that seriously makes me love her even more.

  She looks around some more, still looking lost, and I take her to the room on the other side of the house.

  “Tell me, Goldilocks, how does this one feel?”

  She does the same shit with the windows, the looking around, the lost look, and says, “Carpeting is cheaper than refinishing these wood floors.”