It seemed like all the blood in Emmie’s body was rushing to her face. “Not exactly.”
“You can’t get enough of me.”
How did anyone on this planet come to have so much self-confidence? It wasn’t natural. Never mind that he was right. Kind of right. A little bit, at least. Dammit. Well, there was no way Emmie was going to admit it to him.
“Hockey games are part of my punishment,” she said.
Max put both gloved hands against the protective netting, and it sagged under his weight, drawing him closer to her. “What?”
“I’ve been court-ordered to do community work service and go to hockey games.”
“You’re joking. This is considered punishment?”
“Cruel and unusual.”
He flashed a smile so big it reached his eyes. Emmie’s stomach clenched.
“Shepherd!” the coach yelled. “No distractions.”
Max ducked his head and swung away from her without another word. Her chest was still warm from his smile, but her gut twisted with her inadvertent admission. How much had the words court-ordered sunk in with him?
Max wasn’t on Dan’s crew because of the courts. Maybe he’d thought the same was true for her. But she didn’t worry for long. It had likely been too loud for him to hear everything she said, and by the way he glanced her way every time he crossed by her corner of the rink, she was pretty sure he hadn’t heard. Or that he didn’t mind.
“You and Max seem to be becoming good friends,” said a feminine voice next to her. Emmie turned to look. The girl had long, raven-black hair pulled back in a blue-and-white knit headband that partially covered her ears. Emmie didn’t recognize her, but she guessed she was part of Max’s crowd.
“Not exactly,” Emmie said.
“He dedicated his game to you, and you two were talking outside the restaurant last night.”
“Oh that.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Well, yeah. But I don’t know him very well.”
“So, Max isn’t taking you to Snow Ball?” the girl asked.
Emmie sputtered and looked at her like she’d lost her mind.
The girl shrugged. “Just asking. He’s a nice guy if you don’t mind baggage.” She gave Emmie a small smile.
Baggage? Emmie thought. What baggage? The girl acted as if Emmie should already know. She didn’t. And as someone with plenty of baggage herself, Emmie wasn’t going to pry into Max’s personal life, even as curious as the girl’s words made her. Maybe his past explained the way he acted: like a raving lunatic one minute, and a charmer the next.
When Emmie didn’t say anything, the girl said, “I’m Lauren. Max and I go all the way back to kindergarten. I knew Jade. Katie was her cousin.” She gestured to a tall, thin girl with long, red hair curled into loose waves. Emmie recognized her from the Happy Gopher. She’d been the one to come over to their table.
“Uh-huh,” Emmie said. She didn’t understand the context for the comments, but the name Jade struck a chord. She thought she heard someone say the name as she passed them in the hall today. Max and Jade, they’d said.
“Nacho?” Marissa asked, arriving suddenly and shoving a plastic tray in between Emmie and Lauren. Some of the molten gold that passed for cheese dripped off the corner, landing an inch from the tip of Emmie’s shoe.
“None for me,” Lauren said, “but thanks.”
“Want to sit?” Marissa asked Emmie, giving Lauren a sideways glance. Marissa tilted her head in the direction of the home-side bleachers to make her meaning clearer.
“Yeah sure,” Emmie said, then to Lauren, “Guess we’re going.”
As they walked to find their seats, Marissa leaned into Emmie’s ear. “So now Lauren Schafer is seeking you out?”
“I’m not sure I’d put it that way,” Emmie said.
“Mmm-hmmm,” Marissa said with a wry smile. “You hear that sound?”
“What sound?” Emmie took off one of her mittens and dipped a chip into the cheese. It tasted like nothing that was natural to this planet, but it warmed her throat on the way down.
Marissa glanced up at the bleachers and nodded at Sarah who was saving them spots. Then she looked at Emmie knowingly and said, “It’s the telltale sound of a singing snail.”
The White Prairie Jackrabbits won 3–1. Max didn’t know how he survived it because shoveling snow all morning had about wiped him out. His muscles were screaming even before he took the ice. But still, he played hard and he played clean. He didn’t score, but he had three assists, and most importantly, he hadn’t spent a minute in the penalty box.
Chris ripped into the bag of M&M’s as soon as they got back in the locker room. “Open up, superstar. You get a treat.”
“Nice game, Shepherd,” Coach Polzinski said. “Sharp. Tough. All in. That’s what I like to see.”
Everyone pounded on one another’s shoulder pads. Tack started chanting. They all followed him until they dissolved into a thunderstorm of sticks beating the floor.
Later that night, Max lay in bed and thought about what a long day it had been. He felt like he’d packed two into one. And as happy as he was that he’d made some measure of progress with Emmie, he was even happier with the progress he’d made with himself. That is, if he didn’t count the Kyle incident, and Kyle wasn’t worth counting.
Max rolled over and took Jade’s picture in his hand. He hoped she wouldn’t be mad about how good he was feeling. She probably wanted him to suffer more. Longer. Max was sure he would, but he hoped she wouldn’t be mad at him for this moment of reprieve.
I’m sorry. More than you will ever know. Please don’t hate me forever, he thought. And then he closed his eyes.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JUST A RIDE
Emmie didn’t see Max after chemistry on Monday, and not at lunch either. It wasn’t that she was actively looking for him, but…yeah, maybe she was. It occurred to her that she’d never had to look for him before. Max was always right there. Remembering her first morning back, how she’d slipped on the tile, she added: Right where I needed him to be.
It bothered her that she was bothered. Why should she be surreptitiously searching the halls for him as she and Marissa made their way from the building and out to Emmie’s car? This was so very un-O’Brien of her.
She and Marissa were down the icy sidewalk and about to cross the driveway where the buses parked when Emmie heard someone behind her calling her name in a high-pitched, singsong way. EHHH-mmie. EHHH-mmie.
“Who is that?” she whispered to Marissa without slowing her pace. Marissa started to turn her head. “Don’t look!” Emmie said, grabbing her friend’s arm.
Marissa gave her a withering look. “How am I supposed to know who it is if I don’t turn around?”
“Okay, look. But make it look like you’re not looking.”
“I used to do ballet. Should I do a pirouette? I could check to see who it is while I’m spinning.”
“EHHH-mmie,” came the voice again.
“Oh, forget it,” Emmie said as she spun around to face her taunter. “What?”
“Were you punished sufficiently at my game, or did you maybe have a little fun?” It was Max. Of course, it was Max. Just like him to drop out of nowhere. The two girls walking with Max scrunched their eyebrows together at Max’s strange question. Emmie recognized them as Lauren (from the hockey game) and Katie (the redhead from the restaurant).
Emmie’s mouth popped open, ready to deliver a sharp response, but no words came out. Maybe that was because Lauren and Katie were standing so close to Max. It gave her a strange kind of twist in her stomach to see them acting so familiar. Almost possessive.
“Where were you today?” Emmie asked Max.
Lauren gave Emmie an amused smile, but the other girl glanced up at Max as if to ask, Who is this girl to you? Why does she care? And why are you looking so smug?
Max didn’t make any introductions. Instead, he dismissed the two girls, saying, “I’ll see you two later.”
Max’s friends gave Emmie, then Marissa, another up-and-down look, then walked ahead.
“You noticed I was gone?” Max asked.
“I noticed.” Emmie’s cheeks flared hot with her confession. “Are you happy?”
“Extremely,” he said, and Marissa smirked.
Emmie turned and kept walking toward the parking lot. Marissa trotted behind her as they passed between two buses and continued toward Emmie’s car in the far back corner.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Max said, right on their heels. “Did you have fun at the game?”
“Yeah,” Emmie said as she squeezed between a pickup and a station wagon. “I liked that you didn’t try to kill anyone.”
“I know,” he said on a sigh. Like it was some huge accomplishment. “I think it was because you were there.”
“Me?” Emmie asked, whipping around to face him.
Marissa choked with surprise, then tried to cover it up by acting like she had a cough. Emmie slapped her twice on the back. Maybe harder than necessary.
“Yeah, I think you’re like some kind of sedative for me.”
“You mean…Are you saying I’m boring?” It was a serious question, but also meant to give the conversation a different tone. Max sounded way too serious about what he was saying. It was bizarre enough. He didn’t have to say it in front of Marissa.
“Are you kidding?” he asked. “You’re like the least bor—”
“Oh shit,” Marissa said. “Emmie. Your car.”
“What?” Emmie asked, redirecting her focus. She barely even noticed when Max’s hand clamped around her arm, and that was because her windshield was smashed in. Like, completely. Not just a spiderweb of cracks but crumpled into the car like the whole thing was made of tissue paper.
Emmie ran the rest of the way to her parking spot, practically dragging Max along with her because he wouldn’t let go of her arm. She circled her car and groaned when she discovered all four tires were slashed. The word Pigeon was spray-painted over her back left fender—misspelled, which somehow made it worse—but what hurt the most were the five letters written across her trunk: W-H-O-R-E.
Max let go of Emmie’s arm as her body went rigid. Her brain couldn’t process what she was seeing. She knew who did it. She knew why. But she couldn’t believe they’d come to her school and done this in broad daylight. The words were like scalpels, carving holes in her heart and stomach. Her limbs went numb.
Max’s fist slammed down on the trunk of the car. The sudden noise made Emmie jump, as did her car on its shocks. Max’s eyes were wide. Emmie thought he might have actually growled.
“Who did this?” he asked, whispering through his teeth. “I’ll kill them!”
“Oh noooo,” Marissa said from the front of the car, unaware of the worst of it, not to mention Max’s barely controlled outrage. She leaned into the broken driver-side window. “Emmie, they took your hula girl.”
Emmie rolled her eyes, and Max grabbed her shoulders. “Was it that guy from Saturday morning?” His eyes glanced to the damning word painted on the trunk, his voice raw.
The way he looked and sounded scared her. It reminded her of the way he’d looked on the ice that first time she’d seen him play. Like he was a boulder rolling downhill, crushing everything in his path. It reminded her of junkies hungry for a fix. And it reminded her of Nick.
Max must have seen the flicker of fear in her eyes because his grip relaxed and he took a step back. That simple, tender act was all Max. It reminded her of no one else.
He could let anger consume him, but she could see now—up close—how hard he fought to control it. She remembered him mocking his diagnosis: I have what’s called an overinflated sense of vigilance, and she wondered what she’d done to be on the receiving end of his protection.
“Or one of his friends,” she whispered. She didn’t want Marissa to hear.
“Should we call your dad?” Marissa called back to them as she gingerly picked broken glass off the driver’s seat.
“No. Not my dad.” Emmie could handle this on her own, though it would be impossible to keep it from him forever. She needed time to figure out what to say. He would freak. He would probably have her on lockdown.
Marissa took a few steps away from the car, then seeing the way Max stood so close to Emmie, she said, “You know what? I think I’m going to catch a ride home with someone else.”
Emmie looked at Marissa as if she’d lost her mind. Of course she was going to catch a ride with someone else. So was Emmie. There was no way her car was drivable. It probably wasn’t even moveable.
“Oh hey, I see Justine,” Marissa said, grasping her first option with overplayed enthusiasm. “Max, you’ve got Emmie?”
“Yeah, I got her.”
“What?” Emmie asked, nearly yelling after Marissa as she walked quickly away. “Nobody’s got me. I’ve got me.”
She groaned when Marissa held up the back of her hand in dismissal. When Emmie turned back toward Max, she was glad to see the flare of his anger had faded away like a dying ember. His eyes went soft, and they searched her face for answers. There was something in his gentle expression that made her body soften and lean in to him.
“What is going on with you?” he asked.
The good feeling was replaced by a sour wave of shame. She didn’t need his sympathy. She’d managed to get herself into all this crap on her own, and she didn’t need someone to hold her hand now, no matter how good those hands might feel. Screw his concern. She was used to this. The words might be on her car now, but she’d never stopped hearing them in her head—Pigeon. Narc. Whore.
She needed Max to back off. She needed to be prickly.
“Nothing is going on with me,” she said. “Something’s going on with my car. Besides, it’s none of your business, so no need for you to get excited about it. Just…go, okay?”
The corner of his mouth tightened. “Nice try, Emmie.”
Emmie hated that she couldn’t scare him off. He had twelve inches and probably seventy pounds on her. He was used to facing huge guys on the ice. How was she going to intimidate him?
“Don’t lie to me,” Max said softly. His eyes flashed to the car, and she saw the anger return, only to quickly evaporate when he refocused on her. “Tell me what this is all about. I can’t stand back and let this go.”
“What do you mean, you can’t let this go? This isn’t your problem. It’s mine.”
Max gestured emphatically at the car. “Somebody screws with you, it’s my problem.”
“That’s bullshit,” she said, folding her arms. “You’re not my boyfriend.”
“Not yet.”
There were several beats of silence between them while Emmie let that sink in and Max—it seemed—tried to wrap his head around the fact that he’d said the words out loud. Finally, Emmie found her voice.
“Are you insane? Have you lost it? We’re not playing out some rerun episode of Degrassi High.”
A slight smile breached Max’s lips. “Looking at your car? Yeah, I think I’ve just about lost it.” His hands slipped from her shoulders, down her arms to wrap around her arm, but not like Nick used to grab her. This felt different, gentler, more pleading, like he needed her to hear him. Like his life depended on it. “Why are you mixed up with these people?”
“I’m not.” Emmie pulled away from Max. There was no way she was bringing him into any of this. “It’s none of your business. Thank you for your concern, but just go away. I’m sure Lauren and that Katie girl are waiting for you somewhere.”
“Go away?” he said flatly. “You can’t mean that.”
“I do. Just leave me alone.”
“With this car? Emmie, how are you going to get home?” He folded his arms. He had a point, and he knew it. Smug bastard.
“I—I don’t know. I’ll call a cab.”
“Do you have any money?”
Dammit.
Max tilted his head like he could read the unspoken answer in Emmie
’s eyes. “Please. Do me a favor. Let me give you a ride.”
“I can walk.” Emmie adjusted her backpack and glanced toward the road.
Max rolled his eyes and tipped his head back to look at the sky. He was trying to be patient with her. “You’re not walking home. Whoever did this to your car is probably still driving around. Where do you live?”
“Pioneer Drive. Behind Valley Floral.” As she said it, she knew how he was going to react.
His eyebrows came together like she was the most ridiculous girl who’d ever lived. “Are you telling me you were planning to walk over five miles? It’s freezing out here.”
She shrugged and pulled her jacket tighter around her. “I’m tougher than I look.”
Max dropped his chin and leveled her with a glance. His deep-brown eyes had nearly gone as dark as his pupils. “I have no doubt of that. You can’t be a pansy ass and shovel snow like you did, or sit through cruel and unusual punishment like a hockey game. And no wimpy girl is going to be nearly crushed by falling appliances or see her car totally trashed like this and not even cry a little. You’re tough as shit, Emmie. I see that. I’m just offering you a ride.”
Emmie held his gaze for as long as she could, then glanced away. She bit down on her lip, then whispered, “Fine.”
“Fine?” His voice went up like he was prepared for every answer except the one she gave him.
“Yeah, fine. I’ll take your ride.” She looked back at him and couldn’t stop herself from smiling, if only just a little, at the elation on his face.
“Good.” Max’s shoulders dropped as if he was letting go of several pounds of pressure and finally able to relax. “That’s the first rational thing you’ve said since you got outside.”
Emmie knew he was right, and she wished she could rewind things a few minutes. She’d promised herself she was going to be nice. She was supposed to be trying harder. “Yeah, about that. I’m sorry. My first instinct is always resistance.”
“Apology accepted,” he said as he ushered her between the cars in the next row.
“It’s not your fault I act like this,” she said.
Cold Hard Truth Page 9
