by Cora Carmack
When he started to pull back, I shot forward and kissed him again. He released my hands, and I grasped the bulge of his shoulders. His teeth grazed my bottom lip in an almost-bite, and I lost it.
All my excuses were buried deep beneath the heat of his body against mine. I pressed my hips into his, and he groaned into my mouth. I couldn’t control myself. My hands trailed from his waist to his chest, and he held me tighter in response. I spun us, and started pulling him toward my bed.
His hand slid down to my ass, and his kiss was so devastating and consuming that I wanted to rejoice or scream or cry.
The back of my knees hit the bed at the same time that he pulled away.
His eyes were dark, and his breathing labored. “Whatever stupid reasoning you’ve got for staying away from me, it’s wrong. And I won’t stop until I’ve proven it to you.”
Then he left, and I fell back on my bed in shock.
It took nearly five minutes before I could do anything but sit there with my fingers pressed to my swollen lips.
As soon as I heard Mom bustling around downstairs, I pulled myself out of bed. It was still dark out, but even without a sufficient amount of sleep, my strength felt renewed. Maybe Cade had kissed some confidence into me the night before. Whatever the reason, my heart was eerily steady as I dressed that morning. I put on the scoop-neck shirt that I’d started the day in yesterday.
I pulled my hair around to the side and did a quick loose braid that left the other side of my neck and my birds completely visible. The shirt only showed the very tips of my branches, but the lines were dark enough such that they couldn’t be missed. I replaced the plastic retainers with my usual ear piercings.
This moment was years in the making.
I’d spent so much of my life, too much of it, altering myself to please other people. This was my crossroads moment, and nothing would be the same on this new road, including me.
Before I could change my mind, I went next door to the guest room and knocked.
Cade opened the door, already up and ready for the day. His hair was damp and curled around his face. I could smell the familiar, masculine scent of him from here. Last night came rushing back at me, and it took a serious amount of self-control not to throw myself at him.
He said, “Good morning.”
His tone was cautious, like maybe I had come to deliver an angry tirade of my own. But I wasn’t angry, just . . . on the verge of hyperventilating.
All the calm I’d woken up with disappeared upon seeing him. Somehow, he made it all feel real. My control crumbled, and my throat felt like it was going to close up. He must have seen the freak-out coming because he pulled me into his room and closed the door behind us. I turned my back on him and said, “Just give me a second.”
I pressed my palms into my eyes to try to stop the tears that were building there.
“Max . . .” His voice was soft and came from right in front of me.
“I’m okay,” I whispered without lowering my hands. I hated getting emotional, but nothing was worse than getting emotional in front of another person.
His arms circled me, and I sunk into his chest. My breath rattled in my chest, and I fisted my hands in the front of his shirt.
“You can do this,” he said.
There it was . . . the belief. He had far more in me than I had in myself. If nothing else good came of this, at least there was that.
“It won’t be easy,” he said. Understatement of the year. “But your parents love you, Max.” I laughed, even though nothing was funny. My throat was thick with emotion. He brought a hand up and pulled my hands from my eyes. “And if they can’t see how amazing you are, they’re blind.”
I swallowed, and my throat felt raw. I didn’t know what I’d ever done to deserve him. I didn’t know why he would come anywhere near someone as toxic as me, but I was thankful.
Silence filled the room, but it was the comfortable kind of quiet that Cade and I had had before everything had changed. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t need to.
He held out his hand, and I latched onto it like I was falling and he was the only thing that could save me.
“I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Some of the tightness in my chest eased, and I nodded.
“Thank you,” I said.
“I don’t know why you’re thanking me.”
I remembered the way he’d put himself out there last night and said, “You faced your demons, and came out on top. So, maybe I can, too.”
He smiled and squeezed my hand.
“Come on, Fearless Girl.”
I was far from fearless, but knowing he thought I was provided me with half the courage I needed. We left the guest room, and descended the stairs together.
Dad was watching television, and Mom was messing with something in the kitchen when we came downstairs. Michael was on his phone, and the Antichrist was flipping through a Better Homes and Gardens magazine.
Bethany saw me first, and her jaw dropped. God, it felt good to be the cause of that horrendous look on her face. I hoped it stuck that way.
She called, “BETTY!” Her face turned smug, and I thought back to Cade’s question the night before. Why did she hate me? Probably because, just like my parents, she liked her world nice and neat and clean. I wasn’t any of those things, with or without the tattoos.
Cade squeezed my hand, and I took the deepest breath that I could get. Mom came in from the kitchen drying a pan with a towel and said, “Yes?”
Bethany pointed in my direction. I took a few steps until I was all the way in the living room. Cade kept close by my side. Mom’s eyes settled on me, but it was several long seconds before she really saw me. She dropped the pan and it clanged against the hardwood floors. Her face passed through a spectrum of emotions that normally I would have found funny, except that I had no idea which one she would end up landing on. It was like Wheel of Fortune, only all the good possibilities had been removed. Dad looked up from the television just as Mom said, “Mackenzie Kathleen Miller, how could you do such a hideous thing to your body?”
It stung, but I kept my expression as blank as possible.
Dad asked, “What horrible thing?” He turned to face me, and I saw the anger wash over him. Out of the two of them, he was the more unpredictable one. He stood slowly, his motions stiff and small. His eyes flitted between my neck and my ear piercings and back again.
“What in the name of God have you done?”
His tone was soft, but clipped. This was the scariest version of him—still and silent and like the calm before the storm. Mom came to stand by Dad, and he took her under his arm. She turned weepy and mopped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Why does she do these things to us?” she asked him.
All my anxiety ignited into anger.
“I didn’t do this to you. I made a choice about what to do with my body. It had nothing to do with either of you.”
My father exploded. “You mark yourself up like some kind of . . . tramp on the street, and you expect it not to bother us?” He didn’t raise a hand to me, but he might as well have. It hurt just as bad.
“Mick.” Cade’s voice cut in, hard and firm. Dad paused, and I could see his embarrassment and fury at having someone outside the family witness this conversation.
“Son, I think you should leave us alone to deal with this.”
Panic crushed me, and I crushed Cade’s hand between mine in return.
“With all due respect, sir, I’m not going anywhere.”
Mom sputtered in disbelief, and Dad fumed. I didn’t want them to hate Cade for something that was all about me. I took a step closer and said, “I know you don’t like these kinds of things, but—”
“Don’t like them?” Mom’s voice turned hysterical. “We raised you in the Church. You’ve been taught since you could speak that your body is a temple, and now you’ve destroyed it. You know what the Bible says about those kinds of abominations.�
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“The Bible also says to give away your riches, but you guys sure haven’t bothered to do that. And I didn’t destroy my body. There are no needle tracks on my arms. I’m not addicted to anything, nor have I become a prostitute, Dad. This is art that means enough to me that I made it a part of myself.”
“Squiggly lines mean a lot to you?” Dad barked. “And birds? Yes, I can understand why birds mean a lot to you.”
“Freedom means a lot to me.”
“I’m glad to hear that because you’re going to get plenty of it. If that’s what you do with the money we give you—mutilate yourself and ruin all your chances of having a decent, respectable life—then we’re done helping you.”
That news hurt a lot less than I thought it would. In the grand scheme of things, their money meant nothing. It was the least important thing they could take from me.
“You’ve not been interested in helping me in a long time.”
Dad said, “I mean it, Mackenzie. You better hope your little music thing works out because you’ll not get a decent job anywhere else looking like that.”
I couldn’t stay there anymore without doing something crazy. I gritted my teeth and spat out, “My name is Max. Max. And that ‘little music thing’ is my life. I’m tired of you trying to turn it and me into what you want. I’m not Mackenzie, and I’m not Alexandria.”
Mom gasped like I’d slapped her. Even that made me furious. She threw around Alex’s name all the time, trying to push photos and old knickknacks on me. But the minute we tried for honesty about my sister and me, I’d apparently taken it too far.
I spun around and went to the table at the end of the foyer where Mom and Dad kept all the car keys. I found the familiar key of the car I used to drive before I moved to Philly.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Mom cried.
“To clear my head. I’ll be back when being here doesn’t make me sick to my stomach.”
Though at the moment, the answer to that felt like never.
It was becoming harder to breath, and I knew exactly where I would go—the same place I always went when I wished for a different life.
39
Cade
I’d almost dragged her out of there several times myself. I knew it would be difficult for her to have it out with her parents, but I hadn’t anticipated how much it would affect me, nor could I ever have dreamed her parents would have reacted so badly. I thought parents were supposed to love unconditionally? I assumed they would be mad, scream a bit, maybe cry, then settle down and talk it out like adults. When her father called her a tramp, I very nearly hit a man that was three times my age.
I followed Max out a door in the kitchen that opened into the garage. I expected her parents to come after us, but they didn’t do that either. Her parents had a three-car garage. At the far end was a black Volvo that lit up when Max pressed a button on her key. I tried to catch up to her, but she was already opening the car door, and it blocked my path.
“Max—”
“Just get in the car, Cade.”
Thank God. I was worried she wanted to leave without me. Needless to say, going back into that living room would have been awkward. I jogged around to the other side and slid into the passenger seat. The electric garage door was already opening, and as soon as it was up, Max peeled out of the garage, tore down the driveway and out into the street. She shifted the car into drive and slammed on the gas.
“Max, be careful, please.”
She slowed down a little, but not much.
“I’m sorry,” I said. God, that seemed so inadequate. All of this was my fault. “I never should have made you do that. I am so sorry.”
She smiled, and her eyes were watery. “Don’t be.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you. You were scared, and apparently with good reason.”
“I always find a good reason to be scared, Golden Boy. I think it’s time I got over that, don’t you?”
I knew what she was saying, and my heart tried to soar, but I was still too torn up over what I’d witnessed. Anything that made tears form in her eyes was something I never wanted her to have to face. For the first time, I felt afraid of where this was heading, afraid of the depth of my feelings for her.
My life moved at a slow pace. It took months before I had feelings for Bliss. Never before had I felt so intensely and so quickly. Max swept into my life like a hurricane, and I never stood a chance.
She made a sharp left turn, then a right, and another left. We were in subdivision hell, and for all I could tell, it looked like we were back on the same street. She turned right again and dead-ended into a two-lane highway. She made a left, and we drove toward the rising sun. Her knuckles began to relax against the steering wheel. The farther away we got from her parents, the calmer she looked.
“Where are we going?”
She sighed. “To the only place more depressing than home.”
Every time I thought I understood her a little bit more, I was proven wrong.
“Why?” I asked.
She looked at me. Her hair glowed in the light of the waking sun. Her eyes were a bottomless ocean that I would give up air to explore. A perfect moment passed, uninterrupted by the world, unhurried by time, untainted by fear of the past or the future. And she answered, “Closure.”
We drove for another five minutes until we reached a hill on a deserted stretch of highway. Trees lined each side of the road, and they curved over the highway like a tunnel. At the top of the hill was the sun, and it looked like we’d drive right into it if we didn’t stop. It was breathtaking. The kind of scene you see in landscape photos and paintings. Max pulled over into a ditch just before the hill and trees started. She turned off the ignition and sat there, staring for a moment. Her gaze was so intense that I didn’t want to say anything. Whatever this place was, it meant more to her than just pretty scenery.
Quietly, she spoke. “Come with me.”
She removed the key and shoved it into the pocket of her jeans. She opened the door and started walking along the highway toward the hill. I unbuckled my seat belt and hurried after her. She was silent as she trudged through the knee-high grass. I followed behind her and realized there was a small trail worn into the earth. The grass and weeds bent backward out of our way, and I had a feeling that this path was of Max’s making.
Her breath came heavier as the hill inclined, but she didn’t slow or waver. She also didn’t speak. When we reached the top, my shirt was stuck to my back with sweat, and I’d removed my coat despite the cold. Max had left hers at the house, but she didn’t even answer when I offered mine.
The path veered off its straight line toward a rocky outcrop at the top of the hill. Max followed and climbed with practiced ease to the top of the largest rock. I followed, trying to step in the same places that she had. I sat beside her, and our feet dangled off the edge of the rock. We were underneath the cover of the trees, and we could see down both sides of the hill where the highway stretched into the distance.
It was peaceful up here. You couldn’t see any glimpse of the city, nor was there a car or house in sight. I could understand why she would come here. This far away from life, in the middle of nowhere, your soul felt bigger somehow.
She took a shaky breath, pointed to the road, and said, “My sister died right there, while I watched.”
All the air rushed out of my lungs, and my soul, which had felt clear and infinite moments ago, was mangled. She’d said it quietly and calmly with no hesitation, but I could see the toll the words took on her. Her hands were knotted tightly in her lap. She was still and stiff except for the swallowing motion of her throat that repeated every few seconds.
“I was thirteen and at some ridiculous sleepover out in the boondocks that I hadn’t wanted to go to, but Mom had made me. So . . . as I so often do, I acted like a bitch and pissed off the girl throwing the party. Mom sent Alex to come get me.”
She looked up at the purple and pink morning sk
y and pressed her lips together. “Alex was good about stuff like that. Most teenagers would have pitched a fit over having to come get their little sister on a Saturday night, but not Alex. She was upset about something, and I kept bugging her to tell me what it was. That was when I found out why she was at home on a Saturday night. Mom and Dad had found pot in her room, and she was pretty much grounded for eternity. That’s part of why my parents are so crazy conservative now.”
Max sniffed and pressed the back of her left hand to her mouth for a moment. Then she reached for the leather cuff bracelet on her wrist and removed it. On the pale skin of the inside of her wrist was a tattoo I’d never noticed before. It read 11:12. Something started to sink in my stomach, and I steeled myself for what I knew was coming next.
“It was 11:12.” Her voice broke, and tears started sliding down her face. “I know because I was messing with the radio, trying to find a decent station out here in the middle of nowhere. Alex was talking about how unreasonable Mom and Dad were. The pot was Michael’s, but she didn’t want to tell on him, so she took the heat. We were nearing the top of the hill, and neither of us was paying much attention. There was a guy coming up on the other side of the hill, and he’d fallen asleep at the wheel.”
Max started to shiver, and even though I was sure it wasn’t from the cold, I hung my coat around her shoulders. She exhaled and closed her eyes. Her eyes and lips were pressed into straight lines. Her tears reflected the sunlight, and her face looked fractured, rearranged by grief.
Her pitch was higher and her volume louder as she continued, “Alex swerved, but she wasn’t fast enough. His car clipped the side of ours at the same time that Alex slammed on the brakes. We started spinning, and then the car was in the air. I remember everything and nothing about the seconds that followed. I screamed and looked out my window at the tree we were flying toward. I looked back at Alex, and there was glass flying everywhere and a hole in the windshield. She wasn’t in her seat, but one of her shoes was stuck between the bottom of the dash and what was left of the window. I stared at that shoe for lifetimes before the top of the car slammed into the earth. It had to have been a second, maybe two, but my mind raced into the future. I thought about what I would do, what we would all do if Alex died. I pictured growing up without her, missing her on every birthday and holiday. I saw ten years into the future, and it was terrible.”
