Anxiously, I licked my lips before catching them between my teeth. The freezing moisture clung to the corners of my mouth. I wished I had some Chap Stick to relieve the sting of mistakenly wetting my lips in the Aspen chill. I wished I hadn’t drunk those gallons of Bacardi before I kissed Nick. Hell, I wish I never kissed him. But like my grandpa used to say, “If wishes were fishes, we’d all have a fish fry.” Don’t ask me what it means, I couldn’t tell you. All I know is it always seems to flash in my mind when I regret making stupid choices. God, I miss my grandpa. He always seemed to have ways of making me feel better, even when what he said didn’t make sense.
“Great, how in the hell are we all going to fit into that car?” Joanie pondered as she broke through my reverie of all the sequestered memories of my grandpa. She was swaying back and forth, trying to keep herself moving so she wouldn’t freeze over. My eyes dropped to Max’s two-seater BMW Z4.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled as I paced back and forth next to the car. I knew how uncomfortable it was trying to make out in that car, so I had no idea how the three of us were going to fit. But to be truthful, I didn’t care. Max was still upstairs with Nick and I wasn’t the least bit okay with the idea that they could, at that very moment, be trying to kill each other.
I walked around to the driver’s side of the car; my breath clouded my vision, and every part of my body that protruded past my torso was hammered with below-zero temperatures. I should have known when I pulled on the door handle it was going to be locked. Great…just my luck. Max is upstairs with Nick, doing God knows what to hurt him, and I can’t keep the thought of going back in there from swirling in my head.
~ Max ~
At what point am I going to either kick Nick’s ass or walk away? I had every reason to beat the shit out of him. I could feel the rage vibrating in my chest. I’d reached a point of saturation with everything that had occurred in the last couple of days. I needed him to fucking bleed, pay for taking advantage of my girlfriend in a moment of weakness. The muscles in my arms started to restrict, my hands began to twitch, and every message they received from my brain was pure anger. Right as I felt my body lean off kilter and I was going to either walk away or punch him, Nick took a step back away from me.
His movement was enough to break the rage that entranced me. But I still wanted to rip his face off and ask questions later.
“I’m standing here asking myself why I haven’t kicked your ass yet,” I said in a seething growl.
Nick just stood there, the unspoken words I waited to tumble from his mouth never showing up.
“You never brought her to the funeral today. You took advantage of her. She was hurting, expecting you to be a friend and instead—”
“I was her friend. I’m still her friend,” Nick spouted back.
“No you’re not. You stay the hell away from her. You hear me?” I snarled as I moved closer to him, my finger pointed straight at his chest.
“What are you gonna do? Kick my ass? Go ahead, I’d like to see you try,” Nick roared as he threw his hands in the air. “If Wilson wants me or needs me, I’ll be there for her,” he continued as he gained confidence with his words and tapped his hand flat against his chest.
Is this asshole for real? Doesn’t he see that he’s already lost? That I have the girl?
“You’re not worth it,” I spat as I seized Wilson’s suitcase and walked toward the stairs. That’s when I felt his arms catch and lock around my neck. I stumbled. Wilson’s suitcase jetted forward and fell down the stairway. I managed to thrust my elbow into Nick’s gut before he fell on top of me. His knee pressed harshly into my back. His forearm tightened around my throat and he pulled up before dropping his face next to my ear. I reached back as far as I could but couldn’t get a good grip around his neck to get him off me as we teetered on the top step of the stair case.
“Fuck you, Max. Yeah I kissed her, and it was really good. She wanted me so bad. I pushed her up against the refrigerator and I could feel her heat against my chest. She liked it, like she couldn’t get enough of me. She tasted so fucking good. If Cindy didn’t walk in, I bet she would have let me take her right there in the kitchen.” Nick’s voice was raspy and low.
His words echoed in my head, something in my mind snapped, and before I knew it I had him flipped over. I was sitting on his chest with his arms pinned under my knees and my fists caved into his face. I was beating the shit out of him. It was as if every fucked-up moment surged through my fists and I had to make him to pay for ruining my life.
“Max! Stop it.” I heard someone scream. It was Cindy. She ran over shouting “Get off of him! Oh my God, I think you killed him!”
Suddenly the sound of the room tuned back in and I heard Nick moaning. I looked down at him. Blood was coming out of everywhere and my hands were covered in it. I felt my fingers burn deep in the joints as I opened and closed them. I could barely rotate my wrists; they were tight from the compression of my fist against his face. What in the hell did I just do?
I got up off Nick and stood over him. Cindy dropped next to him and cradled his head in her hands. It was a side of her I don’t think anyone has ever seen. The strong, pungent smell of metal from his blood mixed with my adrenalin and suddenly my stomach churned and I felt the urge to yak.
I looked at Nick’s face still gushing blood from his nose and a cut above his eye and knew I just had to get out of there. I glanced at Cindy without apology before I turned and went downstairs. I was still in shock that I could even punch someone so viciously without any desire to stop.
Wilson’s suitcase was lying on the floor. I scooped up the handle and noticed Nick’s blood, still covering my hands, transferring from my grip. The last thing I’d want to do was scare Wilson, so I headed to the bathroom just past the kitchen and washed my hands. The cool water stung like a son of a bitch in the cuts and scrapes on my knuckles until my skin began to numb from the chill of the water. I watched the blood—Nick’s blood—mix with the soap suds, coloring them a pale red as splashes of water imbued with blood tinted the white porcelain sink. It seemed like it took gallons of water and forever to get the blood off my hands. I splashed cold, refreshing water across my face, hoping to relieve the fire that seemed to scorch my skin. Instead, the water trailing down stung my neck. I examined myself in the mirror. My neck was covered in red marks from Nick trying to choke me out. I pulled on the collar of my jacket, wrapping it around my neck to hide the marks as best I could. Shit, how in the hell did I get a bloody nose? I grabbed a clump of toilet paper and got it to stop bleeding.
I didn’t want to stay in the Browlers’ cabin any longer than I had to so I tossed the blood-soaked toilet paper and looked back in the mirror; there was no leftover dried blood on my face. It’d been a hell of a long time since I’d had a bloody nose. Or shit, since I’d gotten into a fight that elevated to actual blows, for that matter. It was such a high school bullshit thing. Huh, high school. Wilson’s gonna go back to Wesley…without me. I’ve weighed all the consequences of not seeing her every day in class. When we get back to California, we’ll work it out. I know I did the right thing.
I shook those thoughts from my head. Right then I had to get out to her and Joanie. Shit, they must be frozen solid by now. I rolled Wilson’s suitcase out into the bitter, freezing air. As I crossed the front porch, Wilson was climbing the stairs with Joanie following behind her. She stopped on the steps as if her feet were glued to the stone. Her nose and cheeks were rosy from the ruthless chill of Aspen. Her eyes widened as she looked up at me and I noticed she was staring at my hands. She took a step up toward me just as I clutched her suitcase in my arms and started down the steps.
“I thought I told you to get in the car,” I growled as I walked past her.
“What happened to your hands?” Wilson asked from behind me.
I ignored her question.
“Why aren’t you in the car?” I refuted.
“It was locked,” Joanie volunteered sheepishly
as she stood looking uncomfortable in her own stance.
“Where’s your suitcase?” I demanded, looking at Joanie as I opened the trunk and loaded Wilson’s stuff. I noticed her eyes were glued to the cuts and gashes on my hands.
“Over there,” she said as she pointed at it. She stood awkwardly before she shuffled toward the passenger’s side of the car.
“Are you going to answer me? What did you do to your hands?” Wilson asked from behind me. I heard her feet clomp against the asphalt driveway.
“Let’s just get out of here. I’ll explain later,” I said without making eye contact. I knew the influence she had over me and I didn’t want to lose any control I had over my emotions by looking at her. I just needed to get the hell away from that house.
I pressed my hands against the open trunk lid and felt the pain drain past my knuckles, into my hands, through my wrists, and down into my forearms. I really didn’t feel like getting into what had gone down with Nick, while still standing in the driveway at the Browlers’ house. I lowered one hand and motioned for Joanie’s suitcase. She didn’t move.
“Max?” I heard Wilson’s trembling voice behind me.
I slammed the trunk shut and stood motionless, my hands pushing on the back of the car, my head lowered. God, I wish she wouldn’t say my name that way. Her vulnerability bled into every cell of my body. I wanted to tell her how much I hurt. How much pain was ripping through my body—pain that was magnified by mistakes she made. But I couldn’t find a way to say it. It was easier to shut down. If she’d just let me work through this the best way I know how…
“Are you going to look at me?” she whispered.
I didn’t move. I felt the thick, heavy moment weigh between us.
“I just want to take you home,” I said resolutely before I turned to face her. “Can I take you home with me now…please?” I continued intently. I knew if I didn’t get her away from the Browlers’ before I told her what I’d done to Nick, she’d end up running back in there to him. And I just couldn’t handle that.
“I’m going to stay here,” Joanie piped up.
My intense trance on Wilson was broken by Joanie’s voice.
“Wilson, I think you guys need some time alone,” Joanie continued in a whisper as she busied herself with the handle on her suitcase.
“No, J, you’re coming home with us,” Wilson insisted.
“No, Wil, I’m not. You’ll be fine. You both need some time alone, and I…well, it’s better if I stay here. I’ll call you later. Promise,” Joanie muttered as she crossed her heart with her finger before she leaned in and hugged Wilson.
I walked around to the passenger’s side of the car and pulled open the door before I held my hand out to Wilson, my way of asking her to come with me.
Wilson stared at Joanie, lost to words that wouldn’t be said between them. She walked over to me. We didn’t say a word as she slipped into my car. After making sure she was securely buckled in and the door was shut, I walked back to where Joanie and her suitcase were waiting.
“Whenever you decide to call Wilson…don’t tell her about—Nick. Please, just…let me,” I said in a husky tone.
“Oh, kay,” Joanie said, caught off guard. Worry clung to her expression.
I nodded my head and was about to walk away when I felt the need to thank her for taking care of Wilson when I couldn’t.
“And, Joanie? Thanks,” I mumbled.
“For what?” she retorted without missing a beat.
“Taking care of Wilson, when…I—”
“I just wish I’d gotten here sooner,” Joanie interrupted.
“Yeah, me too. Before Nick—” I stopped short from finishing my sentence. Then I turned and walked away.
“Hey…Max…you know you’re Wilson’s everything,” Joanie choked. “Nick was a distraction from all the pain she was in. She needed you to come for her and you never did. You never came.” Joanie turned away from me and carried her suitcase back into the Browlers’ cabin. When the door shut I was left with Joanie’s echoing words ripping through my head while Wilson waited for me in the car. In an instant, Aspen had grown even colder.
~ Wilson ~
I sat there in the freezing car, alone, wondering if I should just get out. I wanted to confront Max again about those huge gashes across his knuckles. Wanted him to tell me what he did to Nick. Maybe it’s better I don’t know. Maybe Max just needs some time to cool off. Besides, if Max won’t tell me what happened, Joanie will. What the heck is up with her staying at the Browlers’? I can’t imagine her staying there very long knowing Cindy will be near, prodding her for details about Max and me.
The driver’s side door flung open and the freezing chill that was lingering and tapping on the windows found its way in. Max plopped into the driver’s seat, preoccupied and inattentive. He pushed the key into the starter and the engine roared to life. Max stole a glance, his eyes dark and distant like something beyond the problems I’d caused for us by kissing Nick. He forced the shifter into gear and took off. The car hugged the road, rounding curves and bends. I tried to find the courage to say something but couldn’t. Finally, when he reached for the radio, I said something to break the silence.
“You know, J didn’t come with us so we could have some time to talk…alone.”
I looked over at him. His expression was stoic as he stared at the road. The muscles in his jaw flexed, his lips compressed tight, as his eyebrows bent heavy around his narrowed expression. I swallowed hard, waiting for the pins and needles to stop attacking my skin.
He looked like he wasn’t going to engage in a conversation. His head swayed back and forth, like he was trying to clear away unwanted thoughts. I felt the influence of the car’s speed weigh against my chest before I felt my body sway and push toward him. The seatbelt pulled at my shoulder and before I knew it we were stopped on the side of a mountainous road. The sun was dropping behind the trees as night decided to take over.
Max sat silent for a moment. His head dropped and his damp, black hair tumbled forward. An endless break in our lives sat squarely between us as I waited anxiously for something to come out of his mouth. I wanted to reach over and grab him, to tell him how much I hated that I hadn’t been there for him earlier that day as he buried his father. I ached to tell him how wrecked I felt knowing he’d needed me and I wasn’t there. I wanted to annihilate the vacancy growing between us so we could just be Wilson and Max again—a couple who’d fallen in love even when everything screamed they shouldn’t.
Max turned to me, his emerald eyes narrow and clouded with red as every moment of forever lingered between us. His lips struggled to formulate the words locked in the wreckage behind his eyes.
It was like he wanted to open up to me but something was stopping him. I wanted to know what the hell it was. What changed from the point where he came back for me and right now?
Max cleared his throat before he began to whisper the thoughts that crowded his head.
“I can never take back my mistake of not coming for you; just like you can never take back kissing—” Max choked as he dropped his eyes from mine. My heart crumbled in my chest. My eyes stung with regret.
He continued. “Do you think we can find a place where we can bury our mistakes and pick up where we left off?” Max looked at me, his eyes narrow and damp as they wandered up my body to my face. “Wilson, I am so sorry I never came for you. I’m sorry I let you…down,” he uttered regretfully.
Silently I reached over, tangling my fingers in the random pieces of hair that dangled in front of his eyes. I pushed them aside as my thumb trailed against his forehead. His skin was so soft, something I’d missed feeling. He caught my hand and dragged it down to his lips. I felt his warm, lively breath push against my palm, his damp soft kiss as he closed his eyes.
“I love you so much,” I answered as he opened his eyes and leaned toward me. His jacket collar folded and fell away from his neck, exposing a cluster of rash-like marks across the front of his t
hroat. Instantly, I pulled down on his jacket collar exposing the damage that was so prevalent and yet unnoticeable until now.
“What happened?” I gasped.
“Nothin’,” Max spat as he pulled away and repositioned his jacket collar to cover his neck.
“That’s not nothing, Max. Did Nick do this to you?” I demanded as I reached over to pull away his collar.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s over and I’m fine. Come on,” he tried to convince me as he clutched my hand and pushed it away from his neck.
A chill shot down the back of my spine. His cut up hands and bruised neck were my fault. Suddenly my ability to breathe and think clearly vanished. The temperature in the car became unbearably hot and every inch of my skin was drenched. I flung the door open, hoping to find relief from the scorching, crowded space enveloping me.
Before I could welcome the refreshing winter freeze, Max stretched his arm across me, grabbing the door handle. He pulled it closed and pushed down on the lock.
“What are you doing?” I asked, stunned.
“Don’t leave! You can’t walk away from me,” Max growled. His eyes slowly traced my expression as he inhaled heavily.
“What? I wasn’t leav—”
“I just buried my dad; I can’t handle losing anyone else I love. I can’t lose…you. Again,” Max said apologetically.
A simple expanding pause encompassed us until I broke the silence.
“Then I don’t understand why you didn’t come for me,” I carped. I knew my words were going to pierce his heart. But I had to find out why. His earthy green eyes constricted. His cheeks flushed while his ears burned red. He dragged his hands across his head, pulling back on his silken hair.
I continued with my accusations, pummeling him with every question I had. “Why didn’t you come for me? Why didn’t you call me, or at the very least text me. I need you to tell me why!”
The Wilson Mooney Box Set Page 55
