by Lori Ryan
Emmett laughed. “Yeah, I had my head stuck pretty far up my ass for sure. But once I came to my senses I realized what I’d missed.”
“And what’s that, being hen-pecked by a nagging girlfriend?”
“No, man.”
Max sat in silence, waiting for his brother’s response.
“Caring for someone other than yourself. Having someone to care for you, share your burdens, help you reach your dreams. It’s actually pretty amazing if you take the leap and trust someone with your heart.”
Max needed to shut this conversation down. “Are you writing the screenplay to a Hallmark Channel original movie or what?”
Emmett chuckled, unfazed by Max’s blatant sarcasm. “When you stare death in the face like Elle did,” Emmett continued, “every other petty thing just…doesn’t matter. It’s a pretty amazing deal. She taught me that.”
Elle had battled breast cancer five years ago. She was healthy now, or at least had been since her last scan a month ago. He wouldn’t ever compare what he’d been through with Elle’s fight with cancer, but in some ways, he wondered if he shouldn’t be learning from what she went through and applying it to his own situation. She’d had her career torn away from her because of her health. He hadn’t had to fight for his life the way she had but he’d battled a war of a different kind.
“Taught you what?” Max asked, suddenly interested in his brother’s golden nuggets of wisdom.
“That you can’t build your life on accomplishments and talents alone. It doesn’t mean shit how many books I sell or how many dance awards Elle wins, they don’t define us.”
“Then what does?” Max asked, sitting still, afraid of his brother’s answer. His entire adult life, Max had only been known for one thing—being a football star who would find a way to catch the ball if it got within ten feet of him. What was he without that?
“Our lives are built on the moments we make ourselves vulnerable, moments when we trust someone else. They’re built on who we choose to share our lives with. It’s okay to need someone, Max. And it’s amazing when that someone needs you too.”
Max didn’t need anyone. “You sound like a fucking self-help book.”
Emmett chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, yeah I do. But I’m okay with that.” And without another word, his brother walked out of the room, leaving Max with a sinking feeling that maybe Emmett was right.
He pulled his phone out and stared at Devlin’s picture and her message.
Wish you were here.
Would she feel the same way if she knew everything? Probably not. No one would.
The truth was, Max would never return to his career as a wide receiver in the NFL. He’d made a deal with the devil—aka his head coach—that prevented him from returning to the sport he loved.
Ever. Which meant he had nothing to give to anyone else. Especially Devlin Darby.
Chapter Nine
Devlin dropped into the seat of the cab with a sigh, exhausted and worn out after her flight back to New York City. She’d spent the last week in the heat of Mexico, taking pictures for a travel magazine that often contracted her work. The scenery had been gorgeous and she was sure they’d love the shots she got, but the trip hadn’t gone smoothly.
Mid-week, she’d been overtaken by a stomach virus or food poisoning, she didn’t know which. Unable to cancel the photo shoot, Devlin had muddled through, taking breaks to puke her guts up. Her assistant, Stewart, had saved her. He’d gone above and beyond the usual handling of lights and calling out light meter readings. He’d brought her all kinds of medicine and made sure she’d stayed hydrated. He’d even cleaned up her mess once when she couldn’t make it to the bathroom. She really needed to pay him more.
“Where to, miss?” The cab driver asked, looking at her in the mirror.
Devlin rambled off the address of her apartment in Chelsea then sagged back in the seat. It was too easy to succumb to the sheer exhaustion that had nagged her the entire time she’d been in Mexico.
Normally, Devlin had more stamina than anyone on set, no matter the location. This time, heat, long hours, and late-night shoots in Mexico had left her completely zapped. Most nights she passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Her phone buzzed in her bag. She dug it out from the pocket, not surprised—and more excited than she should be—to see it was Max. She giggled when she saw his nickname. Stud Muffin.
STUD MUFFIN: You make it home yet?
DEVLIN: Just got in the cab, headed home. Can I call you in a bit?
STUD MUFFIN: Sounds good. If I don’t answer it’s because I’m ass deep in barn work.
DEVLIN: Ass work? Sounds like fun;)
Devlin laughed. Max had shared the dire straits his family was in, having to adjust their build-out schedule for the barn they were renovating. Sometimes it sounded like they were totally rebuilding the thing from the ground up.
He sent an emoji with little eyes bugging out in shock. She smiled, realizing she was bringing the big manly Max Sumner into the emoji world.
STUD MUFFIN: Still sick?
DEVLIN: I think I’m getting better.
STUD MUFFIN: Good. Call me soon. Glad you’re back safely.
She smiled. It was nice to have someone worry about her. When was the last time anyone had cared if she made it home safely? Sure, there was her mom, but she was supposed to worry like that.
DEVLIN: Me, too. Talk to you soon.
Devlin held the phone close to her chest, thinking of Max Sumner and all the wicked ways he’d made her feel incredible the last time they were together. If she were honest, she’d admit she was more than a little excited about seeing him again.
What she would never admit though was the fact she was counting down the days on her phone with a special app. She pulled the phone out and clicked on the icon. Eight days. She ignored the fact that the counter still showed quite a high number of hours after that eight. The important thing was that she was close to the one week mark.
Devlin planned to return to Canyon Creek a few days earlier than originally scheduled so she could help Maggie with last minute preparations for the wedding. Although, given Devlin’s lethargy, she wasn’t so sure how much help she would be. She wasn’t even sure if she could drag her luggage up three flights of stairs to her apartment.
Even three days of puking couldn’t diminish Devlin’s excitement for her best friend’s upcoming wedding. She was so happy for Maggie and Ben.
Maggie had a shit time growing up. Her mother left the family when Maggie was young, and her father had turned to Jim Beam and beer to ease the pain. He’d found his passion in berating his daughter, verbally abusing her and forcing her to care for him when it should have been the other way around. Thankfully, her father was sober now. It was just a few months, but it was something.
And now that Ben was there to support and encourage her, Maggie was thriving. She was continuing to take classes online toward her college degree and was managing the lodge with the skill of a seasoned executive. Devlin couldn’t be prouder of her friend.
She looked down at her phone, staring at Max’s message.
Glad you’re back safely.
For all his bravado about being a player who couldn’t care less about anything or anyone other than football, Devlin was starting to realize there was so much more to Max Sumner than most people realized. More than he wanted to reveal. She knew how that felt.
Devlin closed her eyes, wanting to catch a quick minute of sleep as the cab worked its way across the city.
“Ma’am,” someone called out.
She snuggled deeper into the seat.
“Ma’am!” the voice came louder this time.
Devlin jerked awake, eyes darting around, trying to orient herself. She was in a cab, the same cab she’d been in earlier. She must have fallen asleep. She glanced down at her watch. Had it truly been forty-five minutes? She felt like she’d only closed her eyes for a minute.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,�
� the driver said, offering a small smile as he regarded her through the Plexiglas partition. “We’re here.” He nodded toward the passenger side window.
She glanced up at her apartment. She shook her head, trying to wake up. Instead she was rewarded with another wave of nausea. She threw open the door, just in time to dry heave all over the pavement.
Good God, when was she ever going to get over this virus?
She paid the driver and pushed herself out of the cab, wondering how in the hell she would ever make it up to her apartment with no elevator. If she were lucky, maybe the body builder in apartment 1B would be home. He was always looking at her like she was a protein bar.
She stumbled toward the back of the cab to grab her bags and found the driver had beat her there.
He’d already taken out her two pieces of luggage. “Do you need help with these?”
“No,” she sighed, “I’ll be fine.” She didn’t believe herself, but she also didn’t feel great about inviting a stranger up to her apartment, even if it was to help carry her bags. She dug in her purse, pulling out two twenty-dollar bills. “Here you go. Thanks.”
The man glanced down at the cash and back up with her with a blank stare.
“What?” she asked.
“You, uh, gave me two dollars.”
“What?” Devlin looked down at the bills in his hands. Sure enough, they were one-dollar bills. What the hell was wrong with her? She had to get upstairs and fast.
“I’m sorry.” She rummaged around in her bag for more cash, her head falling back when she couldn’t find anything. “God, could this day get any worse?” she said to no one in particular.
“I can swipe a card,” he said helpfully, although he looked like his patience with her might be waning. She had, after all, just come pretty close to losing her lunch in his car.
She nodded and handed him the credit card, then waited while he walked back to the cab and ran it through his machine.
“Take care of yourself,” he said after she’d signed and added a tip.
The driver walked around his car and slipped inside, leaving her in the middle of the sidewalk, wondering how the hell she would ever make it upstairs.
Chapter Ten
Devlin bolted straight up, eyes popping wide open. Where was she? Her hands fumbled around her, feeling cool material beneath her fingers. Sheets.
Her eyes began to focus, taking in her surroundings. She was in her bedroom and she was still fully dressed. God, what time was it? She must have fallen into her bed, too exhausted from the effort of lugging her suitcases to undress. She glanced toward the window and noted that evening was fast approaching. Dim light filtered through the curtains.
She rubbed her palms over her face as her phone began to vibrate from her nightstand. She slid across the bed and scooped up the phone, pushing the hair from her eyes so she could see. Six missed phone calls and a slew of text messages. She’d been completely out of it.
Two of the calls were from her mother. That couldn’t be good. Two were from her assistant. Again, not a great thing.
And the other two stole her breath. Max.
Unsure of who to call back first, she opened up text messages. She had friends all around the world thanks to her travels over the last ten years. Well, maybe acquaintances was a better term. Several of the texts were from them, but the bulk were from Stewart and Max—fourteen from Max. His last message surprised her.
STUD MUFFIN: If you don’t call me ASAP I’m going to board a plane to NYC. I’m not kidding. CALL ME!
He was genuinely worried about her, and something in her heart squeezed. Devlin noted the time of the text. Just a few moments ago.
The missed call had been from Max as well. As much as she wanted to see him, she knew Max and his family were swamped trying to finish the wedding barn. There was no way she wanted him to leave Colorado and come to New York. Not that he would.
Just to be sure, she dialed his number.
“What the hell, Devlin? Where are you? You scared the shit out of me,” Max growled.
“Well, hello to you, too.” She smiled but tried to keep the amusement from her voice. He was obviously upset.
“Where were you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I just passed out as soon as I got home.”
“That was nine hours ago, Devlin.”
Devlin glanced over at her alarm clock. It was just after seven in the evening.
“I’m sorry, Max. I guess I was worse than I thought, I’m just…” What was she? She’d never been this tired and worn out before. Or this sick. Maybe she had mono. A friend of hers in high school had it and her symptoms were eerily similar.
“You don’t sound good.” Max’s voice was low and gentle now.
“Gee, thanks.” Devlin made her way out of her bedroom and into the small kitchen. She was hungry but the thought of food made her nauseous. Just as well. She knew without looking, there would be nothing in her fridge.
She opened the pantry and looked at her choices. Cereal or crackers. Crackers seemed like a wise choice.
“Are you still sick? Still throwing up?”
“I haven’t in the last nine hours.” She laughed.
“You’ve been asleep.”
“Exactly.”
Devlin could hear conversation in the background.
“My mom said you should try powdered ginger,” Max said. “She said they sell it at the drug store in capsules. Oh, and Vitamin B 12. She said that helps too.”
Something ached in Devlin’s chest. He’d been worried enough about her that he’d told his mom. Devlin didn’t have the heart to tell Max she’d have trouble carrying herself to the bathroom right now, let alone go shopping.
“Thanks, I’ll go to the store in a bit.”
“I’m worried about you.”
Devlin shook off the feeling his concern gave her. She was beginning to see that Max was the kind of guy who cared about his friends and family. She was his friend—a friend with great benefits—but still just friends. Naturally, he cared about her. She couldn’t, wouldn’t let her heart turn this into some foolish fantasy.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, plopping down onto her sofa. “I just need to catch up on sleep.”
“I can’t wait to see you.” His voice took on that rich, husky tone that told her why he couldn’t wait to see her. She had to admit, the “benefits” of this friendship were pretty drool-worthy.
“Right now, I look like a mess.” Devlin had no desire to scare herself by looking into the mirror, but she could guess she looked like something a dog wouldn’t touch.
“I’m sure you look as beautiful as ever.”
The statement would have sounded cheesy coming from anyone else but something in his voice said he was being sincere. She warmed from the inside out. He thought she was beautiful.
“How’s the barn going?” she asked, not wanting to let the conversation end, even though she knew he had work to do.
“Surprisingly well, actually. It’s amazing what you can do when forced to.”
“Tell me,” Devlin laughed, kicking her feet up on the coffee table.
“You’re still coming in early, aren’t you?”
Devlin could hear the hopefulness in his voice. At least it sounded like hopefulness. Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part.
“To Colorado, I mean,” Max continued, “to help Maggie with stuff.”
Of course, he was asking because they needed help. Maggie must be just as swamped as he was and the poor woman was trying to prepare for her wedding on top of it all.
“Yes, I’ll be there in a week.” She didn’t want to tell him it was actually eight days. In fact, her app told her it was eight days, five hours, and forty-two minutes, but that just sounded sad and pathetic.
“Great. I can’t wait to see you, well, I mean for you to see what all we’ve done. A lot has changed since you were here last.”
Devlin bit back a laugh. Max was nervous. Because of her.
“How long do you think you’ll stay?” he asked.
“I’m supposed to fly out Monday afternoon, after the wedding. I have a shoot in Turkey the following week so I need to get some things lined up in New York with my assistant. And I’m meeting with the publisher about my photo book.”
“Oh yeah, the one featuring cancer survivors. It’s going to be awesome. Elle is really excited to be in it.”
“I’m excited, too,” she said. “I’m so glad Emmett helped me get a foot in the door with his publisher.”
Max remained quiet.
“Max, you there?”
“Oh yeah, sorry,” he answered, “they’re just delivering a few more supplies.”
“Well, I’ll let you go.”
“Maybe you could stay a little longer, in Canyon Creek, I mean,” he said, sounding nervous again.
She let out a small giggle. The thought of Max Sumner nervous around a woman was quite amusing.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Devlin shook her head. Wrong move. Another wave of nausea hit her hard. “I have to go, Max. I think I’m going to be sick again.”
“Okay, but call me later. Or I’ll call you. Go get that stuff my mom mentioned.”
“I will.” Devlin rushed to the bathroom, wondering what in the word she could possibly have inside her that could still be fighting to come out.
“Take care, sweetheart,” Max said quietly.
Sweetheart? Devlin didn’t have time to psychoanalyze, she was about to puke all over her expensive Persian rug if she didn’t make it to the bathroom.
She clicked off the phone and threw open the bathroom door just in time. She was surprised to find that she indeed had more inside her. After she was finished, she closed the lid and flushed the toilet, holding her head in her hands. That’s when she noticed it. The calendar, sitting next to her vanity in the basket with several magazines. It’s where she tracked her periods.
She searched every day that month, seeing no red star indicating the start of her last period. She flipped through to the month before and no red dot. What the fuck?
