by T. I. Lowe
“Max…”
He shook his head, keeping it burrowed to her neck. “This is too hard.”
“But it’s what you wanted.”
He felt the tremble of her thin frame. His throat constricted painfully with knowing how much he truly loved her, but that just wasn’t enough to push past the barrier he had constructed around his heart. No matter how much force Max inflicted through prayer and advice from his band family, the self-doubt and debilitating fear of abandonment refused to budge.
“I know… You deserve better,” he repeated, holding her closer.
After he witnessed Mave get his act together and create a righteous life for his wife and kids, Max naively thought he could do the same with just as much ease as his brother. Without thought, he proposed to Mona and she agreed with no hesitation. All seemed to be on track until last summer when every cruel scar inflicted from his childhood made headlines.
“We can’t keep doing this,” Mona whispered, bringing his focus back to the night.
Blinking, he raised his head and met her watery gaze. “I know. Baby, I love you… I want you to have the world filled with sunshine… Never dark skies… I promise I’m done hurting you after tonight.” He brushed his fingers over her delicate jawline. “I’m letting you go.”
Her features plummeted even further, making him realize she was still holding on to some flimsy thread of hope. Mona took the diamond off and tried handing it over, but Max refused it.
“No. Please keep it.”
“But it’s gotten too big.”
“What?”
Mona slid it back onto her finger to show how it dangled dangerously. “I’ve lost my appetite with everything going on…”
Max knew it was him who was the cause of the stress, reiterating the need to let her move on. It wasn’t healthy to be with him. He slid the ring off and moved it to her index finger.
“There. It can be a statement ring.” He inwardly flinched at his choice of words, knowing the only statement it conveyed was a broken engagement. Luckily, Mona pretended to overlook it.
She toyed with the silver guitar pick hanging on the long silver chain around his neck. It was one of the many gifts she had given him over the years. “Tell me...” She took a stuttered breath. “Tell me about your latest mischief.”
Max knew she changed whatever it was she wanted to say, but he pretended to not notice. They had both become pretty good at playing along with the charade of their relationship. He gave in to temptation some more, allowing his hands free reign to play in her silky locks.
Pulling on a mischievous grin, he spoke, “Well, ole Dimples been going through some old-man faze of wanting to only wear white shirts.” He wrinkled his nose in a silly fashion. “Weird, right?”
A weak smile pulled at Mona’s lips as she nodded in agreement while eyeing the white shirt he himself was wearing that was still slightly damp from rocking out earlier. It was a bit loose around his abdomen but fit surprisingly well through the shoulders.
Max glanced down at the shirt. “This is actually his one and only white shirt as of today, but dude don’t know it yet. Well, unless he wants to wear that fancy one he was sporting tonight.”
“How’s that?” Her smile warmed, hooking her fingers through his belt loops as his hands continued to work through her hair. The entire moment felt too familiar and too right with them easily falling back into couple-mode.
He released one hand and hiked up the left leg of his jeans to reveal splashes of pink along his shin. “I spent the morning adding some color back into his life.”
She giggled, which successfully added some sparkle back to her sad eyes. “Seems you colored yourself.”
Max dropped the leg of his pants. “Yeah. The bucket turned over on me. Jewels don’t know it yet, but the lower deck has a pink section now. Maybe Leona can work that into her redesign.” He grinned down at her. “Can’t wait to see the dude’s face.”
At that, Mona’s face fell, moving them back to the seriousness of their conversation. “Max, you need to leave your childhood behind.” Before he could retort, she plowed on. “I’m not talking about the goofing off or the pranks. Never lose your sense humor and mischief. Just please figure out how to stop using it as a shield.”
Max cleared his throat, trying to push it all back down, but her words had wiggled the wayward hurt loose and it threatened to overtake him. He was about to let her go, but her hand moved to rest over his pounding heart.
“Whatever broke your heart back then needs to be fixed, or you’ll never be able to get over it properly.” Her fingers tapped against his chest. “I’ve gotten a glimpse of that love when you let things go. And I know if you ever heal, that love is going to be one spectacular prize for some lucky girl.”
He had no words for that, so his head nodded in acknowledgement but not agreement. The broken guitarist just didn’t know if he was capable of offering anyone anything spectacular. But that was always Mona. She always saw the best in people, and that’s why she made one outstanding publicist.
Mona placed a kiss on his cheek. “You need to grab your guitar.”
“No. That’s for you.”
Her eyes snapped up to his. “But that’s your first acoustic. I can’t… That’s too...”
“That’s why I want you to have it. Baby, I promise…” He sniffed his traitorous tears back, his brown eyes burning. “I need you to understand… It’s the only way I can figure out how to show you how much it’s killing me to part with something so precious to me.”
“Then I’d rather you keep it.” Her own tears brimmed until finally spilling.
Max pulled her closer. “I’m talking about you, not the guitar.”
A sob pulled from her, weak and tortured. Max leaned down and allowed his tears to mingle with hers as he gently laid his lips to hers. Poignant and heart wrenching was how the caress began, but it moved aggressively on to need and longing. By the time they parted, both were panting.
“If chemistry were enough to fix my stupidity… ‘Cause, baby, we’ve got that in spades.”
Mona freed a slight laugh. “Sounds like song lyrics to me.” She leaned up and pressed one final kiss to his lips before climbing into the limo. “Let me know when you’re ready to release a statement.”
“Only thing I’m releasing is you for your own good,” he muttered, knowing she couldn’t hear him with her head turned away. Max leaned down and summoned her to look at him, stealing one last inhale of her sweet scent. “I love you, you know that, right?” He gathered the new tear his words beckoned with his thumb before it slid down her damp cheek.
“I think I do.” She didn’t offer him the same declaration. Mona had always been firm on showing someone how she felt instead of saying them. She proved her love by showing up tonight to make a public appearance easier on him. And she also showed it by putting up with him for over six months after he called off the engagement.
Max quietly shut the door and watched the limo disappear into the summer night. A long time passed with him standing in the dark driveway, coming to terms with just how messed up he truly was at that point in his life. He wished he could fix the effect his past had on him. His dad walking away from them, not caring how they survived, had really screwed up his thinking on commitments and had rooted a deep abandonment phobia.
“Yeah. Not happening,” he muttered to the night sky, not knowing how to fix any of it. He turned his back to the sky after it offered no resolution.
FOUR
“Tiptoe”
-Imagine Dragons
The perpetual chatter and commotion bounced around the rambunctious beach house. The sounds were ever-present and could almost soothe anything ailing you, but the profound hole in Max’s stomach throbbed with needing to be filled with more. A few days had dragged by with him hiding out, but he reemerged back into the chaos of his family. A concert was scheduled for that night, plus Kyle and Leona’s crowd were expected to arrive, so he knew it was time to push d
own his wallowing over screwing everything up with Mona.
Scratching at the thick scruff on his cheek while perched on a stool at the kitchen island, Max knew exactly what he needed for a brief cure of what was ailing him. The antidote taunted him from the warm glow of the oven.
Jewels rushed by, arms filled with freshly laundered linen. “Izzy, I’ll take care of the beds.”
“Okay. I’m almost finished baking,” Izzy called out from the sink, but Jewels had already disappeared up the backstairs.
Max remained zoned in on the heavenly treats perfuming the air—peaches shipped all the way from Bleu Orchard, sugar, a hint of spice, and buttery crust. If he focused there, the leering thoughts of missing Mona would take a rest. Will’s large form came barreling through, holding a cellphone over his head with Grace hot on his heels, jolting Max out of his pie lust.
“Give it back!” the raven beauty screamed before they disappeared into the living room.
“This sure ain’t a vacation. Every five seconds someone’s dancing around in a tizzy.” Max frowned deeply, moving his hands to rub through his messy hair. It was starting to get some length back to it.
Izzy turned and studied the brooding guitarist. The two of them had a love/hate relationship, but the hate thing was all for show. He knew she was watching him, but Max had no desire to look anywhere but toward the enormous oven holding lots of pies. He licked his lips and swallowed. She won’t miss one pie…
“Don’t even think about it, Pepper Man,” she warned, narrowing her brown eyes.
Oh, he was thinking about it, all right, and had a plan in place to snatch a pie as soon as she gave him an opening. He’d pay whatever consequences, because one of those pies was his whether Izzy was ready to admit it or not. His sister-in-law had sufficiently shed her shyness over the years, discovering a confident woman underneath. Max thought she wore that look brilliantly. It definitely kept him on his toes. Snatching the pie wouldn’t be an easy feat, that’s for sure.
Max swallowed forcefully again, stomach growling its irritation for having to be patient. “When did you say the crowd was arriving?”
“I think they are actually flying out together.” She glanced at the wall clock. “In about an hour.”
“Sounds good.” An hour to enjoy his pie sounded really good. “I’m glad Kyle was transferred to New York right after Grant’s death. I didn’t like the idea of Leona and Phoebe out there alone.”
“Me too.” Izzy nodded her head somberly with wisps of almost-white-blonde hair escaping her topknot. She worked on washing several heads of romaine lettuce, blowing the wayward locks out of her eyes every so often. “I wonder what she has in mind for the remodel.”
They both glanced around the room that held a beach décor scheme, but nothing garish. It was a classic beach style bathed in creams and beiges with accents of blue, but the dynamic view of the Pacific Ocean showcased by the floor to ceiling windows was most definitely the highlight.
Max shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with the way it is now. I think Jewels used that as an excuse to get Leona for the summer. Those two were inseparable back in the day.”
“Will Mona be coming by before the concert?” Izzy asked hesitantly.
“She’s already back on the East Coast.” His eyes suddenly stung, wishing he could confess what he had done to someone.
“That’s one busy lady.” The petite woman glanced over her shoulder.
Clearing his throat, Max muttered, “Yep,” deciding he wasn’t up for a confession.
Squeals pealed out as Trace’s two boys ran through the kitchen in swim trunks with floaties strapped around their upper arms, followed by their dad. They waved new pool noodles in the air like swords, knocking into Max’s back as they passed. Roland wasn’t paying attention and ran smackdab into the glass door. He ricocheted off, but didn’t let it deter him from his quest of getting to the pool. He shot through the door as soon as Trace hurried over and opened it.
“We need to call him Space Cadet Junior,” Max mumbled. Trace cut him a look before following behind his boys.
“Why don’t you go join them?” Izzy insisted.
“Nah. I’m good right here.” No way was Izzy going to distract him from his pie mission.
Max glanced outside to where most of the crowd was already frolicking in the pool. His stomach tightened as he watched Mave pick Ludwig up and toss him to the other end of the pool, causing a big splash. Max almost got off the stool, but saw Dillon was right there to catch the little tyke.
Izzy said something he didn’t catch before she started rummaging around in the industrial-sized fridge. It was new as well as the rest of the appliances—stainless steel and smudge proof—and she seemed to make it her mission to break them in during their summer stay. The crowd had no problem with that. Max made quick note on the location of the new jug of milk—top shelf on the left—before she shut the door and made her way back to the island with several cucumbers in her arms. A spoon was already hidden in the back pocket of his baggy cargo shorts.
“You know your idiot husband is supposed to be taking care of that arm. Slinging toddlers in the pool ain’t doing it.”
“Go out there and get ahold of him.”
Before Max could decline, a beautiful sound tickled his ears.
Finally! Finally, the timer went off on the oven.
Max reined in his exhilaration over the beeping that exclaimed in a high-pitched inflection that he was finally about to have his pie and eat it too. As Izzy began pulling the pies out of the oven and lining them neatly on the cooling racks sitting on the island, Max casually strolled over to the glass doors to prepare for his plan of action. He feigned interest in the craziness happening in the pool, but his entire being was zoned in on the potent perfume of the peach pies that became almost overbearing now that they were free from the confines of the oven.
“What kind of salad are you making for lunch?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Chicken curry.”
“Hmm… That sounds good. Do you mind chopping up some pickles like I like them to go with it?”
“Sure.”
Max waited to hear the door to the fridge open before yanking the glass door open in sudden panic. “Mave! Pearl can’t swim! Get her!” His voice rang out in hysterics, reaching pretty high for a baritone.
Mave looked up in confusion at his brother like Max had grown another head. Pearl was latched onto his back as he walked around the shallow end of the pool while pulling Ludwig on a float. Only seconds ticked by before Izzy dashed out the door, almost knocking Max down. With her nicely distracted and outside, Max quickly slid a steaming pie off the rack with a pot holder. Set on his path of escape, he swiped the milk from the fridge and hauled tail to his room.
Feeling as though he just pulled off some high-stake crime, heart thumping rapidly in his chest and sweat dampening his forehead, Max locked himself in and settled on the floor beside the unmade bed after kicking a few articles of clothing out of the way. Taking a few calming breaths, he began working the spoon into the top crust that was browned to golden perfection. Before he could deliver the bite to his salivating mouth, a harsh beating attacked his door.
“Maxim King! So not cool!” Bang, bang, bang. “Stealing a pie by making me panic over my child!” Bang, bang, bang. Each of her words was delivered along with a fist to the door.
He eyed the gooey fruit and crust on the spoon with wafts of steam rising. “It’s good to keep you on your toes with the rugrats,” he hollered back before taking the first bite, dropping his head back to rest on the bed and moaned. “Dang, this is good!” he garbled out.
“You forget too easy what happens when you mess with me, Pepper Man!” Izzy let the threat drip through the word pepper, sounding right menacing for such a tiny woman.
Her threat caused the spoon to waiver a split second at his lips. Shrugging, he took another bite and slowly chewed. “This pie will be worth the consequences!”
She kept up
the attack on his door and the knob. “Max!”
“Go away!” he yelled back.
Izzy’s tirade lasted until half the pie had vanished before finally giving up. With the peace and quiet settling around his deep-blue room, Max tucked into finishing his pie mission. He cocooned in the shaded corner, lucky to have the first floor bedroom. The dark walls helped to tone down the bright light flowing in from the large windows. Not once during daylight hours had he flipped on a light switch.
By the time the dish was empty and the jug of milk drained dry, Max declared the mission a success. With heavy eyes from the sugar high, he debated climbing back into bed. His hand was on the rumbled cover to push it out of the way when ruckus broke loose from above, signaling the arrival of his friends. Looking at the bed with longing one last time, Max unlocked his door and headed upstairs.
Keeping his eyes peeled for Izzy, Max stepped into the living room and stumbled upon an odd mix of shock and awkwardness. Everyone was perched on the cream-colored couches and chairs, staring in the same direction. Max angled his head and caught sight of Kyle. Features of the kid he had grown up with mingled with the mature version—the unruly dark-blond hair was now neatly trimmed with a few specks of grey and those light-green eyes were framed with a few fine lines.
“What’s happening, man?” Max pulled his friend out of the chair and wrapped him in a bear hug, choosing to ignore whatever he had missed for the time being.
“I got married,” Kyle blurted with genuine happiness.
Guess there’s no ignoring it now, Max thought as he pulled back to eye Kyle.
“Woo… Wow. Well, congratulations. When do we get to meet the lucky girl?” Max glanced around the room and only saw one stranger’s face, too young for his friend, so obviously she was Leona’s assistant. His focus landed on Leona, pulling a wide grin to his face. “Hey, hot mama!” He forgot about Kyle’s sudden nuptials and swooped his other friend up.
“Look at you,” Leona said on a giggle. “You don’t look wormy anymore.”
