Make It Count

by Megan Erickson

  “Why are you still bugging me?” he shot back.

  Those liquid brown eyes fired. “Grow up, Max.” Then she turned around and walked back into the house, her limp more pronounced then he’d ever seen it.

  He didn’t watch the way her ass looked in her tight jeans. Or how her hair shone in the sun. The sight of her eyes—so alive and challenging, calling him on his bullshit—didn’t linger in his mind.

  He knew Lea despised him. All she knew of him was that he’d dated Kat and treated her like crap. And before that, he’d slept with his best friend’s girlfriend and kept it from him.

  Although it had worked out in the end, because now Alec was with Kat and neither had ever been happier.

  But Max was still an asshole.

  His phone rang in his jacket pocket and he pulled it out, eyes still scanning the road to see if the cat came back. He glanced at the caller ID and sighed. “Yo.”

  “Max,” Calvin’s voice grunted in his ear.

  “Who else would it be? You called me.”

  His oldest brother ignored the question. “Friday afternoon, you don’t have class, right?”

  As a senior at Bowler University, he’d had his pick of classes, so he’d made sure to keep his Fridays open. That was his day. A day for himself. One where he didn’t have to attend class in a major he hated or work in his dad’s automotive shop, doing work he hated. A constant reminder he was about to be stuck doing that same work he hated for the rest of his life. Unless he crawled out from under Jack Payton’s steel-toe boots. Which he didn’t see happening.

  “You know I don’t,” was all he said.

  Another voice murmured over the line and Max recognized Brent’s voice—the middle brother. “That’s what I’m doing right now, assface,” Calvin’s voice was muffled as he spoke to Brent, and Max rolled his eyes.

  “Max,” Calvin’s deep voice came back on the line, clearer.

  “I didn’t go anywhere. You called me. What the fuck do you want?” Max growled.

  Silence.

  “What crawled up your ass and died?” Cal asked.

  “Cal—“

  “Can you drive to Dad’s Friday? That big dying tree in the backyard finally cracked under last week’s ice storm. Dad wants it cleared out and if we don’t do it Friday, he’s going to do it over the weekend. And then he’ll throw his back out and be even more miserable than usual. Brent and I don’t want to deal with that shit, so we need to get this tree taken care of. You in?”

  Max gritted his teeth and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. His older brothers had to work with their dad every day at the shop. And sparing them from their father’s wrath was the only reason he said what he did next. “Sure.”

  Cal’s voice was muffled again. “Will you quit yapping in my ear? I asked him and he said he’d do it. Fuck, you’re annoying . . . What? . . . Fine, Brent.” More muffled sounds and again the clearer voice. “Max?”

  This time, he didn’t even dignify it with an answer. Cal continued, “Brent wants some of your cookies.”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “Last time I saw both of you, looked like you needed to lay off the cookies.”

  “Fuck you,” Cal said, laughing, and Max grinned wider.

  “I’ll be there. With cookies.”

  “Later, bro.”

  Max ended the call, took one last look at the alley and then gathered the cat’s dishes before trudging into the kitchen. As he washed the dishes, voices filtered in from the living room, Kat’s laughter, Lea’s quiet murmuring, Alec conversing with their other roommate, Camilo Ruiz.

  Amazing how the voices of a full house made Max feel even more alone.

  A breeze ruffled the back of Max’s T-shirt. He glanced over his shoulder at the open screen door and frowned. He must have forgotten to shut it. He dried his hands, pulled the door shut, and then walked into the living room.

  Lea and Kat sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, books open in front of them. Alec sat behind Kat, his spread legs on either side of her as she leaned her head on his thigh.

  Alec Stone, his best friend since elementary school, turned his head when Max cleared his throat. Alec’s face turned wary, and Max hated the fact that he’d been such a prick lately that even his best friend was cautious around him. “Hey, man,” Alec said.

  Max nodded. “What’s up, Zuk.”

  Alec smiled, clearly loving that Max used the old nickname, which Max had given him years ago because of his pompadour hairstyle—like Danny Zuko from Grease.

  Alec’s fingers absentmindedly shifted through Kat’s hair. “Cat let you touch it yet?”

  Lea’s eyes were on him. He could feel them, like twin heat-seeking missiles. “No,” he said.

  Alec nodded encouragingly. “He will. Just give it time.”

  Max shrugged, playing it off like he didn’t care.

  “Wanna play?” Cam asked, tilting the controller to his video-game system, eyes on the TV as his army guy dodged a grenade and took aim at a sniper.

  Max chuckled at their roommate. “No thanks, man. Got some studying to do.” Even though he didn’t give a shit about his major, he was so close to graduating, he could smell it.

  He took one step forward, when a black blur flew past him and raced up the stairs. “Holy shit!” Max yelped, losing his footing and crashing painfully into the coffee table. The girls screeched. Cam threw his remote control, and Alec joined Max on the coffee table, the two of them clutching each other like it was some B-rate horror movie.

  “What was that?” Alec’s low voice vibrated in Cam’s ear.

  “A raccoon?” Cam guessed.

  “A dog,” Lea said.

  “A real big dog,” Kat added.

  “I think it was a bear,” Max said.

  Alec’s nails dug into Max’s biceps. “I don’t think bears move that fast.”

  “Okay, so, like a freak bear.” Max gently pushed Alec off of him before he could develop bruises.

  Cam stood up slowly, eyes on the stairs. “I wish I had my gun.”

  Alec rolled his eyes. “We are not in a combat zone.”

  “I’m going to get a broom,” Max declared, heading for the kitchen.

  “A broom?” Alec called after him. “What the hell is a broom going to do?”

  Max grabbed the wooden-handled broom from the corner of the kitchen and walked back into the living room, brandishing it like a sword. “I don’t know, I’ll poke it.”

  Alec narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure this freak bear is going to love being poked.”

  “You have a better idea?” Max retorted.

  Alec was mute.

  Kat tapped her finger to her lips. “Should I grab the fire extinguisher? That seems like something someone would do if this was a movie.”

  Alec sighed and laced his fingers with Kat’s. “I’m thinking we don’t need the fire extinguisher.”

  Max drew his eyes away from the couple to see Lea quietly climbing the flight of stairs. “Hey,” he said, shouldering past her, broom held out in defense. “You don’t know what that thing is. Don’t just march up there alone.”

  Lea eyed the broom, then him and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to protect me, then? With a broom?”

  Max’s cheeks warmed. “Well, I don’t keep bear-protection weapons lying around so . . .”

  Lea snorted a laugh and then waved him on. “Fine, you first, then.”

  Max walked slowly up the stairs, broom handle out, while the caravan followed him, Cam bringing up the rear. Alec’s room was at the top of the stairs and Max poked his head in, looking around.

  “All clear!” He called out.

  “For the love . . .” muttered an exasperated Alec behind Lea.

  “All clear!” Kat echoed, followed by a “Roger that!” from Cam.

  Next was the bathroom, and Max used the broom handle to slowly push aside the shower curtain. The only creature in there was a wad of hair Kat had left behind. “All clear except for a K
at hairball!” Max called.

  “Hey!” Kat protested.

  “Roger that!” Cam repeated.

  Lea giggled behind Max and he decided he liked that sound.

  Next was Max’s room and the door was definitely open wider than he had left it. He held up a closed fist and Lea bumped into him. “Don’t you know the hand signal for stop?” he whispered over his shoulder.

  Those eyes pierced him. “Excuse me. Your massive head is blocking my sight and I can’t see anything.”

  “Hey,” Max said, affronted, “Cam, you gotta teach Lea the military hand signals or whatever.”

  “Roger that!” Cam called again with a laugh. He was in the Air National Guard and knew all that fancy stuff.

  Max focused back on the task at hand—ridding their campus apartment of unwanted wildlife.

  He motioned for Lea to stay outside his bedroom door and peeked in, broom handle at the ready to defend his person.

  And right there, in the center of his unmade bed, was a ball of black fur. Yellow eyes blinked at him and a pink mouth opened to reveal white teeth and a chipped fang.

  “Well fuck me,” Max said, lowering the broom handle and releasing the tension in his shoulders.

  “What’s going on?” Alec called and Max poked his head out into the hallway to survey his makeshift backup.

  “It’s him,” he said, still in awe.

  “Who?” Kat asked.

  “Him,” Max waved a hand toward his bedroom. “The cat.”

  Kat’s eyes widened. “How the hell did he get in the house?”

  Max bit his lip. “I left the back door open while I washed the dishes. I guess he crept in and hid or something, then we saw him when he ran up here.” He shifted his weight. “And he’s hurt. I saw him bleeding.”

  “You just going to leave him in there?” Kat said.

  Max shrugged. “Sure. I mean, he could use a break from the cold and he seems to be loving my bed.”

  Alec slung an arm around Kat’s shoulders. “All right, well, we’ll leave you alone with your cat, then. Let us know if you need anything.” They walked downstairs, Cam at their heels. “I’m glad it’s not a bear,” he muttered.

  Max stood in the doorway of his room, staring at the cat on his bed. He seemed right at home, lounging on the worn gray comforter.

  “What’re you going to name him?” A musical voice said beside him, and he looked down to Lea at his side. Her head barely came up to his armpit as she gazed at the cat.

  Max looked around his room, at the shelf that held his favorite hockey stick and the game puck he won when he called into a radio show and had to belch the Ocean City Devils’ fight song.

  Then his eyes fell back on the cat. His scarred, chipped-tooth cat. “Wayne.”

  Lea’s head tilted, and a soft lock of hair brushed his bicep. “Wayne?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, after the hockey player Wayne Gretzky. The cat’s kind of . . .” he almost said scarred but he remembered Lea’s limp, her lingering injury from a childhood car crash, and he stopped short. “He seems tough. You can take one look at him and see he’s won his fair share of fights.”

  Lea pursed those lips, the ones he’d stared at many times, all lush and full with a cupid’s bow. Her eyes searched his and he didn’t know what she was looking for.

  Then she hummed in the back of her throat and her hand fluttered at the thigh of her left leg. “Guess so,” she said quietly. Then she turned and peered at him from over her shoulder as she left his bedroom. “I’ll leave you two alone, since you have some ‘getting to know you’ to do.”

  Then, with a quick smile, she was gone.

  Max turned to Wayne, whose eyes shifted from the door back to Max. “What you think of her, buddy?”

  Wayne licked his lips, and Max laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

  About the Author

  MEGAN ERICKSON grew up in a family that averages 5’3” on a good day and started writing to create characters who could reach the top kitchen shelf.

  She’s got a couple of tattoos, has a thing for gladiators and has been called a crazy cat lady. After working as a journalist for years, she decided she liked creating her own endings better and switched back to fiction.

  She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, two kids and two cats. And no, she still can’t reach the stupid top shelf.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Excerpt from Make It Right copyright © 2014 by Megan Erickson.

  MAKE IT COUNT. Copyright © 2014 by Megan Erickson. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub Edition JUNE 2014 ISBN: 9780062353399

  Print Edition ISBN: 9780062353412

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