Dedication
To my son and daughter, who I love with all that I am: As much as I want to shield you from all that’s bad, I can’t. You’re human, so you’ll make mistakes. Just know that I’ll always love you, and it’s never too late to make it right.
Acknowledgments
THIS BOOK. TO take a character like Max, who made some pretty big mistakes in the first book of this series, and make him the good guy in his own book . . . well, let’s just say that was a challenge. I hope my readers see past some of the mistakes he made and see that he’s trying to be a better person. Because I fell in love with Max writing this book. I hope you do too.
This time, I’m going to first thank my readers. Because I love you guys. The response to MAKE IT COUNT was fabulous. You guys laughed and swooned and cried. I couldn’t have asked for greater readers. You sent me messages and texts and, holy cow, I was overwhelmed. This book is for you. I write for you.
So many bloggers were amazing in getting behind this series: Books by Migs, Painful Reads, Owl Always be Reading, Amy’s Reading Realm, Teacups & Book Love, Hootie and Globug Need a Book, Crystal in Bookland, Allodoxophobia, Lovin’ Los Libros, Too Fond of Books, A Bookish Escape, Lazy Book Lovers and more. I’m probably forgetting some. And I’m sorry. Know that I love you too.
Huge thanks to my agent, Marisa Corvisiero, who is my biggest champion. And thank you to Amanda Bergeron, who loves what I write and allows me to be me. You are so inspiring, Amanda. And I love working with you.
I couldn’t write a single word without my amazing critique partners Natalie Blitt, A. J. Pine, Lex Martin, Lia Riley, and Lucas Hargis. Big hugs to you all. You are my everything.
Thank you to my Cool Kids Mafia, NAAU, ’14 NA debuts and my BUB girls who have been with me before I ever wrote a word of a novel.
Thank you so much to Jennifer L. Armentrout for reading this book and loving it like I did and lending your name for the cover. I admire you so much as an author, so this was a real honor.
To every single person that read or reviewed or talked about MAKE IT COUNT, I love you. And I’m writing for you. Because you saw something in my writing and characters that made you want to read more.
To my family—thank you for understanding when I ignore your phone calls and retreat to my writing cave. Thank you to my amazing husband and my wonderful kids. Thank you to my friends for supporting me. And Andi—you still aren’t one of the “little people.”
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
An Excerpt from Make It Last
About the Author
Also By Megan Erickson
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
MAX DRAINED HIS cup of beer and closed his eyes to let the sounds of the party sink into his skin and down into his bones.
This usually worked—the alcohol in his veins, the music, the friends. The girls.
He fed off others’ energy, always had. His favorite thing to do to unwind was to head out to a bar or party and just let loose.
So when his roommate Cam found him cursing and pacing his room like an animal after a particularly delightful phone call with his father—Max curled his lip in a sneer just thinking about it—he’d encouraged Max to go out. That’s what his friends did. They knew him better than he knew himself sometimes.
But for once, Max hadn’t wanted to. He’d wanted to go to the gym and sweat out all the anger, but Cam was persistent. So Max relented.
He knew now he shouldn’t have.
Because the beer tasted skunked and the music hurt his head and even the girls weren’t interesting.
The redhead beside him right now was still talking. He’d asked her one question about her major, and she was still rambling on about it five minutes later.
He’d said maybe two sentences to this girl, both questions about herself, but she was clearly still into him, pressing her chest against his folded arms. The lace of her bra peaked out the top of her neckline, and he could feel the textured fabric through her thin shirt when it brushed against his knuckles.
He hadn’t even been in the mood to lay on the charm. He knew how to stand, how to smile with his eyes. Smize, one of his brother’s ex-girlfriends had called it with a giggle.
Whatever it was. He knew how to do it. And knew how to get the girl. Too bad he didn’t want her.
Fuck this shit.
He set his empty beer cup on a window ledge. “Um, Kelly,” he said, cutting in when she finally took a breath. He remembered her name, because he always remembered names. Kelly blinked and peered up at him through her lashes, lips parted. She was hot. Big rack. A year ago, she would have been his type. Hell, most girls were his type. But lately, they’d reminded him of how much he’d almost fucked up his life.
Except that one girl . . .
He shook his head, and leaned down to speak into her ear. He heard a stuttered inhale and resisting rolling his eyes. “I gotta head out. I forgot I need to get home. Early morning.” He leaned back and shot her a smile. Or smize. Whatever.
Confusion crossed her face, but he was over this scene. “Sorry,” he said with a shrug and turned away before she could respond.
Max searched the sea of bodies for Cam. The guy was over in the corner with a girl, flashing his dimples while she looked up at him with pure infatuation. Max rolled his eyes and hollered, “Ruiz!”
Cam turned his head and Max gave him the sign he was heading out. Cam waved in acknowledgment and turned back to his girl of the night.
Max made his way through the crowd, feeling a couple of touches on his arms or shoulders, some “Hey Max”’s, but he kept walking because he wasn’t in the mood and enough people already thought he was an asshole.
He wished Alec, his best friend, was around, but he’d decided to stay home with his girlfriend, Kat, tonight. Kat, who used to be Max’s girlfriend. Before he fucked it up.
Life was complicated.
Once he stepped outside, he pulled up the collar of his jacket against the early October air and walked briskly back to the townhouse he shared with Alec and Cam. The phone call with his dad still rankled, the words poking him with their sharp edges.
He’d mentioned changing his major, had barely even spoken the words when his dad proclaimed Paytons stick together! and Max was expected to complete his business degree and then work at his dad’s mechanic shop, helping with the books and business side of things.
Max didn’t want to, but the obligation to work with his dad and two brothers weighed heavily on his shoulders. Plus, his dad said he wouldn’t hesitate to withdraw his tuition help, and Max couldn’t afford to cover it, despite his two jobs.
The bastard.
The lights of the convenience store near his house caught his eye and he changed direction, suddenly hungry for those super-greasy pizzas they made in the back and kept in a warmer on the counter.
He was still a little drunk but hopefully the cheese, dough and sauce would mop up the rest of the awful beer sitting like acid in his stomach.
He crossed the p
arking lot and then stopped beside the front doors, fumbling inside his pockets. His phone fell out and he cursed as it clattered on the sidewalk. He shoved it back in his coat pocket and then dug his wallet out of his back jeans pocket. He blinked at it blearily and tried to count his bills.
He kept losing count of his ones and had to start over. Fucking beer.
The bell on the convenience store door tinkled and he heard a voice—that damn musical voice that hit him in the gut every time he heard it. And he couldn’t figure out why.
He looked up from his wallet and there she was, Lea Travers, talking to some tall blond guy, his arm around her slender shoulders.
Max must have made a sound or movement because Lea turned her head, her long, dark straight hair swirling around her shoulders. In the glow of the streetlights, her eyes were even bigger, rounder and darker than normal, staring at him from under her thick fringe of bangs.
She wore low-heeled knee-high boots and tight jeans and a thigh-length pink jacket that cinched at the waist. Her full lips were parted and her cheeks flushed, probably from the warmth of the convenience store she just left.
For a moment, he enjoyed the way she looked at him, a little bit of curious hope.
He’d met her last year, because she was friends with Kat. There was something about Lea, this power or strength that lurked below the surface of her small, fragile frame. He wanted to grab that strength, roll around in it like a cat in catnip.
Max looked to the guy who stood next to her, a proprietary arm around her shoulders—which Max glared at—and a pizza box in the other hand. The guy was tall and blond and had big blue eyes and looked like he just came from Wimbledon, where he had front-row seats because he was the heir to his dad’s pharmaceutical business. He was the kind of kid whose dad drove some fancy BMW or Mercedes into the shop and then looked down on Max and his brothers, with their grease-stained clothes and fingernails.
He looked vaguely familiar but Max couldn’t place him, and the guy’s perfect hair and collared polo made him want to hurl.
So she had a boyfriend. And Max was done, absolutely positively fucking done with girls who were attached. He’d almost lost his best friend over the last time he’d let himself get involved with one.
So, like always, he fell back on what he knew. He curled his upper lip into a smirk, opened his mouth, and let out the asshole. “Hey there, doll.”
Lea’s eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line. Well, it’d been nice while it lasted. His fault. Her lips parted one time to sigh. “Hi, Max.”
He didn’t want it to be this way between them. He wanted to saunter up next to her, wrap an arm around her neck and look down into those dark eyes while they filled with lust . . .
Shit. Fucking drunken daydreams. None of that was happening because somehow, around Lea, he turned into a six-year-old boy, teasing the girl he wanted the most.
And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t curb the asshole. He jerked a thumb at the convenience door. “Might want to find a new boyfriend, there, Travers. Clearly Polo Boy can afford to take you to a nicer place.” The words were coming, coming up like vomit, and with them came a heavy helping of self-loathing. He couldn’t stop them. “Although, if a convenience-store pizza is all it takes to get a date with you, even I can afford that.”
Polo Boy opened his mouth but Lea tapped his chest with the back of her hand, so he clamped his jaws shut.
Max’s mouth just had a mind of his own now. “Oh, he replies to hand signals, too? Got ’em trained.”
“Max, why are you always such an asshole?” The worst part about it was that Lea wasn’t angry, her voice wasn’t biting, it was dripping with disappointment and that was worse. He wanted her to be angry and stomp in a huff. He wanted a reaction.
He didn’t want pity.
He spread his arms wide. “That’s who I am, doll.” It was a lie, but he’d perfected being an asshole to an art. Just like the charmer role. It was easier than trying to figure out who he really was or wanted to be.
Her eyes narrowed more, and then Polo Boy spoke up. “Look—”
Lea cut him off. “It’s fine, Nick. Let’s go.”
They walked away, Polo Boy’s arm around her shoulders, Lea’s limp from a childhood car accident more pronounced in the cold weather.
Max gritted his teeth. For once keeping his mouth shut from calling after them to ask what would buy him second base.
He looked at his wallet again in his hands and shoved it back into his pocket. He wasn’t hungry for pizza anymore.
LEA STARED AT her boots as she walked and curled her hands into fists in the pockets of her jacket. Nick was silent beside her, lost in his own thoughts.
She hadn’t known Max long, and what she knew of him wasn’t so great. He’d dated Kat and hadn’t been a very good boyfriend. And everything about Max, from his swagger to his snug T-shirts to his cocky smirk, screamed confident asshole.
Which meant he wasn’t for her.
But tonight, for a brief moment, those big, expressive brown eyes had showed a glimmer of hope before he blinked. Then the alcohol haze clouded over them, and that little sliver of another Max disappeared with one curl of his lips.
She wondered if he realized how much those eyes gave him away when he wasn’t careful. She wondered if anyone ever tried to look deeper.
She wondered if he wanted anyone to.
Nick squeezed her shoulder. “You all right?”
She chewed her cheek. “Yeah, just thinking.”
“You know I went to high school with him, right?”
Lea looked up at her cousin and saw his blond stubble catching the rays of the streetlights. “What? Who?”
Nick gestured behind them. “Max Payton. He went to Tory High School.”
She frowned. “But—“
“I’m three years younger. I mean, I doubt he has any idea who I am. I only know him because, well, everyone knew Max when he was a senior. Popular guy.”
“Why didn’t you say anything just now?”
Nick shrugged. “What’s the point? So he can say, ‘I don’t remember you?’ I was just a freshman. Doubt he ever saw me.” He picked at his shirt. “And he was glaring holes in my polo shirt like it personally offended him.”
“He was just drunk.”
“I don’t know, maybe he hates horses.”
Lea laughed. “I don’t think that’s it.”
“But can you imagine him on a horse? Max is a big dude. Poor horse.”
Lea elbowed Nick in the ribs. “Stop.”
“He’d probably try to bench-press the horse.”
Lea elbowed him harder. “Nick, stop!”
Nick chuckled and squeezed her shoulder again before dropping his arm. “So, that’s kind of funny he thought we were dating.”
Lea wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”
Nick scrunched his lips to the side. “I mean, we’re not actually related by blood, so . . .” he waggled his eyebrows.
“Seriously, ew. And you have a girlfriend.”
“Threesome?”
“Nick.”
He bumped her with his hip and laughed as they climbed the stairs to his place. When they opened the door, Nick’s girlfriend, Trish, bounded up from the couch. “Finally! What took you guys so long? I’m starving.”
She grabbed the box from Nick and immediately began to dish out slices onto paper plates. Lea took her plate and sat on the beanbag chair, tucking her legs under her. Trish sat across from her and when Nick sat down, he gave Trish a soft kiss on the forehead. They’d started dating sophomore year in high school, and the affection between them melted Lea’s heart every time.
“So, Lea and I are together now,” Nick started, “and my name is Polo, and I am a crappy boyfriend who takes her on convenience-store dates.”
Trish froze with her pizza halfway to her mouth. “What are you talking about?”
“We ran into Max Payton and . . .” Nick turned to Lea. “Wait, how do you know
him?”
“He used to date my friend Kat, who is now dating his friend Alec.”
Nick blinked.
Lea picked off a slice of pepperoni and dropped it into her mouth. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“Alec Stone goes here too?” Nick asked.
“Oh yeah, I guess you know him, too. He and Max went to high school together.”
“Small world,” Trish said.
Nick shrugged. “A lot of kids from surrounding high schools apply here.” He looked at Lea. “And can we talk about how he was flirting with you?”
Lea snapped her head back. “In what world was that flirting? He was an asshole.”
“Wait, what happened?” Trish asked.
Nick held up a hand. “Okay, I admit it was a poor attempt. But he didn’t like my arm around her shoulder, I’ll tell you that,” Nick muttered.
Lea rolled her eyes. “I don’t think Max has a problem picking up girls, so if he wanted to be effective, he would have been.”
Nick picked at the cheese on his pizza. “I don’t know, maybe he didn’t want to be.”
“I’m really confused right now,” Trish said.
Lea shifted on the beanbag chair. “Me too.”
Nick looked up. “I’m not saying it’s mature, but sometimes, when a guy wants a girl but knows he doesn’t have a shot? Well, he’s kind of a dick.”
Lea narrowed her eyes. “Max has no interest in me.”
Nick cocked his head.
“Seriously!” Lea threw up her hands. “There is no way.”
“Why?”
“Because . . .” She pressed her lips together. Nick’s previous girlfriend was Kat. Beautiful, effervescent, nothing serious—until she met Alec—Kat. Lea was . . . well, cynical and a little grumpy sometimes and wouldn’t stand by while Max acted the asshole. She waved her hands. “I think I’m done with this conversation.”
Make It Right Page 1
