Make It Right

by Megan Erickson

  Max shook his head. “No, but I can do a mean tackle.”

  Bruce snorted a laugh, but he seemed distracted. “Yeah, all right.”

  “You need something? Or—” But before Max could finish his question, Bruce’s phone vibrated on his hip.

  He glanced at it. “Ah, gotta get this. Talk to you later, Payton.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk and then walked away after barking a greeting into his phone.

  Max watched him go, curious what that question was about, but figured Bruce could catch him later. He made his schedule, after all.

  Ten minutes later, Max was off work, in his happy place at the leg-press machine.

  He gripped the handles of the bench, took a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled while straightening his legs, raising the leg-press bar. His legs burned from the second set of five hundred pounds, but leg day was his favorite and he had a lot of frustration to get out.

  But then the source of that frustration flashed in the mirror in front of him in a black and fuchsia vision and his knees buckled. As the weights clanged back into place, she jerked her head at the sound. Her dark ponytail whipped over her shoulder, and she locked eyes with him under her fringe of bangs.

  How had he never seen her at the gym before? Granted, he rarely went at night, but this morning’s routine got messed up when he had to make those stupid cookies for his brothers to take to his dad’s tomorrow.

  He didn’t move, just held her gaze, like she was a rare, beautiful doe and if he moved, she’d bound off. He’d never seen her with clothes that snug. The pink tank top showed off her small breasts with just the right amount of cleavage. Her black pants were skin tight, ending below the knee, hugging her perfect ass and narrow hips. She was a tiny thing, but how come he never noticed the definition in her arms and the muscles of her calves as she shifted her weight from foot to foot? Some scars twisted out from under the hem of her pant leg, and he wondered if she suffered from pain, or if her limp was from destroyed muscles.

  He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted her to give it back to him as good as he gave it. Anything to take his mind off of tomorrow, when he had to go home and see his dad, start his every-weekend sentence.

  When he raised his eyes back to hers, she jolted forward, like she thought about walking over to him, but then she shook her head and turned around, walking back toward the free weights.

  No. Fuck that. She wasn’t walking away. Not after the attitude she threw at him in the library earlier.

  He stood up, wiped down the machine with his towel, then threw it over his shoulder and walked toward Lea as he took a sip of water from his Camelbak bottle.

  She was bracing herself on a bench with her left knee and hand, her right leg straight with her foot on the floor. Her back was parallel to the bench as she executed a pretty damn good tricep kickback with a fifteen-pound weight, keeping the upper half of her arm tucked to her side, bending and straightening her elbow.

  But still, it was his job to mess with her, he decided. He couldn’t have her, but he’d take what he could get, even if it was a battle of insults.

  He stopped in front of her so the top of her head was about a foot from his thighs and he leaned back against the mirror, crossing one ankle over the other. A subtle shift of her body was his only indication she noticed him.

  “Nice technique.” He took another drink of water.

  Lea completed two more tricep kickbacks and he heard her mutter “twelve” under her breath before she straightened, the weight hanging at her side, knee braced on the bench. “Gee, thanks. I didn’t realize you were a personal trainer.”

  “I’m not.”

  She widened her eyes and looked around. “Oh! So this is free advice then. From . . . a random guy.”

  He straightened from the mirror. “Hey, I’m not some random guy.” What was it about her that made him defensive? He could never get the last word with her.

  She only smiled at him and rotated her wrist that held the weight.

  He pointed with his head toward the area behind her. “You know, they have a machine for triceps. You don’t have to use free weights.”

  She shifted now, straddling the bench, then knelt her right leg on the bench so she could perform the exercise on the other arm. “I’m aware of that. But I like using free weights, because it works out the stabilizer muscles.”

  He knew that. Fuck, he totally knew that but he was shocked she did. “How come I’ve never seen you in here before?”

  She raised her eyebrows and bent over. He admired the dark rope of hair that curled around her neck, and the beautiful strip of toned back muscle exposed above her tank top. “I don’t know. Either too busy looking at yourself or all the pretty shininess in here.” She jerked her head toward the treadmills where a blonde was running. Pretty hot with a big rack. But Max’s eyes went right back to that dark bent head. “Doll, my eyes are on the only thing in this room pretty and shiny.” The words were out before he could tell himself to stop flirting with her.

  Lea’s free weight wobbled. She swore softly and placed it on the rubber mat by her foot. She put her hands on her hips, but not before he spotted her hands shaking. “Don’t,” she said, softly but firmly.

  “What?” he asked, playing dumb.

  “Don’t,” she repeated and grabbed her bottle of water at her feet—a pink Camelbak that matched his gray one.

  “I don’t—”

  She took a drink, eyes on his. “Don’t play games with me, Max. I’ll win every time.”

  He frowned. “What games? I’m not—”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  He clenched his fists. “Don’t tell me what I’m doing, Lea. I’m not playing games with you. I don’t lie.”

  Those dark eyes burned into his and fired a flaming arrow right between his eyes. “Oh, you just omit the truth then.”

  He knew what she was referring to—the fact that he’d slept with Alec’s high-school girlfriend and kept it from him even after they broke up. Yeah, he was a shit, but he’d apologized. He was trying to be a better person. And who did she think she was? He leaned forward, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. “Don’t talk about that like you know what really happened, because you don’t. You don’t know me. And you don’t know how that guilt fucking ate at me every day. How I hated myself for being a coward for not telling the truth.”

  All the harshness from Lea’s face drained and those hard eyes that had previously burned with a pain-inducing heat now smoldered with a soothing warmth. A slender hand rose. Fingers brushed his chest and his eyelids dipped as the touch shot sparks over his heart.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have thrown that in your face. I . . .”

  But he didn’t find out what she planned to say next, because a phone chirped and she blinked, the connection between them broken by a stupid piece of microchipped plastic.

  She pulled her phone from a strap on her arm and glanced at it, frowning. She flicked her eyes up to him, like she was apologizing. “I’m sorry, but I need to answer this.” She tapped the screen. “Hey, Trish.”

  A voice sounded on the other end, loud and slightly hysterical and Lea’s face slowly paled. “What?” she said in a pained whisper.

  Max stepped closer and she leaned slightly into him. Something was obviously wrong but he found a small bit of satisfaction that his presence seemed to comfort her. And that should weird him out. Because he didn’t do this “damsel in distress” thing. He wasn’t a white knight. He’d learned that the hard way. But something about Lea made him want to be.

  Lea spoke into the phone. “Oh Trish, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there. The hospital in Maple Grove?”

  More hysterical words.

  “Okay, give me twenty. And tell Nick to hang in there.”

  Nick. The boyfriend.

  Max clenched his fists. He should step back. Get away. Run as far away from this tempting, beautiful doe as fast as he could.

  But her eye
s were wet and her lip quivered and he couldn’t leave her. So he waited, unsure if she wanted his words or not.

  She looked up at him finally, her eyes dry but her lips trembling. “That was Trish, Nick’s girlfriend, and . . .”

  Her voice trailed off, maybe because his face was surely a riot of confusion. Nick had another girlfriend? What kind of sister-wives shit was Lea into?

  She blinked and bit her lip. “Nick is my cousin. Trish is his girlfriend. I didn’t . . .” She waved a hand. “ . . . whatever. And, she just said he . . . oh shit.” She yanked on her ponytail so hard her scalp shifted.

  Max filed it away to deal with this Nick-cousin thing later. Because right now, something was bothering her, and everything in him screamed to root it out and make it better. He batted her hands away and placed his on her slender shoulders. “Doll, take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”

  She looked at him with eyes no longer dry. Her hesitation was unmistakable. He could feel her trying to pull away under his palms so he softened his voice. “Hey, fight your flight instinct and talk to me.”

  He didn’t know if it was his words or his voice but her muscles slackened under his fingers and her weight sagged into him.

  “Trish said Nick was robbed or mugged right outside his apartment and . . . and . . .”

  A tear slipped down her cheek, and he massaged her shoulders with his thumbs. She took a deep breath and her next words were said on a gasp, brown eyes pleading with him to tell a different truth. “ . . . beaten up.”

  Max’s breath left his body in a rush. “And he’s at the hospital now?”

  Lea nodded, her eyes welling up again, but she focused on his face, as if their eye contact was the only thing keeping her body from collapsing. He squeezed her shoulders and jerked his head toward the door. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”

  She balked at that, the muscles again bunching, her face hardening, but he cut her off before she could protest. “Look, just let me help, okay? You’re upset, and you’ll be tired when you leave. Let me do this for you.”

  The muscles remained tense, but those eyes stayed on him. And with a jerky, reluctant nod from Lea, they were striding out of the gym, Max’s arm around her shoulders.

  Chapter 5

  DESPITE THE HEAT blasting from the vents, the cold air in Max’s truck clung to her bare legs and seeped through her thin exercise pants, but all Lea could think about was Trish’s voice, so broken. They hurt him, Lea. Bad.

  Because that flashed her back to another time, years ago, when she and Nick were rushed to the hospital. When her leg went from normal to broken.

  When the sight of Nick’s honey-blond hair resting on the white hospital pillow sent her heart plummeting into her stomach.

  Because she hadn’t protected him.

  Max kept his eyes on the road, right hand on top of the steering wheel, the other arm propped on his door, fingers rubbing his chin.

  He must have felt her eyes on him, because he glanced over quickly. His brows furrowed and he reached behind him into the cluttered cab. He pulled out a blanket and placed it on her lap. “Uh,” he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Sorry that blanket’s kinda dirty, but you’re . . . you know . . . not wearing much. So hopefully that helps.”

  She glanced down at the blanket, a sweatshirt material bearing Bowler University’s logo. Crumpled, dried leaves clung to the fabric and some patches held cakes of dried mud, but she wrapped it around her legs, thankful for the extra layer because the cold was no friend to her left leg.

  “Thanks,” she said, wishing she could ease the chill in her bones. Although she knew it wasn’t only from the cold, but the thought of Nick, battered and bruised.

  She wanted to punch something.

  He’d left the library early because she encouraged him to do so rather than work the rest of his shift and wait for his girlfriend. What if she’d just kept quiet? Would he have been at the wrong place at the wrong time? Or would he and Trish both be in the hospital as patients right now? She clenched her fists in the blanket that smelled so strongly of Max.

  They pulled into the drive of the hospital and Max drove right to the front doors.

  “You can’t park here.” Lea said, peering out the window.

  He leaned back in his seat. “I know, I’m dropping you off.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” Although, the ache in her leg was killing her now, the result of not stretching properly after her workout, then sitting in a cold, cramped car.

  “I know, but now you can get in there and find out where he is while I park. I’ll meet you in there, okay?”

  “I can get a ride back with Trish or something . . .”

  He shook his head and nodded toward the door, his voice soft but firm. “Lea, please get out of the car. I’ll be in as soon as I can, and I’ll take you home.”

  This was weird, the way he looked at her. The bright lights of the hospital shone into the depths of his dark eyes.

  Earlier today, she wanted to deck him, and in the last hour, he’d allowed her to lean on him, physically and emotionally. He’d provided a much-needed ride and even noticed she was cold and offered a blanket, for God’s sakes.

  None of that aligned with the brash, cocky flirt he usually appeared to be. She wondered which was the act, but she thought she knew. And when her mind was clear and not on Nick, she’d examine it further.

  She realized she’d been sitting there, silently, staring at him as he stared back at her. “Um, okay,” she mumbled, awkwardly trying to fold the blanket, which was stupid because it was dirty and it’s previous home was in a heap in the back of the cab. She swiped her bangs out of her eyes and wrenched open the truck door. “See you inside.”

  Max nodded, and she lowered herself out of the truck, then slammed it behind her. He didn’t pull away until she was past the security guard and inside the hospital.

  Once inside, she texted Trish, asking if Nick had been admitted yet. Trish texted back the room number and Lea asked directions from the help desk before sinking into a stiff hospital chair in the lobby to wait for Max.

  She didn’t have to wait long. Max walked into the lobby with purpose, his cheeks red from the cold, his chest rising and falling rapidly so Lea got the impression he ran from the parking lot. Or at least jogged.

  He spotted her and walked over, hands on his hips. “You know where he is?”

  “Room 428.”

  He made to walk to the help desk, but Lea placed a hand on his arm. “I already asked, we just have to take the North Tower elevators over there to the fourth floor.”

  “Good job, doll.” He guided her forward with just two fingers on her lower back. And why did those three words, said in an approving tone, make her feel warmer than that stupid blanket? Since when did she care at all about what Max thought of her?

  Since he was there for you, a voice in her head whispered, but she ignored that, too. Another item on her mental checklist to analyze later in private.

  They were the only two on the elevator. Max leaned back, bracing himself with spread arms on the silver bar, legs spread, eyes on the digital numbers over the doors in front of them. He was a picture of placid while Lea’s insides stormed. She tried to be inconspicuous as she leaned a little into his arm, the warmth of it like a comforting brand across her back.

  When the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, those fingers were back, barely there, just a brush of heat through her thin jacket.

  They made their way down the hall to 428 and when they reached the room, Max’s fingers were gone.

  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m just gonna hang out here on the bench in the hallway. Take all the time you need.”

  She glanced at her watch. It was 8:30, so visiting hours were over in about a half hour. “You sure that’s not too late for you?”

  He sank onto the bench and stretched out his legs, eyes falling closed like he planned to settle in and be there a while. “Nope.”r />
  She bit her lip, eyes on those thick arms crossed over his chest. They’d been around her less than a half hour ago, holding her together when she threatened to crack apart.

  One dark eye opened. “You going to stare at me or go see your cousin?”

  She jolted. “Um, I’m heading in.”

  He closed his eyes again.

  Not that she didn’t like staring at Max, but she was also stalling, not too excited to head into the room and see her injured cousin.

  But she’d promised Trish she’d come. So she took a deep breath and placed her hand on the door.

  “Hey,” a deep voice came from behind her.

  She turned around.

  Both Max’s eyes were open now. “Just . . . uh . . . don’t fawn over him too much, ya know? Visit with him, and tell him to get rest and heal fast and all of that, all right? Don’t coddle him and make him feel weak.”

  As if she didn’t know what it was like to be in a hospital bed. As if she hadn’t been surrounded by coddling and fawning.

  But it hadn’t made her feel weak. It’d made her feel loved and cared for.

  She churned Max’s words around inside her head, twisting and pulling at them until the meaning between the words seeped out.

  Max’s jaw was tense, his neck and shoulders tight in a challenge. But his face still held a hint of vulnerability, like he hadn’t meant to blurt that out.

  Even though she didn’t agree with what he said, she could tell he’d told her from a place of concern. About Nick and herself. He thought he was right.

  She forced the annoyance down and said softly, “There’s nothing wrong with showing him how much I care. How worried I am.”

  Max’s arms were crossed over his chest, and his fisted hands clenched. “He’s a guy and—”

  “Max,” she kept her tone low and nonthreatening. “He’s my cousin, so I know him. And no matter how hurt he is, he knows he’s a strong person. Nothing I say in there will change that.”

  Max’s lips parted slightly and his tongue peeked out to run along the bottom of his front teeth. Once. Twice. And then he mumbled something under his breath.