Make It Right

by Megan Erickson

  Max’s dad rubbed his palms together. “And her injury . . .”

  “Childhood car accident.”

  He nodded. “I guess I owe her an apology then, too.”

  Max ran his tongue over his teeth. “Yep, I think you do.”

  “I can do that,” he said quietly.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Jeremy woke up Max, telling him it was time for his MRI. He helped Max into a wheelchair, and Max let him because no one was around to make fun of him for being a baby.

  The MRI showed he still had some swelling in his brain. And for a split second, Max wanted to go give those fuckers some swelling in their brains. The cops had talked to him yesterday, asking him questions and letting him know about the charges against the three criminals. So that thought calmed him down. Jeremy let him eat, and Max fell asleep again.

  He woke up on his own this time, and his dad was beside him, elbow propped on the arm of his chair, chin in his hand, watching Sports Center.

  “Dad,” Max said.

  He jerked his head up and then grabbed a cup of water off of Max’s side table. “Thirsty?”

  Max nodded and took the proffered cup. “How long have you been here?”

  His dad shrugged. “Hour? Two. I think I fell asleep for a little.”

  “It’s quiet here during the day.”

  “Yeah, it’s not the maternity ward. Loud as shit there.”

  Max shifted to face his father. “Yeah?”

  His dad kept his eyes on the TV. “Cal and Brent both had colic, so the hospital stays were a blur of screaming. But you . . .” he cleared his throat, “you were a really good baby. Slept well, ate well. Being in the hospital with you was like a vacation.”

  “Really?” He never heard much about when he was a kid. His mom had left shortly after and it always seemed like his dad blocked out that part of his life.

  “Yeah, I let your mother sleep because she was always so tired from the boys and . . . you slept in my arms on the pullout couch in the room.”

  “I slept on you?”

  His dad looked at him. “You slept the best on me. Your mother said she thought I made you feel more secure than when she held you.”

  How had he gone twenty-two years and never heard any of this?

  His dad waved his hand. “Good thing, because when she left you didn’t seem too bothered by it. As long as I was there.” He sighed. “You got really dependent on me. So I tried to break you of that.”

  Max never remembered feeling dependent on his father. But looking back, he’d always felt safe.

  So if his father didn’t want him to feel dependent on him anymore, then it was time to break free, wasn’t it? Time to be honest.

  All this time he’d thought his desire for something different for his future meant he was weak. That if he could just buckle down and stay strong, stay the course his father had set for the family, that he’d be rewarded.

  Then he’d be a real man.

  But now, every throb of his head was like a lighthouse beacon, shining into the recesses of his heart.

  His dream of teaching, of coaching, of making a difference in people’s lives in the way he wanted to wasn’t a weakness. It was only weak if he didn’t stick up for himself.

  And as he gazed at his father, sitting beside his bed with his arms crossed over his chest, he knew he was done being weak.

  Because the longer he suppressed himself, the more he’d atrophy, until who knew how much Max would actually be left.

  If his dad truly wanted Max to be an independent man, then this was the right decision.

  “I don’t want to work at the garage after I graduate,” he said.

  His dad jerked his head toward him, then moved the chair so it faced the bed rather than the TV. “What did you say?”

  “I want to change my major. I want to teach physical education and coach.”

  His dad was eerily still. Max braced himself because his dad definitely had a “calm before the storm” mood. Or more like the eye of the storm. Because no matter which way you turned, you hit the swirl of temper.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m just being honest,” he whispered.

  Slowly, his dad ran his lips over his teeth and studied his hands. Full of callouses and grease permanently worked into his nail beds. His whole body showed a life of hard work. Six days a week. Sunup to sundown.

  “What do you want to coach?”

  Okay, so he wasn’t yelling. So far, so good. His dad didn’t give two shits about creating a scene in public so Max didn’t expect their location was in his favor. “Hockey.”

  His dad’s gaze trailed over his face, stopping on the scar above his eye, caused by a hockey stick when he was little. If they wanted to go through the injuries Max had suffered, they’d be there all day.

  “How long have you been thinking about this?”

  Max licked his lips and went with honesty. “A long time.”

  His dad nodded and looked back down at his hands. “And you didn’t tell me because . . . ?”

  Max picked at the blanket pooled at his waist. “I thought you’d quit helping me pay. I thought you’d disown me. I thought you’d flip your shit.”

  A lip twitch. “Flip my shit.”

  “Come on, Dad, you know—”

  “I know. I know.”

  Max tapped his fingers. “So, are you going to flip your shit? A warning would be nice. I might need more pain meds.”

  “I guess I didn’t give you the impression I won’t flip my shit, did I?”

  Who was this guy? “Dad, who are you? I didn’t have a near-death experience. I just got hit in the head. And all of a sudden you are . . . I don’t know . . . different . . . and I—”

  He held his hand up and Max snapped his jaw shut.

  “Brent flapped his gums,” his dad said.

  “What?”

  “I heard him talking to Cal and Cal was angry that Brent discouraged you. And I . . . I realized that Brent did that because he probably thought that’s what I would do. But Cal said he was proud of you for wanting something different and I . . . I realized that it was unrealistic to keep all of you in that shop with me. It’s hard work. Your brothers and I like it. But I can’t make you do something you don’t want to, can I?”

  Max nodded. “Actually, yeah, yeah you can.”

  “Okay, but do I want to?”

  Max squinted. “ I don’t know. Do you?”

  He shook his head, but Max could see the sadness lingering in his eyes. “No,” he said quietly. “I realize I didn’t make it easy on you to tell me.”

  This was the first honest discussion he’d had with his dad. Ever. Was he dreaming?

  “I need to check in at the shop, so I gotta get going.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  He leaned in and gripped Max’s shoulder. “We’ll talk more later.”

  MAX SAT ON the end of his hospital bed, humming to himself and tapping his feet. His brain was “A-OK” (that wasn’t the medical term, but he stopped listening when they used Latin words) and so he’d been discharged. And now he was waiting until Cal could pick him up and drive him home.

  He wasn’t allowed back at school for a week, which was going to be hell on his classes, but at least he could e-mail his advisor to get an appointment to switch his major.

  And then he needed to phone Lea.

  Or bet at her doorstep.

  Anything, really.

  His door opened and Max looked up, expecting to see his brother, but instead a pompadoured head peered in.

  “Zuk!” Max cried, thrilled as hell to see his friend. Cal said he’d talked to him and Max had been sad he’d been conked out and missed him.

  “Hey, man.” Alec smiled and walked forward with a container in his hand.

  Max eyed it. “What you got there, Zuk?”

  Alec set the container down on the bed and stood in front of Max. “I come to drive you home from the hospital after you got pistol-whipped and you only care about what treats I broug
ht?”

  Max reached for the container. “That’s old news.”

  “Max.” His voice was pleading.

  He met his best friend’s gaze, noticing his eyes were bloodshot behind his glasses, his skin pale. “How about you never do this shit again, okay? Because I . . .” Alec shook his head and looked at the floor.

  Max’s stomach dropped. Alec lost his father as a kid. He didn’t have a huge circle of friends but the ones he cared about had his whole heart. And Max was lucky to still be in that circle.

  “Hey, dude. I’m all right. It sucked but I played it smart, didn’t I?” Max asked.

  Alec looked up with a wry grin. “Yeah, you played it smart. Proud of you for not trying to be a hero. Because you were a hero. Your brothers tell you they got the guys?”

  Max nodded.

  Alec nudged his shoulder. “Good job, man. So, how’s the head?”

  “All right. Just got a killer headache. Happy to be heading home.

  “Good.”

  “Okay, enough chitchat, what’s in the container?”

  Alec rolled his eyes and plopped it in Max’s lap. “Danica, believe it or not, felt sorry for your ass and made you muffins.”

  Max peeled off the lid and popped one in his mouth. “Oh wow, apple cinnamon. These are fucking great.” He stopped chewing. “Did Lea help her?”

  Alec’s smile froze and then faded. “I don’t know.”

  Max swallowed his lump of barely chewed muffin that wasn’t so tasty anymore. There was something in Alec’s posture, like he knew something he wasn’t telling. “Have you talked to her?”

  Alec blew out a breath and looked out the window of the hospital. “Uh . . .”

  “Please just tell me whatever—“

  “I think you need to talk to her.” Alec met Max’s gaze.

  “Well, no shit.”

  “I don’t know everything that happened but—“

  “You probably heard it, what, like third or fourth hand by the time what happened made it to Kat’s ears and then yours? Who knows what you heard.”

  Alec chuckled. “A dragon swooped in and threatened to burn down the garage, but Lea tore off a helmet and said, I’m no man!’ ”

  Max glowered. “There was no Lord of the Rings reenactment. But that would have been fucking awesome.”

  “I talked to her, asshole. And, basically, you didn’t acknowledge you knew her and stood there like a lump when your dad was a misogynist dick.”

  The bit of muffin churned in Max’s stomach. “That sounds really bad.”

  “I think it was pretty bad, Max.”

  “Like you’ve never fucked up—”

  “Don’t make this about me. I have fucked up. But then I fixed that fuckup.”

  Max smashed his fist down on the mattress. “I was trying to fix my fuckup, but then I got jumped by some pistol-wielding kleptomaniacs. And I’ve been in a hospital since then. What am I supposed to do?”

  Alec shift his lips from side to side. “You could call her.”

  “I’m not calling her to grovel. She has to see my puppy-dog eyes. And maybe I’ll flex a little and try to look handsome at the same time.”

  He expected Alec to laugh and assure him he’d get his girl, but Alec didn’t look very confident.

  Max reached over to his side table and grabbed his shirt. “She visited me while I was sleeping and brought this.”

  Alec reached for the shirt and held it out in front of him, a small smile on his lips as he took in the logo. He dropped it back onto Max’s lap. “How do you know Kat didn’t bring it? Or me?”

  Max narrowed his eyes. “Don’t try to confuse the head-injury victim. I know it was her, okay? I know. I heard her voice, and I felt her touch, and I can smell her scent on this shirt. It’s driving me fucking crazy and giving me a hard-on which is super awkward because my nurse is a dude.”

  Alec reared back in his seat and put his hands up. “Max, swear to God, I didn’t need to know that. At all. Fuck, man.”

  “That’s what you get for trying to mess with me.”

  Alec rolled his eyes. “So you’re not giving up?”

  “Fuck no.”

  Alec let a small smile through. “She’s got her armor back on. It’s gonna be tough to climb that wall with her again.”

  Max knew that. It hadn’t been easy to conquer “Mount Lea.” He didn’t know if he had it in him again but he sure as hell was going to make the trek again. He hoped the altitude didn’t kill him.

  While they waited for a nurse to bring his discharge papers, Max told Alec all about his conversation with his dad. Alec was surprised that Max stood up to his dad, but he was proud of Max for finally standing strong.

  They talked about what it would take to change his major and estimated Max would have to attend another full year. He hated the thought of sitting out of graduation when Alec, Cam, Lea and Danica graduated but at least he’d have Kat to keep him company next year, when she’d be a senior.

  And in the whole picture of his life, one more year in college was worth it to get the degree he wanted, to do what he wanted.

  When Jeremy brought the discharge papers, he also brought a wheelchair.

  “Seriously?” Max whined.

  The nurse patted the padded back. “Sorry, it’s policy.”

  Max rolled his eyes and plopped down onto the seat while Jeremy opened up the leg rests.

  “Zuk can roll me out,” Max said to Jeremy, and the nurse nodded and led the way to the lobby.

  Max tapped his fingers on the armrests and said over his shoulder to Alec, “Can you make zooming noises?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Come on—”

  “No.”

  Max pouted, and then when they went around a turn at the end of the hallway, Max made a high-pitched screeching sound out of the side of his mouth.

  “Seriously?”

  “You’re no fun.”

  Chapter 23

  LEA DOUBLE-CHECKED THE meeting time with her advisor and then closed her browser, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

  She’d received an e-mail earlier in the week from him, requesting her at his Wednesday office hours. Dr. Mayberry didn’t say why, but she assumed it had something to do with her student-teaching assignment next spring.

  She glanced at her phone, which had been abnormally silent today. In the last week, she’d had all kinds of phone calls and texts—from her parents, sister, Alec, Kat and even Danica when she couldn’t corner Lea in their apartment.

  The name she both loathed and loved to see never showed. Part of her wanted him to fight for her. And every time she thought of him in that hospital room, she wanted to throw up.

  Which told her she wasn’t over this. Over them. Not even close.

  When she reached Dr. Mayberry’s office, she knocked lightly and the door gave way beneath her knuckles.

  She stepped into the office, smiling at Dr. Mayberry and then froze in her tracks when the door opened the rest of the way to reveal Max.

  Max Payton. Lounging on a chair in front of Dr. Mayberry’s desk looking not at all surprised to see her.

  In fact . . . was he smirking?

  Dr. Mayberry stood behind his desk, and Lea tore her gaze from Max before she tore out his throat. What was he doing here?

  “Lea, this is Max Payton, although he said you know each other.”

  Lea didn’t trust herself to look at Max, but she swore he snickered.

  “Anyway, Max has just changed his major to secondary education.”

  Lea flinched at the words. Was she the one with the head injury? Did he just say Max changed his major? She slowly turned to Max, sure that confusion was written all over her face. He stared back, smirk gone, a slight challenge in his eyes. Was this a joke? Did he really . . .

  “And since he’s making the change senior year,” Dr. Mayberry continued, “he suggested another student help with the transition. And he mentioned you helped one of his friends, Kat Caruso. So,
if you’re willing, I’d like you to give him a little guidance.”

  Her ears burned. She clenched the strap of her book bag until she was sure the nylon pattern would be etched into her palms. Max had engineered this. He’d kept silent for a week, letting her think he was fading into her past when really he was plotting a way to sneak into her future.

  The jerk.

  Dr. Mayberry cocked his head, confusion passing over his face. She loved her advisor. He’d been wonderful and supportive since she was a freshman, so she didn’t want to let him down.

  And Max knew she wouldn’t say no, pass off a responsibility. Even if she thought it was stupid and unnecessary.

  The jerk.

  She cleared her throat and eased up on the death grip she held on her bag strap. “Yep, I’d be happy to help.”

  Dr. Mayberry clapped, clearly happy to have passed off this duty. “You can start with showing him around the education building. You two can exchange numbers and if you have any problems, please see me.” He turned to Max, who stood beside her, and the two men shook hands. “You’re in good hands.”

  “I know I am,” Max said and the grin in his voice made her see red.

  They walked out of the office side by side. And Lea hated that part of her that wanted to lean into Max’s warmth, wanted to feel his arm around her shoulders, his breath on her face, his lips at her ear. She wanted to touch him back, run her hands over his head and down his arms, to verify tactically for herself that he was healthy and in one piece.

  She stared at the tile of the hallway. She stopped at a door and gestured inside. “This is one of the computer labs for the Grove Education Building. The other one is on the second floor, at the opposite end of the hallway.”

  Max stood in the doorway, facing her, his eyes boring into her. “I don’t really want a tour.”

  She ducked her head and kept talking. At the set of double doors at the end of the hallway, she pointed inside. “This is the faculty room, as we call it. It has all the office-type supplies the school provides us, like the copier and—”

  “I don’t give a shit about this room, Lea—”

  “—and a soda machine and this is where all the posters are hung for clubs or whatever on the bulletin board over there—”