Cold Hard Truth

by Anne Greenwood Brown

  The Wednesday night classes might have taught him how to curb his predilection toward overreaction, but he still had a hard time ignoring his base instincts. He didn’t know how Emmie knew Nick had forgiven her, but forgiveness was a good thing. He could get behind that. Nobody got revenge against someone they’d forgiven. So why did he feel the urge to dive in front of her and take a bullet?

  After the shift was over and the crew had been dropped off at the sheriff’s office, Max tried to follow Emmie to her car, but she ran, jumped in, and took off while he was still standing on the sidewalk. Max tried texting her: Please. Emmie. I need to talk to you.

  But she never replied.

  He tried to call, but she never picked up. Emmie, it’s Max. Can I come over? It will only take a minute.

  The afternoon drew on, and as Max sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his reflection in his mirror, his nerves grew long and tight. Time slowed. It was like sitting in the penalty box and waiting out the last few seconds of the power play.

  How was he going to get through this? He had a game tonight, and he didn’t trust himself. His hands were already shaking, his fingers twitching against his thighs. His heart raced, and his vision tunneled. Max was afraid for anyone who got too close to him tonight. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

  When his phone rang, Max about jumped out of his skin. Emmie!

  But when he looked at the screen, it wasn’t Emmie’s name. It was a familiar number though, and as ridiculous it sounded, he halfway expected to hear Jade’s voice on the other side.

  “Hello?” he asked cautiously, gripping the edge of his mattress.

  “How are you doing, Max?” It wasn’t Jade, of course; it was her mother, Mrs. Howard. Max knew there was a reason he recognized the number.

  Things had been tense between the Howards and Shepherds since the accident. Max didn’t think she was really calling to see how he was doing. Mrs. Howard was too much of a mess herself to care.

  “I’m fine. How are you?” he asked.

  “Of course you’re fine.” Her voice was ragged, gasping, as if she couldn’t get enough air to form her words. “Walking around, living your life while my baby is in the ground.”

  And there it was. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Max’s heart stuttered in his chest before picking up at an alarming speed. At least Mrs. Howard was getting to her point right away.

  It didn’t make any difference to her that he’d lost Jade too. She was crazy if she thought Max didn’t feel every jagged edge of it.

  A sob hitched in her throat. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you’re alive when my baby is dead.”

  Max closed his eyes and leaned forward, elbows resting on knees. He couldn’t disagree. Life wasn’t fair, and the least he could do for Jade’s mother was to keep his mouth shut and let her unload. Why shouldn’t he be the one to shoulder her grief? She deserved that relief, and he owed her that much. More. So much, much more.

  “Jade had plans. She was going to be something special. She was special. It’s your fault, and you don’t take any responsibility for what happened to her.”

  I do, Max thought. Of course I do. But when he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out but strangled air.

  He laid his hand over his eyes as the verbal onslaught continued, words biting and slashing like shards of broken glass. And then, just as quickly and explosively as it started, it was over. The phone clicked off, and his screen went dark.

  Slowly, Max reached over toward his bedside table and set down his phone. His blood ran cold in his arms. His hands felt numb. The periphery of his vision was closing in. When his mom brought in his clean jersey, she stopped in her tracks.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Max looked up. His mother’s eyes were red from crying, the lids puffy against her lashes. She looked the way he felt.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Babe.”

  He looked away. He couldn’t look at her face any more.

  She laid his jersey on the back of his chair. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  Max tossed his pillow toward the end of his bed and bowed his head. “No.”

  His mom bit the inside of her cheek and nodded. She walked toward his closet and fussed with his hangers like it was suddenly important for them to be evenly spaced. “Are you ready for the game?”

  “I’m always ready,” Max said.

  “I mean, is your head ready? It’s a big game. The last of the regular season.” She finished with the hangers and turned to face him. “It couldn’t have come on a worse day.”

  “I’ve got it!” Max exploded. He looked up at his mother and instantly regretted his tone. The pain he caused her—now and before—were both etched into her face. He held her gaze, unable to find an adequate apology. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. He wished she hadn’t said anything at all. Didn’t she know that when you said things out loud, it made them more real? But still he was sorry.

  “Your father and I are going to get something to eat before your game. If you want, we could drop you off at the rink.”

  “No,” Max said. “I’ll drive myself.”

  She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Whether it was to keep herself from crying, or to decide whether she should be worried, he didn’t know. “You’re sure, honey? It might be nice—”

  “I think I just need a little time alone.”

  She gave a small nod and turned to go.

  Max could smell the laundry soap in his jersey from halfway across the room. It was then that he realized how stupid he’d been. No amount of fresh laundry would ever give him a fresh start. He was stuck. This was going to be his life forever, and he might as well get used to it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  BAD MOVE

  LATER THAT EVENING

  Emmie and her father were sitting in the living room. Everyone she knew had gone to the hockey game. It was the last one of the regular season, and it would determine White Prairie’s seed in the tournament, but Emmie couldn’t bring herself to go.

  The evening news was about to start when there was a knock at the back door. Tom O’Brien looked at his daughter and hesitated for a second before setting his book down in his lap. “Are you expecting someone, Emmie?”

  She shook her head. Marissa would just be leaving the game, and of course Max would still be at the rink, though she doubted he’d stop by unannounced. He’d called and texted her earlier in the afternoon, and she’d since turned off her phone. He knew she didn’t want to see him.

  For a second, Emmie thought it might be Angie at the door, and although Emmie was eager to see her, to talk to her again and to hear what things were really like, she doubted Angie would come to the house. Frankie and Jimmy wouldn’t come here either—at least while she and her father were so obviously at home. They wouldn’t dare.

  Her father stood up. He had a certain reserved calmness about him. Emmie wondered if that’s where she got it. The more stress she was under, the quieter she became. That’s why Nick trusted her. Up until that fateful getaway drive, he’d called her “unflappable.” Max had noticed it too.

  Emmie stayed on the couch. Her father’s muffled voice floated in through the kitchen. The other voice was male but not recognizable. Mr. O’Brien returned to the living room, and Emmie looked up at him with a questioning glance.

  “It’s for you. It’s a friend of Max’s.”

  Emmie’s eyebrows came together. So now Max was sending his friends over to try to smooth things over? Nice try. She rose from the couch and dragged herself into the kitchen with an air of impatience.

  It was Chris. The nose splint was gone. His broad shoulders were slumped, and his mane of blond hair hung in his face. He shuffled his feet as he stood on the O’Briens’ back step, and the light above the door cast strange shadows across his face.

  “How was the game?” Emmie asked.

  “We won,” he said, but there was no excitement in h
is voice. “Barely.”

  “So you’re first seed?” she asked, trying to puzzle out his anxious expression.

  Chris gave one quick nod.

  “So what’s wrong?” Emmie asked as her brain did a slow shift from irritation to concern.

  “We can’t find Max.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t find him?” Emmie took Chris’s hand and pulled him into the kitchen and out of the cold. They didn’t sit down.

  “He didn’t show up for the game. His parents went home right after the anthem. They called Coach after first period and said he wasn’t at home. He’s not answering his phone. They called the police. I would have called you, but I didn’t know your number. Max pointed out your house once when we drove by. Has he called you?”

  Emmie pulled her phone out of her pocket. She turned it on and groaned at the long list of messages that had piled up. “Yes. A lot. I didn’t want to talk to him.”

  “Why the hell not?” Chris’s voice was rising.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Is this about Katie?” he asked.

  “Of course it’s about Katie.”

  Chris’s hands went into his hair. “There’s nothing going on between Max and Katie.”

  “Ha. You didn’t see them together.”

  “Emmie, come on. We started to play pool, but then Katie walked in. She’d been crying. She said she needed to talk to Max, so Brock and I left to give her some privacy.”

  “That was nice of you,” Emmie said. Chris ignored the sarcasm.

  “She’s been having a hard time since Jade…I thought Max could help her out.”

  “This isn’t helping, Chris.”

  “Listen, Emmie. The way Max told me, one minute she was telling him it was a betrayal for him to be with anyone so soon after Jade died, and the next minute she had her hands all over him…So I guess she meant he shouldn’t be with anyone except for her. But nothing happened.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because Max isn’t interested in Katie. He never has been. And I’ve never seen him so whipped over anyone like he is about you. And that includes Jade. Katie was super-pissed when he took off after you.”

  Emmie didn’t want to admit she’d been wrong, but everything Chris was saying sounded so sincere.

  “Please call him, Emmie. Everyone’s worried. He’ll pick up for you. He’s not picking up for anyone else, and we need to find him before he does something stupid. Tonight is the anniversary of…This is the night Jade died.”

  Emmie inhaled quickly, then let the breath out. She’d had no idea. Is that what he wanted to talk about this morning?

  “I wish I understood why he has to make himself feel so guilty about what happened. It’s terrible, but—”

  “Emmie,” Chris said, his eyebrows raised. “Didn’t Max tell you? He was the one driving the car.”

  Without another word, Emmie pulled out her phone and called Max’s number. He picked up before the second ring.

  “Emmie,” Max said on an exhale. She could hear the tears in his voice and the sound of the wind behind him.

  “Where are you?”

  “Franklin. By the bridge.”

  Emmie covered the phone and whispered the address back to Chris.

  “The accident scene,” Chris said, spinning around, his hands in his hair. “I’ve driven by there twice already.”

  “Max. Max, are you okay?”

  “I’m okay. I don’t know why though.”

  “Stay there. I’m coming. I’ll be right there.”

  “Who’s with you? I don’t want to see anyone. Anyone else, I mean.”

  “Just stay there. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Emmie hung up and ran into the other room. “Dad, Max needs my help.”

  Tom O’Brien set down his book and looked over the top of his glasses at her. “You’re not going out this late alone.”

  “I’m not going to be alone.” Emmie indicated Chris.

  “I don’t like this, Emmie.”

  “Nothing bad will happen, but Max is…Dad, I really need to do this. And then I’ll be home right away.”

  Tom O’Brien glanced at Chris, then back at his daughter. “One hour.”

  “One hour. Okay.” The clock on the cable box said ten fifty-five. Could she be back in only an hour?

  Emmie followed Chris outside but not to his car. Instead she went to her father’s Outback. Chris stopped her before she got in the driver’s seat. “You’re not riding with me?”

  “Max wanted me to come alone.”

  “Emmie, you told your dad—”

  “I told him I wouldn’t be alone. I’m going to be with Max. I’ll call you in a bit. I promise.” Emmie felt a momentary pang of guilt for defying her father, but she knew he’d be okay with it after the fact. She didn’t have time to convince him of that now.

  It started to snow as Emmie pulled out of the neighborhood. First just a few random flakes, and then a steady fall. Big, fat, wet flakes that melted on impact with her windshield but clung to the trees and mailboxes. By the time she got to the bridge twelve minutes later, the scene looked like a picture postcard, except without any of the wish-you-were-here’s.

  Emmie parked her car and ran toward the bridge. Max was standing against the wrought-iron guardrail, his hands wrapped around the railing. He was leaning over, looking down onto the frozen surface of the small river. The sign just beyond him read: Scenic Overlook. It would have been a pretty scene with the snow clinging to the tree branches, but Emmie couldn’t appreciate any of that now.

  As she got closer, she noted a viewing bench and that falling snow had gathered on only half of the seat. There was a large melted spot on the other side where she presumed Max had been sitting for hours. She didn’t want to be here, and more importantly, she didn’t want Max to be here, at the place where his life had changed forever. Max picked up a chunk of ice and threw it hard against a light pole.

  It was bad enough to suffer through the first anniversary of losing someone you loved, but to sit at the same spot and relive it so agonizingly…She didn’t know why Max was putting himself through it again like this.

  Emmie’s boots made a crunching sound in the snow, and Max whirled around, his face going from terror to relief. “You came.”

  Emmie balled her hands into fists and shoved them under her arms, but it was fear, not the weather, that was making her cold. What had he been planning? What would have happened if no one had found him?

  “The question is,” she said, trying to keep her voice controlled, “why hasn’t anyone else? Seems like a pretty obvious spot.”

  Max smiled just a little, seemingly glad that she understood where they were. “Mom and Dad and a few others drove past, but I parked my car somewhere else, and I’ve been sitting back there in the trees.” He indicated toward the pine grove with a turn of his head.

  “Why weren’t you at the game?”

  Max looked up, chagrinned. “Did they win?”

  Emmie gave one nod, and Max let out a long exhale. “Thank God.”

  “So why weren’t you there?” She sat down on the bench, tensing at the coldness of the metal seat.

  “I didn’t trust myself. I was scared of what might happen. One false move, Emmie. I make one false move on the ice, act with my heart instead of my head, and my whole future is over. Or worse, somebody else’s.”

  “Is that what you really think?”

  He shrugged as if it should be obvious.

  “What happened last year?” Emmie asked.

  Max diverted his eyes and clenched his teeth. The muscle in his jaw popped. There was a second when Emmie thought he wouldn’t tell her, but then the words exploded out of him. “Jade and I went to a party last winter. I drove.”

  Emmie pinched her lips together as the cold wind snapped at her face. She understood what he was saying. “So you were drinking.”

  “No!” Max exclaimed, his eyes wide. “No! Not me.”

  Emmie looked at
him with a mixture of surprise, relief, and…confusion.

  “I would have been cut from the team if I’d been caught drinking. God, no. I’ve never risked it during hockey season.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  Max raised his hands in supplication. “I was having a good time at the party. I was playing cards with Chris and some other guys. Jade didn’t know many people. She thought the party was kind of lame. She wanted to leave right away, but I wouldn’t go.”

  “If you didn’t leave, then how—?” Emmie started, but Max kept on talking through her as if he had to get it out. Once and for all.

  “By ten o’clock, she was really pissed at me because she’d been sitting there, bored, for like two hours by that point. I told her I just wanted to finish that one card game, and then we could go…But then I started another one.

  “It didn’t feel like a lot of time was going by to me, but it got late. Jade was yelling at me. I think she even hit me. By the time we left, it was eleven thirty, and she wasn’t talking to me anymore. I remember being glad about that because the silent treatment was better than being yelled at.

  “But as soon as we got in the car, she let me have it. It was a pretty bad fight.”

  Emmie reached out and touched Max’s arm. He inhaled and let it out slowly. His face tensed as the story came to an end.

  “A few minutes after we left the party, we got hit on the passenger side by a lady who ran a red light. She’d been drinking.”

  “Max. I don’t—”

  “Jade wasn’t wearing her seat belt. She was thrown through the windshield. I should have told her to put it on. Maybe…” He broke off, and a sob caught in his throat. Then he uttered a sarcastic-sounding laugh. “I, unfortunately, was totally fine—just cuts and bruises. But I was trapped. The way her head was, the angle it was…There was blood coming out of her ear.”

  “Max, I’m sure you did what you could to—”