An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)

by Sophie Jackson

  Looking down at himself, as though just realizing where he was, he blurted, “I have to go.”

  Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay.”

  Max ran his hand through his hair, his heart pounding furiously with the need to get away, to get back to Preston County, back to Grace. He looked down at the envelopes still in his grasp, knowing that, as easy as it would have been to get the answers he’d thought he needed, they were too late. Silently, he placed them on a table located at the side of the hotel room door.

  “I’ll leave these here,” Max said gently as he pulled out the most recent letter from the back pocket of his jeans and laid it on the top of the rest.

  “Are you sure?” Lizzie asked, although her expression changed imperceptibly into one of understanding.

  “Yeah,” Max answered with a small smile. “I think we’ve said all there is to say.”

  The left side of Lizzie’s mouth lifted in agreement. “She’s a lucky girl, Max.”

  Max startled.

  “Whoever it is that you’re going back to. I’m glad you learned to love again,” she admitted. “You deserve it.”

  Her words squeezed a cold, dark piece of him, resuscitating it, while simultaneously blowing the cobwebs off all the other parts he thought lifeless, the parts he knew wanted Grace, needed Grace, suddenly missed Grace more than he would ever be able to explain.

  Max stepped forward and placed a small kiss on Lizzie’s cheek. “Take care, yeah?” he whispered.

  “I will. You, too.”

  Without another word, Max turned and walked out of the room. The sound of the door shutting behind him echoed down the long corridor like a welcome death knell to all the bullshit that had made Max who he was. He knew that, by walking away, he could finally let go of his past and begin to start living again, and as the distance between he and Lizzie grew, he became more and more determined to have Grace at his side every step of the way.

  Max slammed Carter’s apartment door shut, cell phone in his hand, cursing the fucking thing up and down. He was so involved in his argument with the inanimate piece of shit that he didn’t notice Carter and Riley, standing, looking surprised, as though they’d shot up from their seats on the sofa. Max came to an abrupt halt when he saw them both and glanced around the apartment in confusion. “I thought you went to work?”

  “I went in,” Carter explained, “and then took the rest of the day off in case you needed me. And Riley dropped by—”

  “Because he was freaking out,” Riley interrupted. “And clucking like a mother hen.”

  “I wasn’t freaking,” Carter argued, shooting Riley a narrowed glare. “I was just worried.” Carter looked back over at Max, his expression suggesting he expected to see Max covered in blood and other battle wounds. “So what happened? How did it go?”

  Max blinked and took a deep breath, staring down at his phone. “I have to get a hold of Grace.”

  Carter’s face creased in puzzlement. “Grace?”

  “Grace?” Riley echoed. “Oh! Running girl. Your fuck buddy.”

  Carter elbowed Riley. “Dude!” He turned back to Max. “Why do you need to get a hold of Grace? What about Lizzie? What do you—?”

  “Grace!” Max said loudly, waving his cell as though that would explain everything. “I’ve called her but her phone’s turned off, or she’s blocked me, which is absolutely possible, and I wouldn’t blame her. I’ve called Whiskey’s but Holly won’t tell me anything and Uncle Vince said she left Preston County the day after me, saying something about her photographs. I don’t know where she would have gone other than DC, but what the fuck am I supposed to do—”

  “Max!”

  Max’s mouth shut as the sound of his name rattled around the apartment. Expecting to see Carter looking annoyed, he was surprised as hell to see a wide smile pulling at his friend’s face. Max stepped back nervously. “What?”

  “You want to speak to Grace?” Carter asked, cocking his head to the side. “You need to see her?”

  “Yeah.” Max ran a hand through his hair. “Seeing Lizzie and realizing that I . . . I have to talk to Grace—I just want to explain that I . . . to tell her that—you know, that . . .”

  Carter’s smile grew softer. “That you love her.”

  Max’s eyes snapped to Carter’s, then to Riley’s, and back again, narrowing quickly. He pointed an accusatory finger at the pair of them. “You fuckin’ knew!”

  Riley snickered and Carter barked a laugh. “Of course we fuckin’ knew. I knew the minute I saw the two of you at the damned boardinghouse all puppy-eyed and shit.”

  “And it was pretty obvious the day Tate and I visited,” Riley chimed in, looking pleased as shit.

  “And why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Max asked in disbelief. Carter crossed his arms over his chest. “Would it have made a difference?”

  “Of course!”

  Carter cocked an eyebrow and Riley snorted. All three men knew that answer was utter bullshit.

  Max shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I mean . . . maybe.”

  Carter took a step closer. “You said it yourself. You needed to see Lizzie. I know you, brother. You’ll never be swayed or bullied into anything and you had to come to this realization yourself.”

  Max rubbed his eyes with the pads of his fingers, shuffled to the nearest chair, and dropped into it. “Realization,” he mumbled, dropping his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “Is that what this is?”

  Carter and Riley sat down on the sofa opposite. “You tell me,” Carter uttered. “Do you love her?”

  Max swallowed. Whatever was whirling through him damn sure felt like it. “I think so,” he said quietly.

  It was strange, though. When he’d fallen in love with Lizzie, it was like being hit across the head with a sledgehammer; he’d known it from minute one. This feeling with Grace, however, was more subtle, less obtrusive, less flash-bang, and more like a gentle tingle that covered his entire body and warmed him from the inside out, as though, over time, she’d snuck quietly, carefully, and planted herself into all the dark, barren parts that Max hid for fear of being hurt all over again. It was an altogether satisfying feeling that, until that moment, Max hadn’t realized he’d wanted.

  “I . . . I miss her,” he admitted. “Shit, I can’t stop thinking about her and when Lizzie kissed me all I thought about was Grace and how I wanted it to be her.”

  “What the fuck?” Riley exclaimed at the same time Carter shouted, “Lizzie kissed you?”

  Max groaned, flailing and lifting his arms to the heavens. “Focus, guys. Jesus!”

  Carter held his hands up in an effort to calm himself and Riley, who suddenly looked murderous. “Fine. Fine,” Carter said, rubbing his hands across his head.

  Max sat forward, his hands dropping between his knees. “I just . . . the thing that keeps coming back to me is, what can I really offer her?” He looked up at his friends. “I mean, how do I know if I can even give her what she wants? If I’m still what she wants.” He thought back to the horrible things he’d said to her the day he left and cupped his hands to his face. “Fuck.”

  Carter sat back and cleared his throat. “Tell me somethin’, when you were together, doin’ your thing, did she ever say how she felt or tell you what she wanted?”

  Max smiled toward the floor and nodded. “She said all she wanted to do was love me.”

  Riley shrugged. “Then let her. That’s a gift right there, man.”

  “I want to,” Max agreed. “I do.”

  Carter shifted again, moving closer to the edge of the couch. “I know you think you’ve nothing to offer anyone, Max, but trust me, you do. If this year has proved anything, it’s that you’re a strong son of a bitch who can get through just about anything.”

  Max’s chest warmed. “But a relationship?”

  Carter lifted a shoulder. “Why does it have to be called that? No labels, huh? Just talk to her and see what you both feel. Take it a step at a
time.”

  Max’s stare drifted back to his cell. “I have to find her first.”

  He sat back dejectedly at the same time Riley stood. “Then what the fuck are you still sitting there for?” he asked before slapping Max on the shoulder. “Let’s go get your running girl.”

  That afternoon, Max, Riley, and Carter scoured the phone book and the Internet, trying to track down Grace’s brother’s club. It was the only lead Max had. It took nearly two hours of searching, the name Kai and DC being the only things they had to go on. Once they had four possible addresses, the three of them piled into Riley’s Jeep and headed out. Max had to admit, the whole thing was kind of exciting. The thought of seeing Grace again was as terrifying as it was exhilarating, and Max spent the majority of the car ride going over in his mind just what he intended to say to her.

  The first club they arrived at was boarded up, and had been for a while from the looks of the graffiti sprayed across the brickwork. Determined, they reached the second club by the early evening. Kai’s name on the owner plate was clear above the door of the place, filling Max with a ball of nervous energy so large he all but barged his way in. Nevertheless, all they found was a sassy woman with an incredible Afro and bright red lips behind the bar who, once she’d divulged that Kai was in New York, and upon hearing who it was they were also looking for, told them they had to leave before she had them thrown out by security. That was pretty much all the confirmation Max needed to realize that the woman knew Grace, but what more could he do? Even Riley couldn’t seem to coax anything from her despite his wide smile and charm.

  Undeterred, Max left his cell number and a note to Grace asking her to call along with the silent hope that the woman would pass it on, and tried like hell not to let Carter and Riley see the disappointment that tensed his shoulders and squeezed his heart.

  That had been more than two weeks ago and Max was still no closer to finding Grace. His cell phone stayed infuriatingly quiet. Even though he’d asked his family and friends in Preston County to keep him up to date should Grace return, he’d slowly started to resign himself to the fact that he might never see her again, and that filled him with a profound hopelessness.

  To divert his attention away from the hollow ache that had taken up residency in his chest, Max threw himself back into work, arriving at the shop bright and early every day and staying until late at night. He also decided to move back into his own apartment. He knew Carter stressed about Max being on his own, but truthfully, he needed the space to think and, with the wedding mere weeks away, he knew Carter and Kat didn’t need him under their feet. He attended his meetings and continued his running, all the while wondering what Grace was doing, who she was with, and whether she thought of him at all.

  The only silver lining amid the bullshit was that, since he’d said good-bye to Lizzie, the urge to go out and get high and shitfaced had lessened, changing from an all-out shout to a mere whisper. Max knew he’d done enough damage to let everyone down again with a damn relapse, and when he wasn’t working, running, or attending meetings, Max would recall, unashamedly, the disappointment on Grace’s face when he’d gotten drunk that night at the bar. Right or wrong, that shit always took the potency right out of his cravings.

  It was after a long, hard day at the shop and Max was lounging on his sofa, eating pizza, and watching a shitty horror movie when there was a knock on the door. Curious and not expecting anyone, Max threw the pizza crust into the box and padded through his apartment.

  He peered through the peephole and quickly opened the door. “Hey, man. You okay?”

  Riley smiled. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Come in.” Max stepped to the side, allowing him to enter. As pleasant a surprise as it was to see Riley, it was also unusual. Ordinarily, he would announce his impending arrival with either a phone call or a text. Max had received neither. “Can I get you something? I don’t have alcohol, obviously, but I have juice, water, coffee.”

  Riley shook his head. “No, brother, I’m fine. I won’t stay long.”

  Max frowned. “Sounds ominous.”

  Riley smiled again but this time it fell quickly. He pushed his hands into his pockets while his gaze wandered from the floor to a spot over Max’s shoulder and back again.

  Max took a step closer. “How was your day off? You all right?”

  “I um . . . I have something for you, but I wanted to say a couple of things first.”

  Max nodded slowly. “Okay. Shoot.”

  Riley exhaled heavily. “I know what it’s like,” he murmured toward his shoes.

  “You know what what’s like, man?”

  Riley’s hazel stare found Max. “I know what it’s like to lose the woman you love.”

  Thinking he was joking, the beginning of a laugh and an inappropriate comment pulled at Max’s mouth, but it quickly fizzled out in his throat. From the expression on Riley’s face, he was deadly serious.

  “What? Love? How—you . . . you?” Max wasn’t trying to be purposefully obtuse or mean, but Riley, in the almost ten years of their friendship, had never mentioned loving anything other than cars and one-night stands.

  Riley breathed a despondent laugh. “Yeah, me.” He rubbed a hand across his trimmed beard and sighed. “It’s a long story, one that very few people know about, but . . . yeah.” He shrugged. “I know people think I’m just some knuckleheaded womanizer who doesn’t give a shit, and it’s partly true, but there was a time when I wasn’t, when I did give a shit about . . . someone.”

  Max shook his head. Seeing his friend so solemn, so uncharacteristically serious was more than a little unnerving. “Why . . . how did we not— Why didn’t you say something?”

  Riley gave a wry smile. “And shatter the illusion?” He cleared his throat. “Besides, I’ve no one to blame but myself.” He furrowed his brow. “And it’s ancient history.”

  Max wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth, but he nodded to appease him.

  “To get a second chance like this doesn’t happen for many, Max.”

  “I know.”

  “A guy dropped by the shop yesterday while you were at your meeting with Elliot,” Riley continued. “Dropped off a sweet ’67 Mustang for an oil change. We got to talkin’. Turns out he owns some gallery space uptown. It’s kind of a hobby of his, you know, helping young talent in the area to get noticed.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled flyer. “He invited me to a photography and art show he’s hosting there this weekend and, well, let’s face it, Carter’s ugly ass doesn’t look as good in a suit as you do. So I wondered if you’d be my date.”

  He handed the flyer to Max, who was, despite his confusion, chuckling. He took the flyer sensing that he was missing something. He looked down at it and his mouth dropped open. “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah. I thought that’s what you’d say.”

  Max’s eyes traced Grace’s name across the top of the flyer, alongside a photograph that he recognized from her living room in West Virginia. “Her show,” he whispered. “Dammit, she took all those photos for this show she said she was doing and—I forgot . . . I didn’t even know it was in New York.”

  “She’ll be there,” Riley said cautiously. “This might be the shot you’ve been waiting for.”

  Max stuttered. “I . . . I’m not sure if— Should I?” He wasn’t certain arriving unexpectedly on Grace’s big night was the right thing to do. He had no idea how she’d react.

  Riley reached out and squeezed Max’s shoulder. “I’ll let you decide that.” He patted him and maneuvered around Max to get back to the door. “Let me know what you want to do, okay?”

  Max nodded, still staring at the flyer in his hand. “I will.” He looked up. “Hey, Riley. Thanks, man.”

  Riley nodded. “Sure.”

  “Are you going?” Tate asked before he took a sip of the mango juice Max had poured for him.

  “Of course,” Max replied, sitting down in his usual chair while Tate all but lounged on the so
fa. His T-shirt was faded black across which, in a familiar yellow font, it read, “Jedi on the streets. Sith in the sheets.”

  Max blinked in bewilderment before asking, “You don’t think I should?”

  Tate shook his head. “I’m with Elliot, I absolutely think you should go, but I’m wondering what you think will happen.”

  Max blew a breath between his lips, turning it into a raspberry. “Who knows? All I can do is hope she’ll give me a chance and listen.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “I wouldn’t blame her. I was . . .”

  “A fucking asshole.”

  “Yeah.” Max snorted.

  “But are you a fucking asshole who’s going to hit something hard to ease the pain if she turns you down?” The serious concern in Tate’s voice was punctuated by the way he stared at Max, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Sorry. But I have to ask, buddy.”

  Max licked his lips. “Honestly? I haven’t thought about drink or powder since I saw Lizzie.” He glanced toward the living room window of his apartment and to the clear blue sky beyond it. “It’s like, now that she and I have said good-bye, I can breathe. Like I got closure or something.”

  Tate’s mouth pulled into a knowing smile. “Yeah, man. I hear ya.”

  The two men sat in silence for a moment before Max sat forward, lowering his voice despite the fact that they were alone. “So, will you tell me something about Riley?”

  Tate blinked slowly. “If it’s anything to do with Seb and me putting red juice powder mix in the showerhead before he used it, then I know nothing.”

  Max knew Seb to be the youngest of the Moore brothers. “Red juice mix?”

  “Powder mixed with the water when he turned on the shower.” Tate snickered. “Bathroom looked like that scene in Carrie. Mom nearly shit bricks; he scrubbed himself for damn near a week to get clean. Man, it was awesome.”

  Max rubbed his eyes with the pads of his fingers, tittering. “No, that wasn’t it, but thanks for that visual. I was wondering if you knew who it was that he lost.” Tate appeared perplexed. “A woman,” Max clarified. “When he came over last night, he said something about knowing what it was like to lose the woman he loved.”