Max (A Carter Brother series Book 4)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  All that ran through my head was, ‘They never gave up on me’. Not once. It broke my heart knowing they lived life expecting me to return at any second but each day passed with no word from me. It was just another hard reminder of how badly I’ve messed up.

  This past year I’ve spent every day wishing I could change that tragic night. I prayed that I could save Cowen, bring him back to life and that life would go back to how it was supposed to be. The guilt over that night ate away at me until there was nothing left of me.

  Then I met Joan. She was so kind, so gentle, and never pushed me. She breathed a little light into my life, showed me a world where people were worse off than me. It gave me a reason to live again. If I couldn’t make my own life better then the least I could do was try to help other people make their lives better.

  But then Max happened and I wasn’t prepared for him. I never expected he would be the one to breathe the life back into me. He brought me to want to live again, to love again, and by God, I love him. I love him so much that the pain from him not being in my life has left a hole in my heart and it’s slowly killing me inside and out.

  A knock on my bedroom door shakes me out of my thoughts. Quickly, I sit up, leaning back against my cushions before wiping at my tears furiously. I don’t want my mum or dad to walk in and see the mess I’m in and think I don’t want to be here. I’m trying so hard to not show how badly I’m missing Max, missing Joan and the rest of them, but it’s so hard when it’s breaking my heart. They all became such a huge part in my life that not having them around anymore is making me feel lost. It’s tearing me apart inside because it’s the same feeling I had when I ran away.

  It’s like I’m being pulled in two different directions. One part of me wants to be back home with Max, with Joan, but the other is hanging on tight to stay with her parents, with her brother.

  “Come in,’’ I call out, my voice hoarse.

  My door opens revealing an apprehensive looking Marybeth. I’m actually surprised it’s her and not my mum or Cowen. They’ve done nothing but smother me, asking if I’m okay every five minutes. I’m glad my dad gives me a wide berth but I think he’s only doing that because he knows I need some space.

  “Hey, can I come in for a little bit?’’ she asks quietly, looking unsure.

  “Sure! Sure!’’ I tell her, gesturing to the end of the bed for her to take a seat.

  “Are you doing okay? I heard you crying when I went to bed last night,’’ she admits, watching me with a deep expression.

  “Yeah,’’ I nod, not meeting her eyes. When she doesn’t say anything I look up. She’s looking at me with a soft expression, one that says she doesn’t believe me. “I miss them,’’ I blurt out, feeling guiltier now I’ve said it out loud. My parents are going to think I don’t love them.

  “You’re bound to. I don’t know much about them or how you all met, but from what I saw and heard from my time there I could tell how much you meant to them and how much they meant to you. They were your family so of course you’ll miss them.’’

  My eyes water despite my protests. “It’s not just that they were family. We were all so close. But it was more. I miss them all so much already and I’ve been gone a day. It feels like I’m losing my family all over again,’’ I sob, clutching my chest. “I feel like I’m betraying my own family somehow. It hurts. It hurts so much.’’

  Marybeth rushes to sit down next to me, rubbing my shoulder soothingly.

  “It’s all going to be fine, Lake. You’ll be able to see them soon,’’ she assures me.

  “It won’t be the same, though. I’ll be visiting my cat that’s not really my cat anymore. It’s all messed up. I’m so happy about having my parents and Cowen back in my life, so fucking happy. I wished for this moment every day but now it’s here I feel like I’m losing more. And I feel guilty for feeling like this. After everything I’ve put them through they don’t deserve this,’’ I cry into my hands, feeling it harder now I’ve said the words out loud.

  “What do you mean? You feel guilty about your parents or for leaving?’’

  “Both. I promised Max I wouldn’t leave but I’ve left. Then there’s Mum and Dad. I put them through so much, through hell. They’re so happy I’m back and all I can do is feel miserable over being here because it means I leave another family. I’m torn in two. But I know I can’t have both. And they’re my parents and brother. How can I leave them again?’’

  “I think your mum and dad understand if you want to go back. They just want you to be happy,” she tells me, trying to make me better but it just makes me worse because the thought of leaving them kills me just as bad.

  “And what if I’m not happy with either? Because no matter what I do I’ll still feel broken. How can I put them through that?’’ I sob. “I don’t want them to think I don’t love them because I do, I love them so much.’’

  “They know you love them, they love you too,’’ she tells me, bringing me in for a hug. Having her comfort me when I don’t deserve it just makes me sob harder into her chest. The sound of a floorboard creaking has me snapping my head up, pulling back from Marybeth and wiping away my tears.

  Marybeth and I look to each other with wide eyes before turning to the bedroom door. When I see the door isn’t shut properly and is open a few inches, I begin to panic.

  “Oh my God,’’ I whisper, horrified. “Did someone hear us talking?’’

  The thought has my heart beating wildly and I watch as Marybeth gets up, walking quietly but quickly over to the door.

  She looks down the hallway, both ways, before turning back to me. “No one’s out there.’’

  I sag against my pillows in relief. The last thing I want is to hurt my parents anymore than I already have. I rub my eyes feeling emotionally tired.

  “I’ll let you get some rest. Do you want me to bring you up some breakfast?’’

  The thought of food makes my stomach roll. I shake my head, ‘no’. “Thank you for asking me, though, and for letting me cry on your shoulder,’’ I smile.

  “I’m always here if you ever need to talk to someone,’’ she genuinely offers. She turns to leave but I call her name, stopping her before she leaves.

  “Please don’t mention our conversation to anyone,’’ I plead.

  “I won’t, I promise,’’ she assures me and with that, she leaves, shutting the door behind her. I fall back on my bed, closing my eyes and falling back to sleep.

  *** *** *** *** ***

  It’s a week after my talk with Marybeth and I still don’t feel any different. I thought if I ignored my feelings they’d disappear and everything would be okay but, as the week passed, my feelings only became stronger.

  It started the day after mine and Marybeth’s chat. I hadn’t slept well and needed to get out and get some fresh air.

  My walk led me down some familiar streets all the way to Emma’s, my best friend’s, house. To my utter surprise and complete devastation her mum wasn’t as happy to have me back as everyone else. She ended up slamming the door in my face after giving me a few choice words.

  I ended up taking the long way back home, the whole way a complete blur. I’d been so lost in thought I didn’t even realise how much time had gone by. By the time I got back Mum and Dad were in the kitchen looking frantic and talking a mile a minute on their phones. They took one look at me when I walked in and ceased what they were doing, their bodies relaxing.

  After that they sat me down and explained everything about Emma’s mum’s reaction. Turns out she blames me and Cowen for her daughter’s attack, adding to my guilt pile. It’s a reason why she wouldn’t let me see Emma. She also thinks Cowen had something to do with Emma’s sister’s death, but he didn’t. I didn’t need my parents to confirm that to know.

  Missing back home became worse after that. I had Joan, the girls, and the lads to talk to, to hang out with. I moaned non-stop about never getting any peace whilst I was there but all I wanted was for one of them to walk into
my room.

  It didn’t happen and with each day I became a shell of myself. I’d cry myself to sleep, miss everyone like crazy and walk around like a robot, trying to find where I fit in with their lives now.

  Then yesterday I finally charged my phone, texting the number I had for Emma to see if it was still in service. It wasn’t.

  So then I emailed her yesterday, hoping she kept her email address, and fortunately for me she had kept the same address. I wrote her a lengthy email, unsure whether it was just her mum who disliked me or Emma too. I wish I had done it sooner. If I had known she was attacked I know for a fact I would have. But back then, with the loss of Cowen, my thoughts never even strayed away from him long enough to think about anyone else. Selfish? Yes. But I was a mess at the time and all I could think of was him and what I’d done. Not even my parents factored into the equation. It just made me feel like a shittier person.

  She didn’t email me back until late last night, arranging for us to meet up this morning. It’s why I’ve only just gotten in, bypassing my parents on the way to my room, my emotions all over the place.

  “I’ll warm dinner up later,’’ I shout down the stairs, not waiting to listen to Mum’s reply as I hide out in my room.

  Falling down face first on to my bed, I sob. I sob for my best friend, for the life I’ve missed and for missing my life back in Coldenshire.

  Emma isn’t the girl I remembered. She looked so different, her face gaunt and shrunken. She had lost her luscious curves, her tanned skin was so pale and she was a shell of the girl I once knew. It saddened me to no end knowing what she suffered through. I let her down. Big time. It’s something I’ve been doing a lot lately.

  We didn’t talk about anything too heavy, but we did talk. At first it was about where I went when I ran away, what the people were like where I went. I told her about Coldenshire and living with Joan and her family. It was hard talking about them so soon. My parents and Cowen had taken the hint that any conversations about them are off limits. Only until I was stronger at least. It just feels wrong moving on like the past year didn’t happen, that Max didn’t happen. It was hard bringing them up.

  We also spoke about her future, what she was planning on doing next. Dodging what happened to Emma was hard but I tried. But then she brought it up herself, making sure I knew she didn’t blame me or Cowen and that Darren was to blame for it all.

  The second she uttered his name her face drained from what little colour she had. I quickly changed the subject, not wanting to upset her.

  We spoke about her plans to move. She wanted to get out of this town, out from under her parents and from everything this town reminds her of. She explained she has her college arranging to transfer her grades to another college a few miles away. I was surprised to find it wasn’t that far from Coldenshire and would be the same one Myles is attending. She was just waiting to hear back before she approached her parents.

  All of it exhausted me. We cried, laughed, cried, hugged and cried some more. It’s the reason I avoided my parents when I came up. They knew where I was because I left a message on the fridge before I left. I swear, having someone to answer to has been the hardest transition. I’ve spent a year only answering to myself. It’s strange having that parental guidance.

  The door to my room opens, shaking me from my thoughts. Cowen walks in not bothering to knock as usual.

  “Dude, I could have been naked,’’ I tell him dryly, rolling over on my back, resting my head on my pillow.

  “I don’t care. I miss my friends,’’ he tells me sadly. It seems I’m not the only one missing Max and everyone. Cowen has taken it hard too and he only knew them for a few days. It’s sweet really. “And you miss my friends,’’ he nods, lying down beside me on the bed.

  “Doesn’t matter,’’ I shrug, acting like it doesn’t affect me when inside it’s ripping me to shreds.

  “It doesn’t?’’ he asks, seeming to really want to know and looking a little upset that it doesn’t. I don’t answer, not knowing how to answer without upsetting someone. He must feel the turmoil going on inside my head because his hand reaches out for mine, holding it tightly as a tear escapes, rolling down the side of my face. “How’s Emma?’’

  “Different,’’ I whisper, sad for my best friend. She has a long way to go before she finally moves on. It’s hard to know what it is exactly holding her back. It seemed her parents are a big issue for her. “We talked a lot. She doesn’t blame us, not like her mum. She said her mum is just being overprotective.’’

  “I blame me,’’ Cowen admits, a sadness I’ve not heard from him yet creeping into his tone.

  “No! No, Cowen. It’s Darren that attacked her, not you. Don’t you dare put that blame on your shoulders,’’ I tell him sternly, giving him a warning look. He has enough to deal with.

  “But I got drugs.’’

  “Yeah, but did you sell them? Did you force them on anyone? Did you keep selling them when you knew they weren’t legit?’’

  “No. No. Just buy. Not sell. Promise.’’

  “Well, then,’’ I tell him like that’s the answer. “She’s talking about leaving, wanting to start fresh at a new college,’’ I tell him, hoping it doesn’t get back to her mum. She said she hadn’t spoken to her about it. She’s waiting for the go ahead from the colleges before she brings it up with them. She doesn’t want them to talk her out of it.

  “Marybeth told me she done a little better now,’’ he says sadly.

  “I didn’t see her before, when it happened, but I can only imagine how bad it was if today was any indication to go by. She looked so ill. She didn’t look like Emma whatsoever. It was sad. Really sad,’’ I admit, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

  “She’s strong. Always… Always… Always will be,’’ he struggles to get out.

  “Yeah,’’ I whisper, knowing my friend really is strong. She’s the strongest person I know. Stronger than me. I ran away from my problems, she stayed and fought. We both stay silent, lost in each other’s thoughts, when I broach the subject I’m most concerned over. “Are Mum and Dad mad at me?’’ I ask, thinking how I went out without telling them where I was going or who I was with, just that I was out. Then there’s the whole ignoring them when I walked in earlier.

  “No. But they have secrets hiding,’’ he whispers conspicuously.

  Leaning up on my elbows I look over to him to find he’s deadly serious. Why would they be keeping secrets?

  “What do you mean? What secrets?’’ I ask, feeling kind of panicked all of a sudden. I mean, it’s not like them to keep secrets from either Cowen or me, but it could be another thing that has changed over the past year. They’ve always been upfront about everything going on in their lives and have raised us to be the same.

  Like the time sex first got brought up when I was with Darren. I went straight to my mum, asking for advice. It’s not like she could get mad. She had always said to go to them with anything, no matter what it was and that they’d never get angry with us as long as we told the truth.

  I clear my head and eye Cowen when he stays quiet. He rolls his eyes, his expression of one annoyed.

  Great! Now I’m annoying my brother. What else can I do wrong?

  “Duh! That’s why it’s called a…a, it’s called a secret. And I’m the one supposed to be… to be… dump…no…brain dumb…damaged.’’

  I smack his shoulder, not impressed with his attempt at joking. “But how do you know?’’

  “I heard them talking, whispering. Mum was crying. But she nodded her head,’’ he shrugs. “Oh, but she smiled when she wrote on paper.’’

  Flopping back down on the bed, I begin to conjure up a million and one possibilities of what’s going on. They have been acting strange since I returned, always seeming on edge and I have to admit, now Cowen has brought it up, I swear they were whispering the other night before I walked in and interrupted.

  My thoughts have me wondering if I’m the reason they’re so sad. A
m I making them unhappy? Should I leave again? My eyes water with every passing thought, frustrating the hell out of me.

  A small knock on the door causes me to jump. I’m so used to Cowen barging in that when the door does bloody knock it scares the shit out of me.

  “Lake, sweetie, can I come in? I’d like to talk to you,’’ Mum calls through the door.

  “Yeah, come in,’’ I rush out, sitting up in my bed and straightening my wrinkled clothing nervously. Then I realise how ridiculous I’m being and I inwardly roll my eyes.

  Cowen sits up too, looking wide eyed at the door like he wasn’t expecting Mum to turn up at my door. Mum notices him the second she walks in and gives him a pointed look.

  The poor lad has gone awfully pale. I actually feel kind of sorry for him, especially with the annoyed expression Mum is pointing his way.

  “I thought you were too sick to eat dinner, mister?’’

  “I am,’’ he coughs, blatantly faking. “Okayyy,’’ he whines. “I’ll go eat dinner.’’

  Getting up from the bed, making as much fuss and noise as possible, Cowen finally stomps his way to the door. While Mum keeps her attention on me I keep my eyes on Cowen, my lips twitching at his juvenile behaviour. He stops once he gets to the door and turns, sticking his tongue out behind Mum’s back.

  “I’ll cut that out,’’ Mum sings, causing me to giggle. I swear the woman has eyes at the back of her head. She’s always been like this. No matter what we were doing she’d know like she could sense we were up to no good.

  “Dad,’’ Cowen shouts, stepping out of the room. “Mum’s going to… She said she’s going to cut my tongue out.’’

  There’s a moment of silence before Dad’s voice booms up the stairs. “You should keep it in your mouth then, boy.’’

  “No! Marybeth likes my tongue…’’ Cowen starts as he walks away.

  Completely grossed out, I cover my ears. “La la la la la la.’’

  “Cowen,’’ Mum gasps turning towards the door.

  “Cowen,’’ Marybeth’s unamused voice calls from downstairs and Cowen’s head snaps back to mine, wide and scared. He’s down the hall now but even from my bedroom I can see the regretful look on his expression.