“Are you there, Abby?”
“I’m sorry, this is wow, just wow. How is Max?”
“I don’t know, to be honest. He’s quiet, brooding more than usual. Do you have any advice for me?”
“Thank you.” If Abby could see my face right now, my mouth is hanging open. I think, maybe just maybe, Abby and I will be friends despite our rocky beginning. I hear her laughing. “Pick your jaw off the floor. Max has never had anyone care about him like you do. The fact that you’re coming to me screams you’re a keeper to me. Max will get quiet, get into his head, snap at you, and even push you away. Expect it from him, and remember this, this is really important. Don’t take it personally. It’s his way of dealing with things.”
“He already tried to get rid of me, but I wouldn’t let him.” I smile, looking at Max, seeing him get out of the truck as he nods at me. “Thank you for the words of advice. I just need to help him and be there for him. I didn’t know how to do it. How are you feeling?” We talk a few minutes about Jonathan staying with them, and she asks me to keep her posted on Max. I put the phone back into my pocket. I sneak up behind Max and wrap my arms around his waist. “Where do you want to start?” I ask him, scanning the storage unit. There are boxes everywhere, papers are out of some of them like someone beat us to it.
“I think Felicia was here before I got the letter from her,” Max says with no emotion in his voice as he walks away from me to pick up papers. “I should do this by myself. I can call Rob; he doesn’t work that far from here.”
“Max, I’m not leaving. Tell me how you want to do this then I can help?”
“Reagan.”
“Max.” He shakes his head knowing that I won this little battle. We’re going to go through it as much as we can. We get set to start working. I keep glancing up at Max, and he’s picking up papers, skimming them, but I notice that his eyes are blank, no emotion, blinking once in a while; almost like a trance. He’s not present.
Max
I feel her eyes on me. I keep looking at her through the corner of my eyes. Is she looking at me out of pity? Guilt? I’m scanning these papers and everything looks like it’s all legal terms.
“Thank you for being here. I know I’ve been mean.” Reagan shrugs, continuing going through boxes. “Reagan?” She pops her head up from the paper she’s reading.
“Yeah?”
“I love you, you know that, right?” Reagan stands up to walk over to me. She kneels in front of me, grabbing my face with her perfectly manicured fingers so I’m eye to eye with her.
“Max, I know you love me, and I love you. There is no place I would rather be than here with you.” She kisses me with tenderness not one of our usual it’s the end of the world kisses. “You’re not alone.” Reagan whispers.
“I don’t know how to feel or act. I avoided relationships all my life because I didn’t think I deserved love, and now I can’t imagine you not in my life. I read that letter telling me that I was wanted and loved. I spent most of my nights wishing for death because no one would miss me. Now, I just don’t know.”
“It’s a lot to deal with because you’re going to question everything about yourself and your life. Things happen for a reason; we just don’t know what that is most of the time.”
“I’m new to relationships and love, be patient.”
“Max, I want you to do one thing for me; love me like you mean it.”
“Oh, I mean it, and so much more.” I pick her up, and she instinctively wraps her legs around my waist. We kiss like a couple of hormonal teenagers at prom. I need Reagan like I need to breathe. After a few minutes of kissing, we decide to get back to work before it gets too dark to see.
Reagan keeps stopping and showing me pictures of me as a baby. There are pictures of me with my mom and dad. They were hugging and kissing me. I open a box and see my very first drawing that I was talking to Reagan about last night. There are drawings everywhere. “I can’t believe he kept every drawing. I thought he threw them out. Reagan, do you think that I can forgive him?”
“Yes. It’ll take time, but I know you will be able to let go of the hurt, resentment, and fear.”
“Like you have?” I snap at her and instantly regret the words coming out of my life. Reagan’s words to me mean a lot, but if her actions are different then maybe I can believe that I’ll be able to move on from the hurt done by my biological parents. With everything going on, her being here to support me, I can’t keep my emotions in check.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Reagan challenges me, staring at me with hands on her hips.
“Nothing.” I ignore looking into those beautiful eyes that show sadness and tears. I load up the truck with the drawings and some pictures. I’ll come back before I leave to see if I want anything else in here. “Let’s go,” I say and climb into the truck. Reagan gets in and curls up next to her door, crying. I don’t know why I said it or even why I snapped at her. She’s the only one here with me, supporting me and loving me. I fucked up. “Reagan.” I reach for her, and she moves her body even closer to the door. “Don’t. Don’t touch or talk to me.”
“Reagan.”
“Shut the fuck up, Max,” Reagan yells with tears falling down her face. I cringe knowing this is because of me. I’m hurting, so of course, like an idiot, I take it out on the closest person to me.
“I’ll head to the hospital to see my dad to give you some time alone.” I exhale deeply as I sit at the red light, trying to calm my nerves. “I hope you’ll stay with me.” I drop her off at the house, and she never once looks back at me.
Reagan
I walk into Rob and Aaron’s basement apartment and throw myself onto the unmade bed. It smells of sex, sweat, and Max’s Dolce & Gabanna cologne. I cry even harder than I did in the truck.
I need to run, I say to myself. I jump off the bed to rummage through my bag to find my running clothes. Shortly after the shooting, Cash made me start running with him. He told me, “Reggy, this is a great way to get out the frustrations. You run until your legs and lungs hurt so bad that you realize that you’re alive for a purpose, a reason.” Jonathan now runs daily with me after work. After I change into my pink and black running shorts and long-sleeve, black, under armor shirt, I head out. When I first got here, I put in Aaron and Rob’s address so I couldn’t get lost if I roamed by myself. I hit play on my running play list and let Linkin Park’s “Breaking the Habit” ring through my ears as I pound the pavement.
“Like you have.” Max’s words swirl through my head. I keep running and trying to figure out what he meant by that. I’ve let go of the resentment and fear from when Kennedy died, haven’t I? I stop when I start to gasp for air. I look at my phone; I ran five miles and didn’t realize it. My breathing is back under control as I walk back. I call Cash.
“Cash Hawthorne.”
“Cash Hawthorne, you sound so professional.” He lets out one of his loud boisterous laughs. I can’t help but smile with it.
“I’m trying to be all grown up. I’m going to be a dad soon. Are you okay? You sound pretty winded.”
“I’m walking back to the house. I just ran five miles.”
“What happened?” I hear the concern in his voice.
“Cash, I need honesty. Don’t blow smoke up my ass, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Have I dealt with Kennedy’s death?”
“Are you sure you want honesty?”
“Cash!” I say his name loudly, and the other runners look at me. I smile and nod to them. “Yes, I told you that I want honesty.”
“I love you, but you avoid any and all talk about Jason and Kennedy. Jonathan calls me up when he wants to talk about them for fear of hurting you. You closed up your heart so fast.”
“I opened it up for Max, so I can’t be that closed up.”
“Did you really? Reagan, I love you, but you only let Max see what you want him to see. You have a way of saying the words, but feeling them is something different. Nic, Sh
awn, and I are different because we’ve been friends forever, so the feelings are always there. Don, he was just someone so you wouldn’t have been alone. Max, he could be the one, but you’re so afraid to love anyone.” I listen to his words, and I can’t believe that he’s saying these hurtful things, and is he right? It’s funny coming from the man who wanted to Veto my relationship. I’m happy that he sees the error of his ways. We talk a few more minutes about Jonathan then hang up when I get back to the house.
I notice that Max’s truck isn’t there so I have some time alone. I grab a towel to shower. I scrub away the sweat from the run, but my mind keeps wandering to Cash’s words. Why am I like this? I shut the shower off when the water starts to burn my skin where I scrubbed it raw trying to get the voices in my head to shut up. I look around for something to throw on and see Max’s signature black t-shirt laying on the floor. I bring the shirt to my nose and breathe in his scent. I shimmy into the shirt that comes to my knees. I collapse on the bed, squeezing his pillow as I let sleep capture me.
I don’t know how long I was asleep, but I sit up when I hear the door slam. I sit up in fear but relax when I see Max is standing there staring at his feet.
“Max, I—” I say to him, throwing my legs over the bed to apologize to him but what he says next blows me away.
“You talk a good game about loss and healing but you’re living in the past,” Max says, looking at me with sadness in his eyes.
“What are you talking about?”
“Jonathan, Kennedy, your job, and Books a Latte.”
“I’m not following you,” I huff out. I honestly don’t know what he’s saying. It’s like Max is speaking a different language to me.
“You’re paying for two apartments, and when someone wanted to buy your empty business, you refused. Jonathan can’t even talk about his parents.” I open my mouth to interrupt him, but Max gives me a pointed stare letting me know that he isn’t done talking, so I shut it right away. “He’s afraid of talking about them because of you.”
“Oh, you think because you had a few conversations with my nephew that you know everything about me? Well, fuck you, Max. Leave me alone.” This is what Cash told me too. Am I blind to it? I’m more hurt by Max’s words than Cash’s conversation.
“Reagan.” Max walks to me in three long strides. He reaches for me, but I push him away. I start to punch him in the chest with every word.
“You. Don’t. Know. Me,” I yell as the tears fall. “You. Don’t. Know. What. I. Am. Feeling.” I keep punching him in the chest with each word that I yell, and he lets me.
“I do know you. I know what’s it like to avoid emotions, avoid getting close to anyone, and letting anyone in to love,” Max whispers in my ear.
“To hear the gunshots, hear my sister scream, and then watch her take her last breath. It kills me. Why am I alive and not her? Kennedy was to be off that day, but she needed to do that window displays since she was taking off to go with Jonathan’s class for a field trip. She should be here raising her son, not me! I deserve to die.” I let out all of my fears. My legs start to quiver; I can’t feel them and I start to fall down, but Max scoops me up like a feather. I lay my head on his shoulder, crying into the nape of his neck. He sits down on the couch with me still on his lap.
“Shh, let it out. Reagan, you’re are here for Jonathan. What would have happened to him had you, Jason, and Kennedy died that horrible day?” I shrug. I never thought about that question or that scenario.
“I don’t know.” Max rubs my back. “It's not fair. It should have been me.”
“Someone very smart to me told me that everything happens for a reason. You were meant to live. You were meant to be with me.” I slide off Max’s lap and sit in the corner of sectional with my arms wrapped my legs. “You need t—” I cut him off.
“You don't know what I need. Stop acting like you do.”
“You are right; I don't know what you need. You live in this damn bubble, heart so damn guarded that no one knows the true Reagan. You sit here spouting off your advice, acting like you know how people are feeling. I use my past as a reason for a lot of my fuck ups, but you act like it doesn't exist.” Max’s words feel like a punch in the gut. They hurt and leave me breathless.
“I don't act like it doesn't exist. I'm afraid to move on from it, because that means Kennedy is really gone.” I sniffle.
“She is never truly gone. You have her memories, and you have the most important reminder that she existed.” I look at him, confused. “Jonathan,” he whispers. The tears come even harder now. What am I going to do?
Max
Reagan’s crying in the corner of the sofa. She doesn’t want me touching her or holding her. I get up to make her some tea. There is a knock on the door and I see Aaron. Reagan looks up at me with a tear stained face and nose running. She jumps over the back of the couch to make a beeline for the bathroom. I wait to hear the door shut so I know I can open the door.
“Hi, Max. I was wondering if you and Reagan wanted to get dinner with us?”
“Come on in, Aaron. I’m not sure if Reagan is feeling up to it. She’s pretty pissed at me.” Aaron’s mouth forms an O as I hear the bathroom door click. We both turn to see Reagan standing there in my t-shirt and her running shorts. I can’t even tell from her eyes or face that she was crying a few minutes ago.
“Aaron.” Reagan gives him a hug, and on cue, the Reagan I know is back. I let out a frustrated sigh, and Reagan snaps her head to give me a pointed look. “What are you doing here?” Reagan starts to make herself some tea. I notice that her hands are shaking so bad that she is spilling hot water on herself. I make a move to help steady her hands, and she allows me to, but it’s all for show with Aaron being there.
“I want to take you and Max out to dinner with us. Are you in?”
“Of course! I can’t wait to get out of the apartment and get to know you two better. What is the dress for tonight?”
“Why don’t we go to the Rodeo? It’s an awesome place to eat, drink, and line dance.”
“Line dancing? I’ve never been line dancing before. Do I need cowboy boots?” Reagan smiles for the first time in a few hours, and it’s a genuine one. Aaron laughs at her enthusiasm.
“No, flats or heels if you’re good with them, but no boots while you’re learning the dances.” They talk a few minutes, and Aaron leaves but tells us we have thirty minutes to get ready.
“Reagan,” I reach out to hold her hand while we sit at the kitchen table.
“Max, don’t. I’ll put on a good show while we are with your friends tonight, but that doesn’t mean that all is forgiven or we are good. I don’t even want to be in the same room as you right now, so tonight, the couch is your friend. I hope it keeps you warm.”
“You’re being childish.” I get up from the table a little too rough and knock the chair over. “We need to talk about this.”
“Oh, so now you are an expert on fixing my problems when you spent your entire life running from relationships?” Reagan’s voice is full of sarcasm.
“Reagan, I’m no expert, but I do know what it’s like to avoid living because of my emotions.” Reagan keeps opening her mouth to say something. She gets her breathing under control.
“My mom always told us girls, ‘Take time to collect your thoughts, don’t say anything out of anger for fear of not being able to take it back. Once it’s out there, it’s out there,’ so I’m going to have a good time with your friends, pretend to like you, and then come back here to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
“So you don’t love me anymore?” I ask, unsure of the answer. Reagan stops washing the cup of tea; she doesn’t look at me, but stares at her hands.
“Max, I love you. Liking you and loving you are two different things. I can love you and not like you. Right now, I’m choosing not to like you because you said some hurtful things to me.”
“They didn’t come from a malicious place,” I plead with her.
&nb
sp; “I know,” Reagan whispers as she pats my arm before going into the bathroom. I hear the shower running so I know that I’m alone with her words. My head falls back against the black leather couch as I close my eyes. The last two days—I can’t believe it’s only been two days because it feels like so much longer—have really put me on an emotional roller coaster. I’m not use to feeling these feelings, and it scares me. I’ve been guarded for so long, and I feel my walls coming down. I never knew how much of an impact words could have until I saw the look in Reagan’s eyes. I’ve always been honest with people without worrying how people felt, but I’m an idiot.
“Max, wake up.” I hear Reagan’s voice next to my ear. I didn’t realize that I fell asleep. I smile knowing she is close to me.
“I’m awake. How long was I out for?”
“About an hour. I took my time getting ready so you could sleep. You okay? You were mumbling, and your face looked like you tasted a sour lemon.” I pat the seat next to me, and she comes over to sit down. I position myself so I can be looking into her face when I say what I need to say to her.
“Reagan—” I reach out to hold her hand and she doesn’t resist, so I take that as a good sign “—I’m so very sorry for what I said earlier. I meant the words I said, but I regret how they came out of my mouth. I should’ve been nicer.”
“I see,” Reagan says, looking away from me.
“I’m sorry, truly I am. I don’t want any secrets, or to be afraid to speak what’s on our mind. I spent my life feeling like I was unworthy of love. You opened me up to it, plus knowing that my parents loved me makes me want to experience everything with you. I love you, Reagan, and I don’t want to mess up and end us.”
“Max, your words really hurt me.” I start to interrupt her, but she kisses my lips to get me to shut up. “I needed to hear them. I’ve spent the years since Kennedy dying closed off from it all. I let Jonathan feel bad for wanting, no needing to talk about his parents. He went to other people when I’m the one who should have been the one he confides in. It’s going to take some time because I’m living with survivor’s guilt.”
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