“I should have left the party when she asked me to leave. If I had, we wouldn’t have been fighting, and we wouldn’t have been at that intersection when that lady came through. But I didn’t care what Jade wanted to do. I wasn’t thinking about her. I was doing what I wanted, and she’s dead because of it.”
Emmie tightened her fingers around his arm. “You didn’t know. It’s not like you could predict the future.”
Max acted like he didn’t hear her. “That’s why I didn’t trust myself on the ice tonight. I made one false move with Jade, and her future is over. I didn’t want to risk that with somebody else. I couldn’t.”
“You didn’t make a bad move. That lady did. She made the bad choice. You didn’t. You have no guilt in this, Max.”
He nodded, and Emmie recognized the gesture. It was the way she reacted when her dad told her not to feel guilty about testifying against Nick. Her dad would say that Nick had made his own choices. It wasn’t Emmie’s fault he made the wrong ones. But as much as her father said it, it never felt true.
But it was true for Max. She meant what she’d told him, and she knew that her words were true. So could that mean they were true for her too? If Angie’s text was to believed, even Nick was convinced it wasn’t her fault. He was owning his mistakes. He didn’t put the blame on her.
Max pulled out his phone and checked the time. “This time last year, we were just leaving the party. Jade was pissy. She still had a curfew, and we were cutting it close.
“She’d been grounded two weeks earlier because I got her home late. That had sucked for both of us. I didn’t like her dad thinking I was irresponsible. So I was going kind of fast, not so fast that I’d get a ticket, but sometimes I think…if I’d only driven slower, we might not have been in this intersection at the same time as that lady.”
Max checked the time again. It was eleven thirty-nine.
“Jade had Beyoncé blasting on the radio so she wouldn’t have to talk to me anymore. By this time we were still three blocks away…two…”
“Max,” Emmie said. Why was he torturing himself like this? “Don’t do this.”
“One…”
A horn blasted, and their heads jerked up as a pair of headlights swerved into the intersection. Emmie’s shoulders stiffened, and Max threw his body across hers, even though they weren’t near the street. The lights illuminated their bodies for a second before the car fishtailed through the wet snow. Emmie sat rigidly on the bench, watching the car right itself and continue on down the road.
She knew the moment Max’s mind switched from fear to despair. Like a child, he curled his head into her chest, and the arm that he’d thrust out to protect her softened and wrapped around her waist. She held him while his whole body shook, shoulders heaving with silent tears that seemed to go on forever as Max slowly, and very surely, fell to pieces.
“I’m sorry.” The words broke into pieces, too, like shattered glass. The sleeve on his jacket pulled up, revealing the busted wristwatch, the hands permanently stopped at eleven forty. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I ruined everything.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Emmie said. “Chris told me what happened with Katie. You were trying to take care of her, like you’re always trying to take care of everyone. I misunderstood.”
Slowly, Max gathered himself. He sat up and stared straight ahead. He made a big sniff and wiped the back of his hand under his nose.
“I’ve tried to beat the memories into the ground,” he said with a short, humorless laugh. “For the longest time, that was the only way to keep from losing my mind.”
“Max—”
“You’re the only thing keeping me sane, Emmie. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
The air punched out of Emmie’s lungs. As much as her heart swelled at his acknowledgment of their—well, whatever this was between them—she was terrified. Max had bared his soul to her. She wasn’t ready to do the same. And if she couldn’t…What if she never could?
Emmie had tried to tell Marissa, but she hadn’t been ready to handle it all. How would Max react? She could tell he was waiting for her to say something. Varying expressions of gratitude, hope, and curiosity played across his face. The possibilities between them flickered like a candle struggling against the wind.
“We’re all dabbling in insanity,” Emmie said, trying to lighten the mood. It was a self-defense mechanism of the highest order. “And trust me when I say that I’m a bigger mess than you.”
Max sighed dramatically. He seemed to understand the play she was making. He’d probably mastered the game himself over the last year. So he followed suit. “I don’t know about bigger, but I’ve always known you were messy.”
Emmie rolled her eyes and started to move away. “Shut up, Shepherd.”
“Make me,” he said, grabbing her hand. She looked down at their fingers, woven together, then up to his mouth. There were still a few tears at the corners of his eyes. He smiled and started to say something more, but Emmie silenced him with a kiss.
CHAPTER THIRTY
HOW LONG NORMAL
MONDAY
“Good morning, Dad.”
Emmie’s father looked up at her from his laptop, and his eyebrows came together with a lack of recognition, as if she were some exotic animal he’d never seen before. Maybe it was the unfamiliar bounce in her step.
With the new intimacy between her and Max, Emmie felt tall for the first time in her life. Weightless. A little swimmy in the head, even. She liked it.
“Who are yeh, and what have you done with my daughter?”
Emmie liked it when her father joked around, but she couldn’t help but notice the same nervousness at the corners of his eyes that she’d seen on Friday night. He was wearing a suit, which meant it was a court day for him, but she hadn’t seen him buried in paperwork like he normally was when he was in trial. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course, love. Everything’s fine.” He picked up the gallon of milk from the counter and turned his back on his daughter.
“Why don’t I believe you?” she asked, following behind him.
He shrugged. “Either because you’re not trusting, or I haven’t proven myself to be trustworthy.” Her father was sometimes very literal about things.
“Or because you put the milk in the pantry,” Emmie suggested, grabbing the carton off the cereal shelf. She returned it to the fridge.
“Wow,” he said, slipping his hand behind his neck.
“Something’s on your mind,” Emmie said with confidence. She and her father had finally found their groove. They understood each other, and they had figured out how to live together too.
He gave her a weak smile. “Yes, but it’s nothing you need to worry about, Ems.”
Emmie narrowed her eyes. “Which makes me worry even more.”
Her father worked harder, stretching his mouth into a grin. “Seriously, love. Don’t you have a boy band to fawn over or something? Be a normal kid for five minutes, and leave the adult stuff to the adults.”
“Now that you mention it, I was thinking about getting Harry Styles tattooed on my butt.”
“Who?”
Emmie sighed and glanced out the window. Max’s jeep was pulling into the driveway. “Never mind. Max is here.”
“I like that kid.”
“Yeah, me too,” she said.
“Why don’t you get his face tattooed on your arse?”
“God, Dad.”
“Okay, fine, but you should invite him over for dinner sometime soon. I’d like to get to know him.”
Emmie thought that sounded like torture, and she told him so.
“Torture for you?” her dad asked.
Emmie slung her backpack over her shoulder and started for the door. “For everyone involved.”
“We could do fondue,” he said. “It’s a meal and an activity. Keeps everyone’s hands busy so we don’t have to talk as much.”
Emmie wrapped her arms around her father’s neck a
nd kissed his cheek. “Love you, Dad. Thanks for everything.”
“Anything for you, love. Anything.”
“Have a good day in court.” With those words, the tension returned to his face, but he managed a thanks, then she was out the door.
Emmie felt Max’s eyes on her as she skipped down the back steps and walked quickly to his jeep. She hopped up into the passenger seat and knocked the snow off her shoes before closing the door. “Wow, it’s cold out today.”
He leaned over and kissed her, slipping one hand behind her neck. Be still my heart, Emmie thought, suddenly feeling plenty warm. When he pulled away, she glanced up toward the kitchen window to see if her father was watching. She couldn’t tell. All she saw was the reflection of trees.
“My dad wants to have you over for dinner.”
“Sounds good.”
“It does?”
Max looked over at her as if he’d missed some critical part of the conversation. “Doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” Emmie said with a shrug.
“I told my parents about you last night,” Max said.
“You did?” Emmie hoped he’d found something good to tell them and that he’d been smart enough to keep the work crew details to himself. Juvenile records didn’t exactly make parents all warm and fuzzy.
“They were freaking out by the time I got home. I think they thought I’d gone and offed myself.”
Emmie didn’t mention that the thought had crossed her and Chris’s minds as well.
“I told them what happened, and how you’d found me. My mom thinks you’re some kind of angel.”
Emmie made a scoffing noise and turned her head to watch the little kids playing in the snow at their bus stops.
“I didn’t do anything to correct her,” Max said. “I think she pretty much nailed it.”
That morning, and for the very first time, Max and Emmie walked into the school together. Holding hands. A few people turned to look, but mostly people seemed worried about themselves—what they had to do, and where they needed to be. It all felt so normal, and Emmie wondered how long normal would last. Could last.
Max talked in terms of needing her, but was that just to get himself through the hockey season? A part of her knew that it was unfair of her to think so poorly of him, but no matter how often Max told her that he cared about her, it wasn’t like he loved her or anything. Not that she needed him to say it. In fact, the words meant nothing.
Come on, don’t you love me, Pigeon? You know how much I love you.
I don’t love that you call me that.
What? Pigeon? Aw, baby, it’s cute. You’re cute. I notice your mom’s looking kinda strung out. What you planning to do about that? ’Cause I got some ideas if you want to get creative.
When Max and Emmie reached her locker, Emmie spotted Katie talking to Lauren Schafer and Elizabeth Wannamaker. Lauren touched Katie’s arm and indicated with her head in Max’s direction. Katie came right for them. Oh crap. What now?
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Katie asked Max.
“Anything you need to say to me you can say in front of Emmie.”
Katie glanced at Emmie and bit her lip. “Okay, I probably should say this to both of you anyway. I’m sorry about the other night. I wasn’t thinking. Clearly.” She bowed her head, and color washed into her cheeks. “Anyway. I’m super-embarrassed about it, and I’m sorry if I made any trouble between you. I’m glad to see you together.”
Clearly this was more bullshit. Emmie could buy Katie’s apology, but the part about her being glad to see them together? Doubtful. Emmie didn’t have the patience for such blatant lies. She would have respected Katie a lot more if she’d just said, “I hate that Max is into you, but whatever.” Emmie glanced up at Max, ready to take his lead.
Max—whose apparent ability to forgive was what eye rolls were designed for—put his hand on Katie’s shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. Then he let go. “It was a rough weekend. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
Katie gave Emmie another look of apology, then turned to go back to her friends.
“She’s not all bad,” Max said.
“I never said she was.” Emmie turned and worked her locker combination. “I was pissed at you, not her.”
“None of the hockey girls are that bad. They’re only a little—”
“Exclusive? Territorial?”
“Yeah. That. But if you spent that much time on the ice for so many years with the same people, it kind of happens naturally. It’s not a conscious choice.”
Emmie shrugged. Some prejudices were harder to shake than others. She was as guilty of that as anyone else.
She squirmed all through history and chemistry without Max, though he sent her a few texts and pictures of himself in his classes: Max feigning sleep. Max with pencil-walrus fangs. A picture of a detention slip for texting in class. Emmie slapped her hand over her mouth before she laughed out loud.
As they passed each other in Mr. Beck’s doorway, Max let his body brush against hers in such an intentional way that it sent shock waves through her veins and brought a rush of heat to her chest.
“You’ve got a problem with personal space,” she said, teasing.
“Big guy,” he said, “tight doorway.”
At lunch, Max sat at Emmie’s table, earning a smug smile from Marissa. Before they were done eating, Emmie got a text from her father: I want you to come home after school. Immediately. She showed it to Max.
“Are you in trouble?” he asked.
“Sounds like it, but I have no idea what for.”
Max’s forehead furrowed. “Is it about Friday night? Did you leave to find me without telling him?”
“No,” Emmie said, shaking her head. She had no basis for understanding the message. “I told him I was going, and I was home when I said I’d be.” She texted back a quick Why?
“I can’t give you a ride,” Max said. “I’ve got a thirty-minute detention to do for those texts I sent you during class.”
“Yeah. Hey, Marissa?” Emmie asked. “Can you give me a ride home today?”
Marissa shook her head while she swallowed a mouthful of tater tot hot dish. “Can’t. I got science club.”
“Sorry,” Sarah added. “I’ve got a dentist appointment after school.”
“I can give you a ride,” said an unexpected female voice.
Emmie looked up at Katie, who’d stopped behind Emmie’s seat on her way to return her tray.
“You can?” Emmie asked.
Katie gave a little one-shouldered shrug. “Sure. Why not?”
Emmie glanced at Max, then back up at Katie, whose eyes were trained on Max. “Okay, sure. I’ll meet you by the front doors.”
“’Kay,” Katie said without any more fanfare, and then she walked away.
“Weird,” Marissa said.
“Totally,” Emmie said with a groan. “This is going to be all kinds of awkward. Why didn’t I say ‘no thank you’?”
Max stabbed a tot with his fork and made a swirling gesture at Emmie with it. “Have you ever wondered if you’re just an extremely bad judge of character?”
“Are you serious?” Had he completely forgotten about Elizabeth’s party?
“Yeah, I’m serious. Katie might be…”
“Delusional?” Sarah offered.
“Pushy?” Olivia added.
“Man stealing?” Marissa suggested.
Max shook his head and fought back a grin. “Yeah. All that. But she’s not the Antichrist. At first, you thought hockey guys were total douche canoes, and now look at me.”
“You can be a total douche canoe,” Emmie said. He really did have short-term memory loss. Maybe he’d been slammed up against the boards one too many times.
“I’m just saying, it was nice of her to offer you a ride. It’s her way of following through on her apology. Give her a chance.”
Marissa raised her eyebrows in a way that said, We’ll see about that. Th
ey were probably both right.
As it turned out, Katie was a no-show after school. Emmie didn’t take time to find out whether it was intentional or if Katie had innocently forgotten. Instead, she ended up bumming a ride from Jerry Moffet, whom she’d probably said fewer than ten words to in the past, but he lived on her street. When she got home, her father was in the driveway waiting for her.
“Who was that?” he asked as if she’d just gotten out of Charles Manson’s car.
“Jerry. He lives down the street.”
“What happened to Max?” Her father pulled her inside the house and closed the door, locking it. The kitchen smelled like butter and onions. “I thought he was giving you a ride home.”
“He stayed after school to do some…extra credit,” Emmie said, thinking that a little white lie never killed anyone. She kicked off her boots, and the snow immediately started to melt on the kitchen floor.
“Well, next time, call me. I don’t want you getting rides home from strangers.”
“Dad. Jerry’s not exactly a stranger, but what’s with all the high alert?”
“Nothing. I rented a movie for us tonight.” He walked to the stove and gave whatever concoction was on the stove a couple brisk stirs. “You like John Hughes movies, right?”
“But I was going to do homework with Marissa.”
“We’re staying in tonight.”
“But—”
Her father looked up from the soup pot to his daughter. For a second, she thought he was going to give in, but then he said, “That’s the end of this conversation.”
“Because I got a ride with Jerry Moffet?” Emmie hated how whiny she sounded, but come on. Really?
“No,” her father said with a sad smile. “Not because of Jerry. Because I love you.”
It didn’t make any sense, but Emmie couldn’t argue when he put it like that.
“So I’m not grounded?”
“Should you be?”
“No.”
“Can I still go out with Max tomorrow night? We were going to hang out after school, then go out to dinner. It’s kind of our first official date.”
“You went to the dance with him.”
“I went to the dance with Marissa. I just met him there. Tomorrow was going to be kind of special.”
Cold Hard Truth Page 21