Make It Right

by Megan Erickson

  Nick’s opened his mouth, but Trish knocked his knee with hers, so he rolled his eyes and took another bite of pizza.

  But as they talked about classes and Nick imitated his professor’s deep tenor, all Lea could think about was that hopeful glint she’d seen in Max’s eyes for that brief moment.

  No matter how much she tried to deny it to herself, she wanted to see it again.

  Chapter 2

  THE CAT WAS back.

  Its left ear was shredded but healed, and that scar on its chin a hairless C amid the black fur.

  It was limping and Max could see a dark, wet spot on its haunch. Small red footprints marked its path leading to Max’s back door.

  He crouched down and held a hand out. “If you could talk, bet you’d say, ‘you should see the other guy.’ ”

  The cat sat down ten feet away and licked its black lips as if in an affirmative answer.

  “I bet you got some good licks in, huh?” He said, reaching behind him for the can of tuna he’d opened when he saw the cat through the window of his college town house.

  The cat didn’t move, just studied him, yellow eyes glowing in the setting sun. From what Max knew of cats—which was limited since his dad threatened to shoot any potential feline pet when Max had been a kid—the cat must be hurting to let the injury sit without cleaning it thoroughly. So he quit the small talk, scooped out the tuna onto a small plate and shoved it toward the cat.

  Then he waited. And the cat didn’t move.

  This wasn’t their normal routine. Max always left immediately after supplying the food, like he was the cat’s dirty secret and if its big cat-gang buddies found out it had a human on the side, it’d be laughed out of the alley.

  But he didn’t like the way the cat was favoring its leg. He had a massive hangover from the night before. And he was tired of being a dirty secret.

  Next he grabbed a plastic bowl of water and shoved that alongside the food.

  Then he waited. And still the cat didn’t move.

  “Come on, buddy,” he whispered, hearing the concern in his voice. “I’m your friend.”

  The cat’s yellow eyes never left Max as it dipped its head and slowly crept forward, body tense, clearly fighting the flight instinct.

  Max didn’t move.

  The cat reached the plate of food and crouched, then scarfed up bits of tuna in between glances at Max. Max ran his eyes over the sleek, battered body and sighed. He didn’t know if the cat was male or female. But it seemed like a big tomcat, so Max guessed it was a he. He didn’t necessarily want to get closer to find out if he was wrong.

  When the cat ate all the tuna, he gave Max a long look before lapping at the water.

  He was close, only about two feet away, and if Max just stretched out his arm . . .

  The screen door banged open behind him and the cat took off like a shot, bounding down the alley and disappearing through a hole in the neighbor’s shrubs.

  “Dammit!” Max swore, jumping up from his crouched position and whirling to face whoever interrupted the moment. “Could you be any fucking louder—”

  Lea stared at him, an empty water bottle dangling from her fingers. She dropped it in the recycling bin and wiped her hands. “Didn’t want to litter in your house.”

  He winced. He should apologize for swearing at her, but the words stuck in his throat. His head pounded, reminding him how he’d drunk too much last night. And hadn’t he made some shitty remarks to her and that blond guy . . . ?

  Lea cocked a hip. “What are you doing out here anyway?” Her eyes landed on the empty plate of food and bowl of water, then roamed past his shoulder.

  The scrutiny unsettled him. Made him cranky. Okay, crankier.

  It must have shown on his face, because Lea’s pixie features hardened into an indifferent mask. He waited for her to leave so he could clean up after his cat—shit, his cat—and get to class.

  She crossed her slender arms over her chest. “It takes time, you know?”

  “What’re you talking about?” he snapped.

  Lea didn’t flinch. She nodded toward the cat’s dinner area. “Cats. Takes a long time for them to trust. And sometimes feral cats never trust humans.”

  Who died and made her an expert? He’d get that cat to trust him if it killed him. “Well thanks, Miss Veterinarian. Didn’t know you were studying that on top of your Shakespeare and Dickens.”

  She dropped her hands at her sides, fingers curled into little fists. “Why do you always act like this?”

  He didn’t know. If he did, he wouldn’t do it. But with her, the words he wanted to say never came out. Instead, all he was able to do was snark and snap. “Why are you still bugging me?” he shot back.

  Those liquid brown eyes fired. “Grow up, Max.” Then she turned around and walked back into the house, her limp more pronounced then he’d ever seen it.

  He didn’t watch the way her ass looked in her tight jeans. Or how her hair shone in the sun. The sight of her eyes—so alive and challenging, calling him on his bullshit—didn’t linger in his mind.

  His phone rang in his jacket pocket and he pulled it out, eyes still scanning the road to see if the cat came back. He glanced at the caller ID and sighed. “Yo.”

  “Max,” Calvin’s voice grunted in his ear.

  “Who else would it be? You called me.”

  His oldest brother ignored the question. “Friday afternoon, you don’t have class, right?”

  As a senior, he’d had his pick of classes, so he’d made sure to keep his Fridays open. That was his day. A day for himself. One where he didn’t have to attend class in a major he hated or work in his dad’s automotive shop, doing work he hated. A constant reminder he was about to be stuck doing that same work he hated for the rest of his life. Unless he crawled out from under Jack Payton’s steel-toe boots. Which he didn’t see happening.

  “You know I don’t,” was all he said.

  Another voice murmured over the line and Max recognized Brent’s voice—the middle brother. “That’s what I’m doing right now, assface,” Calvin’s voice was muffled as he spoke to Brent, and Max rolled his eyes.

  “Max,” Calvin’s deep voice came back on the line, clearer.

  “I didn’t go anywhere. You called me. What do you want?” Max growled.

  Silence.

  “What crawled up your ass and died?” Cal asked.

  “Cal—“

  “Can you drive to Dad’s Friday? That big-ass dying tree in the backyard finally cracked under last week’s ice storm. Dad wants it cleared out and if we don’t do it Friday, he’s going to do it over the weekend. And then he’ll throw his back out and be even more miserable than usual. Brent and I don’t want to deal with that shit, so we need to get this tree taken care of. You in?”

  Max gritted his teeth and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. His older brothers had to work with their dad every day at the shop. And sparing them from their father’s wrath was the only reason he said what he did next. “Sure.”

  Cal’s voice was muffled again. “Will you quit yapping in my ear? I asked him and he said he’d do it. Fuck, you’re annoying . . . What? . . . Christ, fine, Brent.” More muffled sounds and again the clearer voice. “Max?”

  This time, he didn’t even dignify it with an answer. Cal continued, “Brent wants some of your cookies.”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “Last time I saw both of you, looked like you needed to lay off the cookies.”

  “Fuck you,” Cal said, laughing, and Max grinned wider.

  “I’ll be there. With cookies.”

  “Later, bro.”

  Max ended the call, took one last look at the alley and then gathered the cat’s dishes before trudging into the kitchen. As he washed the dishes, voices filtered in from the living room, Kat’s laughter, Lea’s quiet murmuring, Alec conversing with their other roommate, Camilo Ruiz.

  Amazing how the voices of a full house made Max feel even more alone.

  A
breeze ruffled the back of Max’s T-shirt. He glanced over his shoulder at the open screen door and frowned. He must have forgotten to shut it. He dried his hands, pulled the door shut, and then walked into the living room.

  Lea and Kat sat on floor in front of the coffee table, books open in front of them, heads bent to their task. Alec sat behind Kat, his spread legs on either side of her.

  Alec, his best friend since elementary school, turned his head when Max cleared his throat. Alec’s face turned wary, and Max hated he’d been such a prick lately that even his best friend was cautious around him. “Hey, man,” Alec said.

  Max nodded. “What’s up, Zuk?”

  Alec smiled, clearly loving that Max used the old nickname. Max had given it to him years ago because of his pompadour hairstyle—like Danny Zuko from Grease.

  Alec’s fingers absentmindedly shifted through Kat’s hair. “Cat let you touch it yet?”

  Lea’s eyes were on Max. He could feel them, like twin heat-seeking missiles. “No,” he said.

  Alec nodded encouragingly. “He will. Just give it time.”

  Max shrugged, playing it off like he didn’t care.

  “Wanna play?” Cam asked, tilting the controller to his video game system, eyes on the TV as his army guy dodged a grenade and took aim at a sniper.

  Max chuckled at their roommate. “No thanks, man. Got some studying to do.” Even though he didn’t give a shit about his major, he was so close to graduating, he could smell it.

  He took one step forward, when a black blur flew past him and raced up the stairs. “Holy shit!” Max yelped, losing his footing and crashing painfully into the coffee table. The girls screeched. Cam threw his remote control, and Alec joined Max on the coffee table, both of them clutching each other like it was some B-rate horror movie.

  “What the fuck was that?” Alec’s low voice vibrated in Max’s ear.

  “A raccoon?” Cam guessed.

  “A dog,” Lea said.

  “A real big dog,” Kat added.

  “I think it was a bear,” Max said.

  Alec’s nails dug into Max’s biceps. “I don’t think bears move that fast.”

  “Okay, so, like a freak bear.” Max gently pushed Alec off of him before he could develop bruises.

  Cam stood up slowly, eyes on the stairs. “I wish I had my gun.”

  Alec rolled his eyes. “We’re not in a combat zone.”

  “I’m going to get a broom,” Max declared, heading for the kitchen.

  “A broom?” Alec called after him. “What’s a broom going to do?”

  Max grabbed the wooden handled broom from the corner of the kitchen and walked back into the living room, brandishing it like a sword. “I don’t know, I’ll poke it.”

  Alec narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure this freak bear is going to love being poked.”

  “You have a better idea?” Max retorted.

  Alec was mute.

  Kat tapped her finger to her lips. “Should I grab the fire extinguisher? That seems like something someone would do if this was a movie.”

  Alec laced his fingers with Kat’s. “I’m thinking we don’t need the fire extinguisher.”

  Max drew his eyes away from the couple to see Lea quietly climbing the flight of stairs. “Hey,” he said, shouldering past her, broom held out in defense. “You don’t know what that thing is. Don’t just march up there alone.”

  Lea eyed the broom, then him, and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to protect me, then? With a broom?”

  Max’s cheeks warmed. “Well, I don’t see your Polo Boy around to help you . . .”

  Her eyes narrowed. “His name is Nick,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Again, a flash of recognition hit him, but he pushed it aside and focused on the petite spitfire in front of him. “Well, you wanna call him and see if he has any better ideas?”

  He swore Lea growled under her breath before she waved him on. “Fine, you first then.”

  Max walked slowly up the stairs, broom handle out, while the caravan followed him, Cam bringing up the rear. Alec’s room was at the top of the stairs and Max poked his head in, looking around.

  “All clear!” He called out.

  “Christ,” muttered an exasperated Alec behind Lea.

  “All clear!” Kat echoed, followed by a “Roger that!” from Cam.

  Next was the bathroom, and Max used the broom handle to slowly push aside the shower curtain. The only creature in there was a wad of hair Kat had left behind. “All clear except for a Kat hairball!” Max called.

  “Hey!” Kat protested.

  “Roger that!” Cam repeated.

  Lea laughed behind Max and he decided he liked that sound.

  Next was Max’s room, and the door was definitely open wider than he had left it. He held up a closed fist and Lea bumped into him. “Don’t you know the hand signal for stop?” he whispered over his shoulder.

  Those eyes pierced him. “Excuse me. Your massive head is blocking my sight and I can’t see anything.”

  “Hey,” Max said, affronted. “Cam, you gotta teach Lea the military hand signals or whatever.”

  “Roger that!” Cam called again with a laugh. He was in the Air National Guard and knew all that fancy stuff.

  Max focused back on the task at hand—ridding their campus apartment of unwanted wildlife.

  He motioned for Lea to stay outside his bedroom door and peeked in, broom handle at the ready to defend his person.

  And right there, in the center of his unmade bed, was a ball of black fur. Yellow eyes blinked at him and a pink mouth opened to reveal white teeth and a chipped fang.

  “Well fuck me,” Max said, lowering the broom handle and releasing the tension in his shoulders.

  “What’s going on?” Alec called and Max turned around to survey his makeshift backup.

  “It’s him,” he said, still in awe.

  “Who?” Kat asked.

  “Him,” Max waved a hand toward his bedroom. “The cat.”

  Kat’s eyes widened. “How the heck did he get in the house?”

  Max bit his lip. “I left the back door open while I washed the dishes. I guess he crept in and hid or something, then we saw him when he ran up here.” He shifted his weight. “And he’s hurt, I think.”

  “You just going to leave him in there?” Kat said.

  Max shrugged. “Sure. I mean, he could use a break from the cold and he seems to be loving my bed.”

  Alec slung an arm around Kat’s shoulders. “All right, well, we’ll leave you alone with your cat, then. Let us know if you need anything.” They walked downstairs, Cam at their heels. “I’m glad it’s not a bear,” he muttered.

  Max stood in the doorway of his room, staring at the cat on his bed. He seemed right at home, lounging on the worn gray comforter.

  “What’re you going to name him?” A musical voice said beside him, and he looked down at Lea at his side. Her head barely came up to his armpit as she gazed at the cat.

  Max looked around his room, at the shelf that held his favorite hockey stick and the game puck he won when he called into a radio show and had to belch the Ocean City Devils’ fight song.

  Then his eyes fell back on the cat. His scarred, chipped-toothed cat. “Wayne.”

  Lea’s head tilted, and a soft lock of hair brushed his bicep. “Wayne?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, after the hockey player Wayne Gretzky. The cat’s kind of . . .” He almost said scarred but he remembered Lea’s limp, and he stopped short. “He seems tough. You can take one look at him and see he’s won his fair share of fights.”

  Lea pursed those lips, the ones he’d stared at many times, all lush and full with a cupid’s bow. Her eyes searched his and he didn’t know what she was looking for.

  Then she hummed in the back of her throat and her hand fluttered at her left thigh. “Guess so,” she said quietly. Then she turned and peered at him from over her shoulder as she left his bedroom. “I’ll leave you two alone, since you hav
e some ‘getting to know you’ to do.”

  Then, with a quick smile, she was gone.

  Max turned to Wayne, whose eyes shifted from the door back to Max. “What you think of her, buddy?”

  Wayne licked his lips, and Max laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

  Chapter 3

  LEA BALLED HER fist and kneaded her left quad to ease the soreness out of the overtaxed muscle. Normally she worked behind the desk of the library, where she sat in a comfy chair, but like a dummy she’d volunteered to reshelve these book returns because Nick—who’d just gotten a job at the library with her—wasn’t feeling well. So he sat behind the desk, coughing and infecting everyone with the plague.

  She waved to him and he began to wave before he went into a coughing fit.

  So maybe he would have been better off in her place.

  “Hey Lea,” said a voice, followed by a crunch of teeth sinking into an apple. She turned her head and looked into the bright green eyes of her roommate, Danica Owens.

  Bright green, as in almost neon. “New contacts?”

  Danica fluttered her eyes. “Yep. Like ’em?”

  Lea shrugged. “I like your natural eye color.”

  Today—because Danica’s look changed every day—she had a grunge thing going on. Black jeans, motorcycle boots, ripped Guns ’N’ Roses T-shirt under a studded leather jacket.

  “Rock on,” Danica said, sticking her tongue out and making the devil horn gesture with her hands.

  Lea snorted and went back to shelving books. “How’s Monica?”

  Danica toed a tear in the library carpeting with her boot, her gesture unusual. Uncertainty wasn’t a look she normally wore. “Okay,” she answered, that one word saying more than she probably meant it to about her on-again, off-again girlfriend.

  Lea stopped what she was doing and turned to Danica. “What’s going on?”

  Danica shrugged, the leather of her jacket squeaking where she leaned against a shelf.

  “Dan—”

  An irritated sigh. “She wants me to go home with her over Thanksgiving break.”