Had To Make You Mine

by Kat Long

  “Oh, I’m sure my mother would love to hear that one.”

  “Fair point, Blue. How about… The Man Who Rocks Your World?” he said with a smile, putting the beer bottle to his lips and taking a drink.

  “So, you rock her world?” Uncle Bob’s deep voice said, stepping up to our table and crossing his arms over his barrel chest.

  Just as I thought Max was going to snort beer up his nose and sputter through a response, he smiled, stood up, and held out his hand.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Would you repeat that, please? I was too busy staring at your gorgeous niece,” Max said with ease, not at all put out by Uncle Bob’s playful jab.

  “Ha! Good man! Pleasure to meet you. The name’s Bob.” He shook Max’s hand enthusiastically and stepped over to give me a quick hug.

  “Bob. The pleasure is mine. I’m Maxwell Jackson. Please call me Max.”

  “Thanks, Max. It does these old bones good to hear you say that.”

  “Old bones?” I said, “Stop that! You are not old.”

  I tried to level him with an intimidating stare, but it must have come across as more of a grimace, or maybe a sign of constipation, because Max jumped back in the conversation, squeezing my thigh.

  “Quite the place you have here. I look forward to coming back soon to hear Annaleigh play and look forward to watching Alex tonight. Annaleigh says she’s a terrific drummer.”

  Releasing Max’s hand, he smiled and moved to stand between us.

  “Thank you, Max. And yes, hearing both of them play is always a treat. You’re welcome here anytime. And Annaleigh, there is something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Sure, what’s going on, UB?” He dropped his eyes to the floor before meeting mine. I put my hand over Max’s and hoped he wouldn’t bring up the check again. I deposited it last week. Probably.

  “Your aunt and I have been talking. We wanted your thoughts on taking a more active role here, at the bar.”

  “A more active role? Like you want me to handle the books?”

  “Um, sure. If that’s what you’re comfortable with,” he said, his body language clearly saying that was not what he had in mind.

  Was he short a bartender? Or did he need help with scheduling the local bands?

  “I take it, that’s not what you were thinking. What did you have in mind?”

  The question lingered in the air while Max used his thumb to trace patterns on my hand.

  “Well, we would like to do some traveling now that Alex is moving away. I’d love to go back to Norway, and Diane wants to go to Scotland. With both of us being so active here, it would be hard to leave for more than a long weekend.”

  I still didn’t understand. It almost sounded like he wanted to retire, but that couldn’t be right. Opening this place had been his dream for so long. The silence dragged on for a minute or five as Lace and Whiskey warmed up.

  “Um, I’m going to go get us another beer,” Max said, breaking the silence and kissing my cheek before grabbing my bottle and walking up to the bar. Nodding to him, I looked back to Uncle Bob and took a deep breath.

  “Are you thinking of retiring?”

  “Maybe. If not that, then at least slowing down. I had a career, and this has become a second one. And even though I love every second, I don’t want to wake up and be seventy years old with regrets.”

  “I honestly figured Alex would eventually move back and take over.”

  “She loves this place, yes. But not like we do, Annaleigh. Diane and I were wondering if you would consider stepping in and managing B’s. You’ve been instrumental in making this place thrive.”

  “But…” I played with my cell phone and stared at the floor, not knowing what to say.

  Take over the bar?

  “I know. I know. You love your job. I’m just throwing the option out there should you want a change of pace. It’s a lot of nights and a lot of tedious details, but if there is anyone that loves this place as much as we do, it’s you.”

  “Can I have some time?” I said, looking down to stare at the floor.

  “Of course. I’m not asking for an answer this week or even this month. It’s just something for you to think about for the future. I mean, this could be a sign, right?”

  “A sign?”

  “Yeah, a sign. Or destiny, or whatever. Just don’t dismiss it before giving it some thought. Oh, and Max seems like a good guy, and you look happy. It’s nice to see you smile more.”

  Max came back with two more beers and set one in front of me before sitting back down.

  “Back to behind the bar. Good to meet you, Max.”

  He reached out to shake Max’s hand and clap him on the back before smiling and walking away. I took a sip of beer but couldn’t taste it. Max put his hand on my thigh, as I processed what UB asked.

  “Come back to me, Blue. What’s going on?” he said after the server dropped off our burgers.

  I rubbed my forehead and shook out my hair, picking up the beer for another drink.

  “He’s thinking about retiring, Max. He, um, asked me how I felt about taking over for him.”

  “Oh. That’s intense, Blue. Especially after our day. I take it that wasn’t even on your radar?”

  “No, it wasn’t,” I said, cutting my burger in half and taking a bite. “I’m not upset or anything, just thrown for a loop. I mean, one day, he’s talking about this new local band that’s coming to practice, and the next, he’s saying he wants to travel. I’m all for travel, and I understand where he’s coming from but give a girl some warning.”

  Lace and Whiskey played their first song, and we ate and watched. Max’s head was bobbing to the music, and my fingers tapped chords on the table. I ate half my burger but pushed the rest away, no longer hungry.

  “Are you feeling better? Want another beer?”

  “I’m good on the beer, thanks, Max. It’s been a lot to process today. And honestly, I’m not feeling great. I made an appointment with my doctor to see if my hypocalcemia might be best treated a different way. I don’t think the oranges are cutting it, and the calcium chews aren’t working.”

  “Hmm. I’d miss the oranges if you gave them up. They make you smell editable,” Max said, leaning over to give me a swift kiss. “Why’d you decide to call your doctor?”

  “Well. Bird, mostly. But also, you.”

  “Elaborate for me.”

  Max raised his hand, asking for the check, and passed over his credit card. He finished the last swallow of his beer before focusing on me.

  “It’s strange. But a good strange. Ever since we met… it’s like my mind is clearer. I’ve been writing lyrics and playing more. It’s almost like you filled something I was missing. Something to help me heal. Then Bird all but kicked my ass while we were in Tennessee, and I stopped feeling guilty. So mostly, I’m saying, in a very roundabout and vague way, is that I’m happy, Max. You make me happy. Incredibly happy.”

  He smiled and took my hand, leading me out of the bar as we waved to Uncle Bob. The night was balmy, and even though I was tired, I hated I was going home alone. He turned down the radio when we got in his truck and rubbed his hands together, pulling onto the road.

  “When I first moved down here, Blue, the last thing I was looking for was a relationship. I was so jaded by Nicole. I think I still am sometimes. It’s hard to trust, and I’m always thinking the worst. But being with you, I feel like this is how it should be. Maybe not with all the extra drama that comes with us, but what a real relationship should be. And just so you know, I am totally and completely bamboozled by you, Blue.”

  “Thank you, Max. You make my heart so happy. But I’m not sure if that’s the right context for bamboozled.”

  “What? Yes, it is. Max, smart. Max know words,” he said, doing his best Tarzan impression before hitting his chest with a loud thump that echoe
d in the truck.

  And then I pictured him in nothing but a loincloth, and I had to press my thighs together to keep from crawling over the console and straight onto his dick like a nymphomaniac. Looking over, he gave me a sexy wink that did nothing but made my panties wetter.

  “Whisk me away on the ridges of your chest.”

  “So tomorrow,” Max said, “Warren and I are going to clear the air and start over. But it’s nerve-wracking, knowing we weren’t in each other’s lives for so long. Plus, I’m halfway between wanting to find Benjamin and bloody his nose and wanting to lock you in my bedroom until we are one-hundred percent sure he’s handled. I am not used to… not being in control.”

  “I love it when you go all possessive, Growly Alpha on me.”

  “Growly Alpha? Will that make the list of potential nicknames?”

  “Maybe… And did you say your brother’s name is Warren?”

  “Yeah, Warren. I’ve told you that before, I think. Why?”

  “Just another freaking coincidence. My brain is weird.”

  Get it together, woman!

  I twirled a strand of my hair, letting his brother’s name sink in.

  Stop looking for signs that are clearly not there!

  “Okay, way to be clear as mud,” he said with a laugh, pulling up beside my car and walking around to open the door for me. I moved to step out, but he stepped between my legs and leaned in, running his stubble against my neck. Sandalwood and clean cotton clouded my senses, so I tilted my neck, and he peppered me with kisses until he reached my lips. He brought both hands to my face and kissed me slowly like he had all the time in the world.

  I leaned into him and sighed, loving the taste of beer and mint as his tongue stroked mine. I loved the way Max kissed me. Slow, sensual, and oh so passionate.

  All too soon, he pulled away and pressed his forehead to mine.

  “Remind me why I’m going home alone tonight,” he said, giving me several quick kisses in a row, making me all but lose my train of thought.

  “I don’t remember. Not when you kiss me like that.”

  “Good, baby. Because I want another night with you. Do you need anything from your car?”

  “Not a thing, Max. Come home with me.”

  He kissed me again, long and slow, stroking his tongue with mine as his fingers traced up and down my arms. Rational thought all but left my body when we kissed. Bird, the bar, and Benjamin faded to background noise. When we broke away, and he closed the truck door, I was so close to saying I love you. The words were on my tongue, and they felt so natural, so right. But love? In such a short period?

  Faces swam across my vision, like more missing puzzle pieces, and something tried to push its way through my subconscious. But every time I thought it was getting closer, it slipped away.

  Max turned the radio louder, humming to the music and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. I watched the streetlights speed by and reminded myself that everything wasn’t a coincidence, and everything wasn’t a sign. I had a smart, sexy, growly man that was all mine, and I was his.

  - 24 -

  PIECE ME TOGETHER

  Max

  Sliced it, Bro,” Warren said, taking a sip of iced tea and turning his head with a grin. “You going to go for two over par again? Or this time, try for three?”

  His lanky frame shook with silent laughter as I glared up at him. I rarely looked up at anyone, but at six foot four, Warren towered over me by several inches.

  I whispered ‘asshole’ loud enough for him to hear before stepping away so he could take his shot. He re-tucked his bright pink polo, lined up, and drove the ball straight down the fairway.

  Asshole.

  He smirked and brushed nonexistent dust from said pink polo, shrugging his shoulders as if he could see the steam coming out of my ears and didn’t fucking care. He walked down to our cart without waiting for me to reply. I was too mad at my piss-poor game for a comeback, so I resorted to our same old golf razz, just like when we were teenagers.

  “Doesn’t matter. I still have a better short game than you.”

  I followed him over and slammed my driver back into the bag before sitting beside him and crossing my arms over my chest. I didn’t find my rhythm in the front nine, and the back nine was going the same way. The freaking water hazard on the seventh hole did me in, and I haven’t hit the ball right since.

  “Maybe. But it’s only because this is all you corporate types do, right? Play golf? Some of us have real jobs, Maxie.”

  Warren stepped on the gas, and we headed down the path in search of my ball. He used my old nickname, and even though I hated when he called me that, it felt damn good. It felt like I had my brother back. We fell into step as if it had been weeks since we had seen each other, not years.

  “Ha! Some days, but it’s still better than sitting in a cubical, playing video games, dick.”

  I scanned the fairway for my ball, and it mocked me from a bunker. I grabbed another club before stomping over in the hope I could make it to the green.

  I turned around and looked at Warren, who walked behind and picked up the rake before he answered.

  “Video games? Is that what you old men call line editing software manuals these days?”

  “Just shut up so I can blow this damn shot, and you can finally give me a rundown of these last years.”

  “Whatever you say, Maxie.”

  I blasted the ball from the bunker, spraying sand in every direction. Surprisingly, the damn ball made it to the green, and I fist-pumped the air like a spoiled kid who finally got his way.

  I got this!

  Finishing the hole, only one over par—thank you very much—we packed it up and headed to the clubhouse. I was in a great mood, even though my final score was three damn digits.

  We dropped the cart off, and I changed into my bandana-chain Amiri sneakers before heading to the bar and taking a seat by the window. I fired off a quick text to Annaleigh in the locker room, and as I sat down, she sent me a selfie of her and Baxter. I noticed her bright eyes and smile first, and those gorgeous tits second. She was teasing me with her low-cut shirt, and I loved it. The table gave me cover as I reached down to adjust my dick, and Warren stared at me with a stupid grin on his face.

  “I see you still have a sneaker fetish,” he said, looking at my black and white shoes. “Now, want to tell me what that text was about?”

  “Want to tell me first what’s happened in your life these last few years? Not sugar-coating any of the bad shit?”

  Just as Warren was about to talk or tell me to fuck-off, the server walked over with a smile and an introduction.

  “I’ll have a pulled pork BBQ sandwich and sweet potato fries with a draft IPA. Um, no. Soda, please.”

  “Miss? It’s Meghan, right?” Warren said with a glance at her name tag. “What my much older brother means is an IPA, not soda. And I’ll have an Arnold Palmer with a lobster Po-Boy sandwich and a salad, please.”

  Meghan nodded, walking away, and Warren glared at me like I had done something wrong.

  “Don’t do that, Maxie. Don’t order soda because you don’t want to drink in front of me. I’m good. I’m clean, have been for years. Now, are you going to tell me what made you grin like a guy who found his father’s stash of porn?”

  At the mention of our father, we both paused, and he cleared his throat.

  “Tell you what. I’ll tell you why I’m grinning if you hold nothing back about what happened.”

  “Deal,” Warren said. We clink our glasses together, and I took a long pull from the IPA, enjoying the hops.

  “You first, man. I’m straight dying about what has finally removed the giant stick from your ass.” Warren rubbed his hands together like he was waiting for juicy gossip, ever the Drama King.

  “I’m dating someone. Someone the opposite
of fucking Nicole.”

  “Yes! I knew it! I told Tay that’s what it was. That man owes me a back rub. Sweet! I’m going to need to meet and vet her for you—only the best for my big-bro. Now, you sure you’re ready for this, Maxie? I will not sugar-coat this shit for you.”

  “Hit me.” I finished the IPA and set it down, crossing my arms and bracing for his story.

  “So, picture it. Almost seven years ago, on the eve of my High-School graduation.” He paused for dramatic effect and swept his hand across the table. I leveled him with a scowl that had him crack another smile and shake his head.

  “Damn, you remind me of Father when you scowl like that.”

  I schooled my features and was about to tell him not to compare me to that megalomaniac when he kept talking.

  “Yeah. Anyway,” he said. “That night, after graduation, I went to them. I had known I was gay for years, probably my whole life, and had finally made peace with myself and who I was. I knew it would be hard and knew that I wouldn’t fit into their idea of our perfect country-club family. I had hoped to have an open conversation. But nope, I should have known. Mother started crying and wouldn’t even look at me. Father took a more direct approach. He threw his drink at me. The glass shattered on my face and gave me this nice little souvenir.”

  Warren pointed to a thin scar on his left cheek and took a drink of his Arnold Palmer, probably pretending it was whiskey. Or maybe glad he wasn’t dependent on whiskey. Looking off towards the green, he rubbed his hands on his shorts and took a breath.

  “Holy shit, Warren.”

  “Yeah. Holy shit is right. Father told me to get out, that I wasn’t his son, that I was dead to him. I nodded or yelled. I honestly don’t remember and said I’d be gone as soon as I pack. Father said no. He wrote me a check and dropped it on the ground, and said to leave right then. No clothes, not even a fucking toothbrush. He never wanted to see me again.”

  “I remember that weekend, man. I’d been on the other side of the house, without a clue as to what happened. Father stormed into my room that night, completely trashed. He was screaming about how you’d left and demanded my cell phone. I’m positive he blocked your number. I called you the next day, and it said out of service. I should have known. What did you do? Where did you go?”