The Perception (The Exception #2)

I took a step towards him. I didn’t really know who he was to her, but he wasn’t going to tell her what she was gonna do. Boy better learn some manners.

“You need to back off,” I said firmly. I didn’t want to pull a Cane, but I suddenly understood him in a way I never had before. The night he beat the shit out of Simon Powers when he found out that Simon had grabbed Jada, I thought maybe he went overboard. But now I realized that if this bastard grabbed Kari, I’d do more damage than Cane ever thought about.

“And who are you?” he asked me, raising his eyebrows. His posture changed immediately, his back stiffening.

“Better watch your tone.” I cocked my head, not the least bit intimidated by this little shit. “I’m her boyfriend. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I used to be her fiancé,” he said, his voice challenging me.

Fiancé?

I looked to Kari, her skin going white. I looked down at Blaine. While that explained a little, it didn’t matter now, and it was time he knew that.

“Well, I am her man now. You need to be on your way.”

“Oh my God!” Samantha exclaimed behind me in disbelief, but everyone ignored her.

Kari’s eyes filled with tears, her bottom lip quivering.

“Kari,” Blaine said, his voice chock full of emotion. “Look, now that we’re face-to-face, let’s talk. There’s so much to discuss . . .”

She shook her head sadly, breaking my heart. “There’s nothing to talk about. Max,” she turned to me, “let’s go home.”

I nodded and she climbed into the truck, Blaine watching her every move. I knew he was itching to reach out and touch her, to grab ahold of her. Good thing he had some sense.

I shut the door closed behind her and turned around. “See ya at work,” I nodded to Sam before looking at Blaine.

Sam stood silently, her jaw wide open. Blaine’s eyes were glued to the passenger side seat of my truck.

I started to walk to the driver side, but stopped mid-step and turned around. “Whatever happened between you two was then. This is now. Ya hear me? You mess with my girl and you’ll be a sorry sonofabitch.”

With one final look at Kari through the window and a quick, irritated glance at me, he made the right decision and turned on his heel and walked away.





KARI


Max climbed in the truck, started it, and took off towards the house.

He didn’t say a word.

His jaw was working overtime and he took off his hat and tossed it into the backseat, running his hands through his hair.

He didn’t even look at me.

I was in too much shock to say anything, my brain too clouded to even process what I should do or say or what this little meet-and-greet meant for my future. For Max’s future. For our future . . . or a lack thereof.

This might just be the evening that things come to an end with Max.

My mind traveled back to the afternoon that things came to a sudden halt with Blaine. Images of his face when I told him the news flashed through my memory like a wrecking ball. The words he spat at me. The way the door sounded when he left and the sound of it opening again a few days later. The hope that snuck in my heart through the cracked pieces when he walked into our bedroom. The look on his face, the look of dejection that demolished any remaining pieces of my heart into splinters.

The sound of the closet opening and the zipper of his bags as he pulled them open. The coat hangers jangling on the metal rods as he took his stuff out of the closet. The sound of my sobs filling in the dead spaces.

The feeling of his breath, hot on my face, as he kissed me goodbye. The sound of his voice telling me he just wasn’t ready and that he couldn’t do it. That he was leaving me.

That he was leaving us . . . in every sense of the word.

I’ll never forget hearing how empty the house sounded when the front door slammed shut. The last time he’d ever shut it.

I jumped back to reality when Max touched my hand.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice soft. I glanced quickly up into his eyes. The irritation was still there, but concern overshadowed it.

I tried to smile, but was afraid that I’d lose the small amount of control I had managed to hang onto. I looked in front of me. His house, our house for however much longer—weeks, days, but probably minutes—sat in front of us.

I remembered the first time Max brought me to his home. The night after we went to Maisano’s the first time. How I felt such a connection to Max that night. I ended up sleeping in his bed. I felt my face ease with a smile as I remembered my surprise the next morning. Random sex was good for me, but I never stayed the night. It implied too much. But with Max, it just happened as naturally as anything.

Everything was easy with Max.

But feeling it end wouldn’t be.

We sat quietly in the truck, the engine off, both of us sort of working through our thoughts. He took my hand in his and traced the lines in my hand with his thumb. “I know all the lines in your palm,” he said, more to himself than to me. “I know every bend and every deviation. I know them better than my own.”