So This Is Love

chapter Twelve

"Do you know how long it's been since I drank more than one glass of wine?" Nicole asked. "Three years."

"That's a long time," Emma said. "Have some pretzels."

"The last time was the day the doctor told me that Brandon was autistic, that he was probably never going to be normal, and that I would have to find a way to live with it."

"A*shole," Emma muttered.

"The next doctor said the same thing in a nicer way, but the point was still the same."

"But you didn't give up then, and you're not giving up now. You'll fight for Brandon with every breath that you take."

"I will," Nicole confirmed.

"What about Ryan? Why won't you fight for him?"

"I don't have anything left for Ryan," she said wearily. "I know it's wrong, but Brandon is the most important person right now. There's only a small window of time where we can make positive change. Ryan will still be Ryan in two or three or five years, but Brandon could be completely different, if I do the right things now. I don't know why Ryan can't understand that."

Emma admired Nicole's faith. It had been three years, and Brandon hadn't changed all that much despite Nicole's intense efforts. He was still withdrawn. He didn't speak to anyone, except maybe Nicole, and only then in one-word sentences. He was locked in a world inside of his head, and no one could get to him. While she respected Nicole as a mother, she worried that her stubborn, relentless focus on Brandon would cost her sister her marriage.

"You think I'm a bitch, don't you?" Nicole asked.

Emma smiled. "Hey, I was already called that once today, so if you are, don't feel bad. Apparently, it runs in the family."

"Who called you a bitch?" Nicole asked, her gaze narrowing.

"Jon. He came to see me, to ask me to come back to him."

"What? Why? I thought that was over."

"It is over, but apparently he's having second thoughts. I don't understand why he's suddenly obsessed with getting me back. He didn't give me this much attention when we lived together."

"Jon didn't appreciate what he had until he lost it. You were way too good for him."

"Jon does hate to lose." Emma paused. "Our encounter was awkward and embarrassing. Jon tracked me down outside my office, and we had to have this conversation in front of a man I'm working with."

"Who?" Nicole asked curiously.

"This detective," she said vaguely.

Nicole gazed at her thoughtfully. "Are you talking about that man that we saw at the restaurant a few weeks back? The one you said you didn't like?"

"Yeah, that's the one—Max Harrison. He's investigating Sister Margaret's death, so our cases are tied up together. He's actually not as bad as I thought."

"So you do like him?"

"I'm trying not to," she admitted, knowing that she was pretty much failing at that.

"Why are you trying not to? You're single. It sounds like he is, too."

"I made such a mess of my last relationship."

"Jon wasn't right for you. Maybe this guy is."

"I doubt it. And Max and I have to work together on occasion, so it's not like I could avoid him if things got messed up." She shook her head. "No, getting involved with him is a bad idea. And I need to say away from bad ideas, even if they are ruggedly handsome and sexy as hell."

Nicole smiled. "That bad, huh?"

She nodded. "My mouth literally waters when I see him. It's terrible."

"It sounds like fun." Nicole paused up as the waitress set down a full basket of snack mix. "Wow, we went through the first bowl fast."

Emma smiled and grabbed a handful of pretzels. "So, where exactly has Ryan gone?"

"He rented a furnished apartment by the airport."

"That sounds like a temporary situation."

"I don't know, Em."

"You're just tired, Nic. And Ryan is, too. But it's going to be okay. You'll work things out."

"I don't know about that. Falling in love is easy, Emma, but staying in love is hard."

* * *

Max got up at six-thirty on Wednesday morning, dressed in sweats, and headed to the nearest drive-thru coffee house. At seven he pulled up to his mom's house and got out of the car. His mom was just coming down the stairs when he walked into the house. She looked shocked to see him.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Why are you here so early?"

"Nothing is wrong. Where's Spencer?"

"I assume he's still asleep. Why?"

"Do you still have our surfboards?"

She blinked in confusion. "I think they're still in the garage. Why?"

He headed down the hall.

"Are you going surfing?" she asked, following him through the kitchen.

"That depends on whether or not you still have the surfboards." He opened the door leading into the garage and walked down the steps. The surfboards were hanging on the garage wall, right where he'd last seen them about fifteen years ago. With any luck, the wet suits would also still be in the plastic bin on the shelf. They were. He smiled. So far the day was starting out right.

"I'm so happy you never throw anything away," he said.

His mother still looked confused. "What are you up to, Max?"

"I think Spencer could use a reminder of who he used to be."

A smile suddenly spread across her face, pleasure replacing the worry in her eyes. "Oh, Max, that's a great idea. Do you think he'll go surfing with you?"

"Oh, he's going," Max said purposefully.

"It's cold outside. The water will be freezing."

"That's why we have the wet suits," he said, pulling them out. They appeared to be in good condition, and neither he nor Spencer had put on weight since they'd last worn them. If anything, Spencer was thinner. They should fit. "I'm going to wake Spencer up."

"Don't let him say no," she urged.

He smiled at her, realizing how long it had been since they'd been on the same side of a situation. "I won't."

"Do you want breakfast?"

"We'll eat later," he said, hoping as he went up the stairs that he would be able to convince Spencer to go with him. He'd thought about their conversation the night before and knew that his brother needed an entry point back into his life. And why not surfing? That would take him back to a time when he'd been idealistic and able to dream. He needed to be reminded of what hope felt like.

Spencer was sleeping in his old bedroom. Max knocked on the door and then pushed it open, not waiting for an answer.

At his entrance, his brother bolted to a sitting position, his body going on high alert. "What's going on?" Spencer demanded.

"Sorry." He quickly realized that Spencer had probably slept with one eye open the last seven years. "It's time to get up. We're going surfing."

Spencer's jaw dropped. "Are you crazy? I haven't been surfing since I was twenty years old. And I don't think you have, either."

"It will come back to us."

Spencer flopped back in the bed. "I don't think so. It's cold."

"The wet suits are in good condition. We'll be fine."

"You're out of your mind. We'd more likely drown than catch a wave."

"The waves are not very big this morning. I drove by the beach on my way here. We can handle it. We used to be good."

"We used to be a lot of things."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he said. "So get up, and get dressed."

"You think I'm taking orders from you?"

Seeing Spencer's stubborn expression, he tried another tack. "You loved the ocean, Spence. I think that's why you went there last night. Surfing was your passion. Remember what you used to tell me—there's nothing like the ocean in the early morning to remind you of all the possibilities. I think you need that reminder today."

Indecision played through Spencer's eyes.

"At least come with me," Max said.

"You're getting in the water?"

"I am," he said. "I was hoping you'd be beside me, but if you want to wuss out—"

"I'm coming," Spencer said, as he got out of bed.

Max smiled. "Good. I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."

While he was waiting for Spencer, Max strapped the surfboards to the rack of his SUV and threw the wet suits into the back of the car. He was already cold, and was having many second thoughts about his brilliant idea, but he was too far into it to back out now.

A few minutes later they were on their way to the beach. They parked on a side street near the Great Highway and put on their wet suits by the side of the car.

"I feel like we're teenagers again," Spencer said.

He felt exactly the same way, and oddly enough it felt good.

After they got their wetsuits on, they carried their surfboards down to the beach. The sun was climbing into a bright blue sky, and there wasn't a cloud in sight. But the temperature was cold, and the sand was icy beneath his feet. The water was going to be freezing.

Spencer paused just before the reach of the tide. "It's going to be bad."

"Yeah, heart-stopping," he agreed.

"I don't know if I can do this," Spencer said, his expression doubtful. "The ocean feels so much bigger than it used to."

Max could understand his trepidation. Spencer's world had been very small the last seven years. The sea must feel incredibly vast. But maybe that's what he needed. Hell, maybe that's what they both needed.

Max had been so focused in on the details of his life; he hadn't stopped to take a look at the bigger picture in a very long time.

"The first time you took me surfing, you told me not to be afraid," he reminded Spencer. "You said you'd be right there with me." He met Spencer's gaze. "And today we'll be together again. One of us goes down, the other has his back."

Spencer didn't reply right away and Max knew that his brother was probably thinking that Max hadn't had his back for a long time. Thankfully, Spencer just nodded and said, "Okay, let's do it. You first."

He waded into the water and as he predicted, his heart skipped a beat at the first icy swirl around his ankles, but he kept going until he was waist deep. He glanced over his shoulder, watching Spencer follow him into the water.

Then Max stretched out on his board and began to paddle. It was tricky getting past the first breaking wave, but it wasn't a big one, and as they got out further, the ocean became calmer. He sat up on his board, as Spencer paddled in behind him.

Spencer sat up as well. He looked at the beach they'd left behind and then at Max.

"I cannot believe I'm out here again," he said, a sparkle in his eyes. "The sun beating down, the water swirling around us, the wind in our hair. Damn! I forgot how good this felt."

"And we haven't even ridden a wave yet."

"Not much happening today," Spencer commented, looking around.

He shrugged. "It's a good day for two rusty surfers."

"Why did you stop surfing?" Spencer asked.

"I don't remember."

"Come on. There had to be a reason you didn't take your surfboard with you to college. There are plenty of waves in Southern California."

"At the time, I was focused on school and figuring out what I wanted to do."

"That couldn't have taken long. You always wanted to be a cop."

"I had thought about it for a long time," he admitted.

"Because of Hank Crowley. You admired him. He was like your second dad."

"He was more of a father to me than my real dad was. He's a good man. He taught me the importance of trying to do the right thing." Max paused. "He did try to help you, Spencer. He went through the files. He talked to the investigators. He followed some leads himself."

"I don't want to talk about my case anymore," Spencer said, surprising him with his answer. "You still haven't answered my question."

"I stopped surfing when you moved out. It was something we did together. I didn't even consider taking the board to L.A." He gave his brother a thoughtful look. "When did you stop surfing?"

"Early twenties, I think. I remember surfing the morning of my college graduation. That was the last time. The board came home with me. I guess I put it in the garage, and I never went back for it. It was on to grad school and then a job. The stock markets open early on the West Coast. There was no time to hit the beach before breakfast." He let out a sigh. "That was a different life."

"Do you miss the job?"

Spencer shook his head. "I miss my lifestyle. I made some good money for a while. But the job was a crushing amount of work with tons of pressure. I couldn't have kept up the pace forever."

"What do you think you'll do now?"

"I don't know." He paused, then added, "Where's that deli you were talking about earlier?"

"It's the Second Street Deli and it's on Second Street. The owner's name is Gus. His sister, who runs the register, is going on maternity leave, and he needs someone part-time for a couple of months."

"And you think he'd hire me—an ex-con?"

"According to a friend of mine, Gus is an ex-con. He has turned his life around and would probably be amenable to helping someone else get a fresh start. It's not up to your skill or ability level, but it might give you something to do while you're figuring things out."

"Who's this friend of yours?" Spencer asked.

"Emma Callaway. She's a fire investigator. We're working on a case together that also involves a homicide. We happened to have lunch at the deli yesterday."

Spencer gave him a thoughtful look. "And you told Emma I needed a job?"

"Yes."

"You obviously also told her about my record."

Max nodded. "I did tell her a little. She looked up the rest on her own. She's a very curious person, and she likes to get in the middle of everything, which can be really annoying."

Spencer's gaze narrowed. "She's not just a colleague. You're interested in her."

"Far more than I should be," he admitted.

"Why? What's the problem? Is she with someone?"

"No, but we work together."

"Not all the time."

"Enough that it would complicate things."

"I don't think this is about your job. You're afraid of love and relationships and commitment."

"Maybe I am. I've seen the downside of love. And the upside isn't worth what comes later. I'm happy with my life the way it is. No one has ever made me want to think differently."

"Until this woman."

"You're making a big assumption."

"And so far you haven't been able to tell me I'm wrong."

"Emma could drive a man crazy."

Spencer smiled. "You might enjoy the ride."

"And then what?"

"You can't predict the future, Max. I certainly didn't know I'd end up here."

"I may not be able to predict the future, but I think that swell is going to turn into a nice wave," he said, tipping his head to the right. "Are you ready?"

"Probably not, but I'll give it a shot."

"I'll see you on the beach."

As the wave came, Max got to his feet, and managed to stay upright all the way to shore. When he came off the board, he saw Spencer coming in behind him. His brother stumbled into the water with a splash, but there was joy on his face.

"That was a rush," he said, wiping the water out of his eyes. "Man, that felt good. I feel alive again."

"You're back," Max said, meeting Spencer's gaze.

"Yeah, I'm back. Let's do that again. You can tell me more about Emma."

"I've told you more than enough."

"What does she look like?"

"Blonde, blue eyes, gorgeous smile, great curves."

"Sounds perfect."

"But she is one independent woman. She is stubborn and does not take no for an answer, and she is insanely competitive."

Spencer laughed. "Someone you can't control. That's going to be fun."

"No one can control her. She's very determined, and she likes to win. But she also has a really big heart." He paused, his tone turning somber. "I don't want to break that heart."

"That's why you're staying away from her?"

"I don't want forever, Spencer, and she's a forever kind of girl."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I know what kind of woman she is."

"I wasn't talking about her; I was talking about you."