No one except Tate and Elliot had really asked Max about his addiction and what he could and couldn’t manage in terms of the lures around him. Max knew it wasn’t because his family and friends didn’t care; they simply trusted him enough and believed in him enough to leave him to his own devices. His vice had never been alcohol as much as cocaine, but he knew how quickly one addiction could be filled with another. Plus he couldn’t drink while on his meds. His steps helped, of course, but Max understood how cautious people were, of asking too much or coddling him, which he hated. But, apparently, Grace being cautious was an altogether different thing and caused a tug in Max’s chest that was warm and comforting.
He smiled gently. “Grace, I’ll be fine. The clubs around here aren’t like the ones I went to in New York. I doubt there’ll be too much to worry about. Besides, I’m the designated driver.”
She nodded, looking down at the floor, appearing embarrassed. “Oh. Okay. I just thought I’d ask. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
Max moved closer, subtly running the tip of his index finger along her forearm. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For caring enough to ask.”
She lifted her face to his. “You’re welcome.”
The club was absolutely nothing like the dives Max used to frequent in the city. This place played pop music and had disco balls hanging from the ceiling, for shit’s sake.
Max side-eyed Josh in annoyance. “What the fuck?”
Josh shrugged drunkenly in response just as Ruby squealed when some heinous boy-band music started blaring from the DJ stand. She grabbed Josh’s arm and dragged the poor bastard across the club so she could dance with him. Max glanced around, fighting down the urge to bolt.
The walls were adorned with mirrors and pictures of musicians from every era from the sixties to the present day, including Britney Spears and the other blonde chick who wore chaps with her ass on show, next to a picture of a leather-clad Elvis. Poor dude was probably turning in his grave. It was hell on earth. Max knew that if Carter heard about his being in such a place, he’d have ended their friendship immediately. And Max wouldn’t have blamed him. Even Buck looked forlorn dressed in his Van Halen T-shirt and Vans. While the girls, including his aunt, jumped and flailed to the beat around Josh, Max placed himself at the bar next to his uncle and the deputy and watched.
The place was bustling, filled with Independence Day revelers, some dressed in costumes ranging from Mickey Mouse to Darth Vader, making the atmosphere light. People smiled, hugged, and generally looked like they were having an awesome time, which helped Max stop thinking about the fact that he was nursing a Pepsi and not a shot of something stronger. Not that he’d thought about it all that much. In truth, all night his mind had been on one particular woman on the dance floor, looking spectacular as she lifted her arms and sang ABBA at the top of her lungs. He smiled. Max was certainly seeing another side to Grace. With each drink she consumed, she became chattier, more tactile, and a lot flirtier. She was definitely testing Max’s resolve, but he found himself enjoying her attentions.
“She’s a pretty girl.”
Max looked from the dancing to his uncle and back again. “Don’t start.”
His uncle chuckled and moved closer. “Who’s starting?”
Max snorted. “It’s not like that between us.” He saw his uncle in his periphery, nodding as he drank from his beer glass. “We’re friends.”
“She doesn’t look at you like you’re just her friend, Max.”
Max turned to look at the man at his side, his smile fading at the cautious tone in his uncle’s voice. He wasn’t exactly sure what Uncle Vince’s words made him feel, but there was definitely a pinch of something that felt suspiciously like panic at the base of his neck.
“Look,” Uncle Vince continued, turning to face the bar instead of the dance floor, shoulder to shoulder with Max. “I don’t wanna know what’s going on between you two. It’s not my business. You look happy together, friends or more. I just want to make sure that she treats you right. That shit there is my business.”
Max blinked. “Treats me right?” He barked a laugh. “Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”
His uncle didn’t answer with anything other than a pointed look. “You’re fragile, Max. You hide it well, but I can see it because I’ve known you since your daddy put you in my arms when you were two days old.” Max shuffled uncomfortably while his uncle glanced back toward the dance floor. “She cares for you, but so did Lizzie.” Max swallowed hard, his throat tight. “All’s I’m saying is be careful, son. Don’t lose yourself in something you’re not ready for. Wouldn’t be fair on either of you.”
Max nodded. “It’s all good,” he assured his uncle. “Honestly. We both know where we stand. I’ll be careful.”
Uncle Vince placed a large hand on Max’s shoulder and squeezed. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”