I whirl away from the wimp in the mirror and blot my face with a bit of toilet paper. I straighten my spine and lift my chin, then march out of the bathroom, straight to the front door.
I don’t allow myself to look back, but I know Max is sprawled across the couch as sure as I know my shadow trails behind me. I know he’s tuned into preschool programming with the nephew he adores. I know today’s crossness is a product of last week’s rebuff.
And I know, somehow, that he can be the old Max, the good Max, again.
*
On New Year’s Day, True Brew cuts back its hours of business, which means Kyle and I get to open and close.
Leah comes in midafternoon to hang out, which is perfect because the holiday’s making for a slow shift. She stands opposite the pastry case, sipping the Honey Lavender Latte (today’s special) I made for her.
“My new favorite,” she says, licking a bit of foam from her lip. “So? How’d we all ring in the New Year?”
Kyle whistles a cartoony downslide. “I played Parcheesi with my parents. Hopefully last night’s not an indicator of how this year’s gonna pan out.”
“I baked,” I say, omitting the part about why I baked: to pull myself out of another case of Max-inflicted doldrums.
Leah smiles dreamily. “Jesse and I had dinner and saw a movie, and then we went back to his house. I hope he’ll always be my New Year’s kiss.”
Kyle rolls his eyes. “That comment so deserves to be mocked, and yet I kind of hope so, too.” He turns to me. “You didn’t see Max last night?”
“No. Why would I?”
“’Cause your parents hang out? I figured you two might end up getting together.”
“Nope, though I did have a brief encounter with him yesterday afternoon.”
“A brief encounter?” Leah says. “Sounds like you’re talking about a wild animal.”
“I mean, basically. I just…” The hurt of yesterday’s spurn finds me all over again, and I drop my elbows to the counter, letting my chin fall to my hands. “I feel so helpless. We’ve been friends for so long.… I should be able to make it easier for him to deal with what happened to his dad. Instead, I’m just standing by, watching him fall apart.”
“That’s not what you’re doing,” Leah says, reaching out to squeeze my hand.
But, yeah, I kind of am. Yesterday’s visit was a complete fail, and I abandoned him the night Officer Tate brought him home, the night he needed someone in his corner more than any other. I haven’t stopped regretting it.
“You can’t keep him from acting like an idiot,” Kyle says. “None of us can.”
Leah nods. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need his friends.”
“He still hangs out with his friends,” I mumble, looking at Kyle. “He sees you and Jesse and Leo all the time. He sees Becky.”
“Becky’s not his friend,” Leah says.
Kyle nudges me. “You are. We all are. Max’ll come around, but for now, we’re gonna have to ride it out. We’ll be there for him in the best ways we know how.”
I nod. I can do that. I can exist in Max’s world the way I used to.…
As a friend.
16
THE MONDAY AFTER WINTER BREAK, I CATCH a ride home from school with Leah, then wait in the living room, watching out the window for Leo’s Tahoe to pull into the Holdens’ driveway. Max’s truck hasn’t moved since his clash with Officer Tate, but Ivy’s car is gone and so is Marcy’s, which means Bill’s not home, either. This is a good thing … I think.
Meredith wanders in and out of the living room, biding time, I guess, trying to engage me in conversation. While I’m putting extra effort into being kind as her pregnancy winds down—the leech baby is siphoning her energy like nobody’s business—I’m too anxious for mindless chitchat.
Finally, Leo’s SUV veers into the Holdens’ driveway. I can hear the heavy thump of his music’s bass even from inside the house. Max climbs out, lifts his hand in a wave, then makes his way to the front door. Even though my heart’s doing nervous pirouettes, I allow him five minutes—who knows what boys do when they get home from school?—then give Meredith a bogus excuse about needing to borrow a recipe from Marcy and jog across the street.
I have to ring the bell twice before Max opens the door. To say he’s confused when he sees me standing on the porch would be a major understatement.
“Uh, hey,” he says, running a hand through his hair.
His lack of enthusiastic welcome isn’t a surprise, but it makes me even more nervous. Doesn’t matter, though—I’m not going to botch this. I’m going to say what I came to say, and then I’m going to let him make the next move.
I breeze past him, right into the house, which smells of fresh baking, like ginger and nutmeg. He trails me to the kitchen, eyeing me like my intrusion is possibly perilous. I open the fridge and root around inside, mentally reviewing my Be Max’s Friend plan until I find two cans of Coke. I pull them out and hold one out to him. “Thirsty?”
“I guess.” He takes the can, pops the top, then hands it back to me.
“Thanks,” I say, trading. I like this about him—his instinctual chivalry—and I find myself smiling as I watch him open the second soda for himself.
He takes a swig, then leans back against the countertop. “What’re you doing here, Jill?”
“I came to see how your first day back to school was.” I say this like it’s nothing—like I drop by to check in on him all the time.
He shrugs. “Predictable.”
“And your New Year?”
“I stayed home, a choice that wasn’t well-received by … some.”
Becky. I’m intrigued by this knowledge that he bowed out despite her disapproval. Kind of makes me want to raise my arms in victory.
“I stayed home, too,” I tell him. “I baked soft pretzels. Meredith ate four, positively drenched in mustard.”
He gives me a tentative smile. “Sounds like a good time. What about your dad?”
“He was out of town. A work thing.” Dad and I are still up and down, but that didn’t keep me from feeling for him, all alone in some stark hotel room as the clock struck midnight. Made me sad.
Still makes me sad.
“Jill,” Max says, sliding a step closer. “You okay?”
I nod because, yeah, of course I’m okay. My dad went away on business. He’s back now, and everything’s fine.
Except, Max is standing right beside me, and we’re in his empty house, and my hands are shaking even as they clutch my Coke can. How on God’s green earth did I think this was a good idea? How can Max and I be friends when I’m hyperaware of the energy crackling between us? When I know how his kisses make my skin sing?
I hate this panicky, quivering thing my stomach does in his proximity now.