Afraid to Fly (Anchor Point #2)(40)

She absently tapped her cigarette pack on the railing. "I just don't want to see you jump ship and miss out on something amazing. Being with someone means there's always a chance you could lose them. And the more you love them, the more it'll hurt if you do lose them. But some people are worth that risk."

If it were anyone else on the planet, I'd have mentioned that was easy to say. But Maxine knew exactly what she was talking about, and exactly what a person could lose by taking that risk.

I tapped my cigarette over the ashtray. "You're right. And I guess . . . I mean, I guess I'll see where things go."

She smiled. "That's all you can do. And for what it's worth, I hope things work out with him."

I returned the smile but said nothing.

"Well." She nodded toward the house. "Should we go see how those two are doing without responsible adults present?" 

That broke the tension enough for me to laugh. "Good idea." I finished my cigarette, put it out, and followed her inside.

Clint and Charlie had moved into the kitchen and were cleaning up from dinner. Charlie was loading the dishwasher while Clint was scrubbing out a pan. They both glanced at us, nodded in acknowledgment, and went right back to their conversation.

I stopped in my tracks. One look at the two of them took my breath away. It was like seeing my past life and my current one colliding right there in Charlie's kitchen. The man I'd torn up the skies with until that all went down in flames, and the man who I . . .

The man I was quickly . . .

Oh my God. You fit right into this world. It's like you belong here.

I looked at Maxine. She met my eyes with that knowing look on her face, and as warmth rushed into my cheeks, she smothered a chuckle.

I started to mutter something snide about her smugness when Clint went to take a step, and his foot caught on a wheel.

He stumbled. The wheelchair jerked to one side.

Charlie grabbed the counter, and so did Clint, and they both froze for a second.

"Shit." Clint stared at Charlie in horror. "My God. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Relax." Charlie waved a hand. "I trip over it all the time."

"You . . ." Clint blinked. "Wait, what?"

Charlie snorted and clapped Clint's arm. "I'm fucking with you. Don't worry about it." He paused and must have seen the horror still on Clint's face. "Seriously, it's no big deal."

"Oh. Okay." Clint exhaled.

"Relax, honey," Maxine said. "We've all done it. In fact, it's pretty much a rite of passage."

"Yep, she's right." Charlie paused to pour detergent in the dishwasher. "So I guess your initiation is complete."

Clint shook his head. To me, he said, "I'm starting to see why you get along with them."

Charlie, Maxine, and I all nodded, murmuring in agreement. Wasn't like any of us could argue-we were some smart-assed little peas in a pod.

And you fit right in, Clint, so don't judge.

I gulped.

He did, didn't he?

So what? Just means we're all going to get along while we're in town. Quit reading so much into it.

I cleared my throat. "Can I help with anything?"

"Nope." Charlie shut the dishwasher and turned it on. "We're almost done in here. If you two want to have a seat in the living room, we can get some coffee."

"Sounds good to me," I said.

"I'll get the coffee." Maxine shooed the three of us out of the kitchen. "You boys go sit down."

While she prepared the coffee, Charlie hoisted himself onto the couch, and Clint and I took the same places where we'd been sitting earlier. A moment later, she joined us, and over coffee, they continued effortlessly chatting like we'd been doing all day.

I sat this one out, though. As the three of them talked, I let my gaze shift from Clint to Charlie to Maxine and back.

I still remembered when Charlie had first met Maxine. We'd been dumb kids, and even then I'd envied their relationship from the start. I'd only ever fallen in love like that once-with Dion.

Then Maxine had nearly lost Charlie. And even though Dion and I hadn't been together, I'd still loved him so much it hurt, and losing him had been a type of hell I wouldn't have wished on my worst enemy.

The first couple of years after the crash, none of us had been sure if Charlie and Maxine's marriage would survive. It had been such an enormous upheaval, and the adjustment had taken its toll on both of them. With some time and the help of a counselor who specialized in disabled veterans, though, they'd pulled together and come out stronger on the other side. The crash and its aftermath had tested them at every turn, that was for sure, but they'd made it through the worst. Almost twenty years together, with more hell behind them than most couples ever faced, and they still looked at each other like newlyweds.



       
         
       
        

I'd eventually gotten back on my feet after losing Dion, but I'd been alone ever since. But it didn't mean I didn't want to fall in love. I did. Very much. I wanted what Maxine and Charlie had. I envied them. I wanted that. I wanted to know what it was like to be that much in love with someone, but I'd been terrified to go there because my one taste of it had nearly destroyed me.

Even now, all these years later, the prospect of being that much in love scared the shit out of me.

So did the fact that every time I looked at Clint, my heart sped up.

Oh shit . . .





I barely touched dinner on Christmas Day. I told them I was still stuffed from the enormous breakfast they'd cooked in the morning, and everyone seemed to buy that. Well, maybe not Travis-he'd eyed me from across the table, but he didn't say anything.

When the clock said seven, I excused myself to the guest room, and while they all relaxed in the living room, I fired up my laptop.

As it always did, my gut wound itself into knots as the Skype call initiated. The screen came to life, and I couldn't help smiling.

"Hey guys," I said to my three kids, who were crowded in front of the camera.

"Hey, Dad," they said in unison. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." Oh God, don't get emotional. Keep it together. "You guys having a good Christmas?"

They regaled me with everything they'd been doing since we last talked. My ex-in-laws had been to visit recently, and the kids were going down to Phoenix next week to see my mom and stepdad. It was hard to hear about some of our family Christmas traditions-the chocolate oranges in their stockings, the annual addition to the Disney DVD collection, spending Christmas Eve in pajamas while watching the original Grinch-but the kids were all smiles. That was the important part. The first Christmas after the divorce had been rough. The one before that had apparently been a disaster too, but I didn't remember any of it. Last year was better. This year . . . well, I couldn't ask for much more than this.

They thanked me for the gifts I'd sent, which had apparently arrived on time. That was an improvement over last year. While they watched, I opened the package their mother had sent on their behalf.

"Oh wow." My throat tightened as I pulled out the framed photo of the three of them grinning in goofy sunglasses. They'd each written their names on the frame, and it was a recent photo, since Crystal had lost both her front teeth. I forced my emotions to stay solid, and smiled at my kids. "This is great. I'm going to put it on my desk when I get back to work."

After they took off to go play with their new toys, their mother took their place in front of the camera. 

"Hey," she said.

"Hey." I took a breath. "Merry Christmas, Mandy."

"Merry Christmas." She leaned closer to the camera and squinted. "Where are you? That doesn't look like your apartment."

"No, I'm, uh . . ." I glanced around as if I'd never seen this place myself. "I'm in San Diego. A friend invited me along for the holiday."

Her lips tightened, and she sat up again. "So that's why you aren't coming to see us."

It took all the self-control I had not to roll my eyes. "You told me-repeatedly-you didn't think the kids were ready for that. Where was I supposed to go?"

"I . . ." She chewed her lip. "I guess I didn't . . ."

"Was I supposed to stay home alone?" I asked coolly. "I can't at least try to enjoy Christmas?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. Slowly, she deflated, and then she shook her head. "You're right. I'm sorry. I guess sometimes I forget you're . . ."

Our eyes locked.

Alone? Not allowed to come near my family outside of scheduled visits? Exiled?

I muffled a cough. "It's all right."

"No, it's not." She sighed. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. You're . . . I hope you're having a good time."

"I am." It was all I could do not to tell her exactly why I was having a good time. Now that I was seeing Travis, I desperately wanted to tell her, but . . . not now. Not on Christmas. Things were tense enough, and this wasn't the time to drop a bomb on her.

I couldn't even put my finger on why I thought she wouldn't take it well. She wasn't a homophobe by any means. Her older brother was gay, and he'd come out after being married to a woman for quite a few years, so she'd seen this kind of thing play out before. She hadn't rejected him or been angry with him. On the other hand, she had made some comments about not being able to imagine being her brother's now-ex-wife.