There was a gentle knock on the front door that Grace considered ignoring. She didn't want to see anyone. It would take only a small question, a sympathetic glance and she'd fall apart. With a sigh, she lifted from the sofa and made her way to the front door.
Max stood on her porch, head down, hands in his jeans pockets, looking as bad as Grace felt. He looked up as she opened the door. Seeing him, hair in disarray, desperate for a shave along with the memory of his body over hers, Grace found her legs suddenly shaky, and leaned subtly against the door's edge for support.
"Hey," she said, her voice small. She glanced at the hidden key spot. "Thanks for knocking."
He swallowed and nodded sharply. His eyes were still wary, still confused and scared, and it broke Grace's heart.
"Do you want to come in?"
He shook his head. "No," he replied quickly, throwing a thumb over his shoulder toward a very flashy-looking car, inside of which was Carter. "I'm not staying."
Grace let the heavy meaning behind his words settle into her. She bit her lip to hold back her panic. "Not staying here"-she pointed toward the floor-"or not staying in Preston County?"
Max's eyes darted to the side before they settled on her again. "Both."
Grace's breath stuttered as it entered her lungs. "Where are you going?"
He licked his lips, looking for a moment as if he intended not to tell her. "Back to New York."
"For good?"
"I don't know, Grace," he growled, looking toward the sky as though asking God for strength. "I'm just . . . shit. I need to go, all right?"
Grace's pulse kicked up, his tone and abrasive attitude no longer hurting but angering her. She didn't deserve it. She'd done nothing but care for him. "Yeah, all right. I mean, it makes sense for you to go."
Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"
"Well, you have always been good at running," she commented sharply, arching an eyebrow at him when his shoulders lifted in anger. "What?" she challenged. "You don't think I can see what you're doing?"
Max laughed humorlessly, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You don't see anything. You have no idea."
"Then why don't you explain it to me?" she said bluntly, standing tall, no longer needing the door. "You owe me that much."
His nostrils flared, but she saw the realization of what she said being true wash across his face. He took a deep breath and looked toward his boots, avoiding her pointed look. "Lizzie."
Grace's eyes widened. "Lizzie?"
Max nodded. "Carter brought a letter she wrote me . . ." He lifted his head. He looked so exhausted. "She wants me to meet her. She wants to talk."
Grace was struck dumb. That was the last thing she expected him to say and that changed things. Massively. The fight in her slowly began to ebb away.
With everything that Max had told her about Lizzie and what happened between them, of course it made sense for him to go to her. He would need closure after everything he'd been through. He deserved that. Still, a dark part of Grace couldn't help but wonder if Lizzie's letter was the escape Max needed to get away, to run instead of talking about what had happened the previous night.
Beneath the understanding, cold realization settled in her chest. "So you're meeting her?"
Max rubbed the tips of his fingers across his forehead. "No, I'm not, I- Maybe, I don't even know if I will, I just . . ."
Grace swallowed and when she spoke her voice was careful and quiet. "Came here because you want me to tell you it's okay to go."
Max's face creased with incredulity. "What?"
She smiled sadly, resignation slithering through her.
He didn't want her. Not in the way she wanted him. He was too busy clinging to a past to see what was right in front of him and, honestly, she was simply too tired to keep trying to convince him she was right for him.
"I get it, Max, I do," she uttered honestly. "It's important that you two speak. She has a lot to explain, a lot to apologize for. You deserve that."
He frowned, his eyes suspicious. "Yeah, I do."
Grace nodded, pressing her lips together to hold back the desperate words that threatened: I love you, come back to me, stop running.
Instead she said, "Will you tell me something before you go?"
Max sighed, glancing back at Carter's car. "Sure."
"Tell me you didn't feel something last night. Tell me it meant nothing to you."
He stared at her for a moment, his jaw ticking. She knew she'd backed him into a corner and he didn't like it, but she had to know he felt what they'd shared. Of course, it made no difference; she was under no illusions that he was leaving no matter what, but at least she'd know that last night was something special for both of them.