Just as Tate had predicted, Carter and Kat were both eager for him to do what was necessary to get better, and if that meant he had to leave and stay with his uncle Vince for a while, then so be it. The panic attack that the two of them had witnessed had undoubtedly revealed how far from recovery Max actually was. After Tate had researched and organized a nearby NA meeting for Max to attend, as well as having him placed back on Elliot's list of regular patients at his office in Pittsburgh, Max was set to go within a couple of days. He immediately started to feel better, less stressed, more at ease in his own skin.
His feet pounded the forest floor, his knees and legs burning, while the smell of freshly fallen rain filled his lungs like precious elixir. Following the path down toward the main road, Max slowed and jogged into town, back toward the boardinghouse. Uncle Vince had been more than a little surprised by the phone call Max had made to ask if he could visit. They'd not seen each other for almost eight years-not since Max's father's funeral-but Max knew he'd be welcomed with open arms. Despite Vince not being a relation by blood, he and Max's father had grown up together, always treating each other and their families as true brothers would.
"Maximus Asshat!"
Max came to an abrupt stop at the familiar nickname. He turned to his left where the shout had come from, staring across the street to see his cousin Ruby standing outside her auto body shop, arms open wide.
"Ruby Tuesday!" He flew at her like a bullet, making her squeak in surprise, and grabbed her before she could make a run for it, squeezing her tightly.
"Dad said you were in town," she said with a laugh, hugging him back. "How the hell are you?"
"I'm good," he replied, putting her back down on the ground. "How're you? What the fuck's this I hear about you getting married? I met your hubby when I went to work with your dad yesterday."
She blushed crimson, pushing a hand through her cropped brown hair, and nodded. "Three months." She held out her left hand, the diamond on her third finger small but elegant. "Josh and I sent you an invitation, but . . . I guess you weren't home."
The smile on Max's face dropped minutely. He sighed, knowing that all the dirty details of the past eight years he'd shared with his uncle the day he'd arrived would have been passed on to Ruby within hours. Not that he minded. He'd prefer his family knew the shit he'd done. Nevertheless, small towns were funny places, and variations of his dirty laundry had no doubt been aired several times since his appearance. "Yeah," he replied. "I was . . . unavailable. Sorry."
Ruby placed a hand on his chest and lowered her voice. "But you're getting better?"
"Slowly but surely." Max smiled tentatively.
Ruby's gray eyes softened. "I'm glad." They hugged again, only breaking apart when one of Ruby's workers whistled loudly.
"There she is," a dude with shoulder-length blond hair and tattooed knuckles exclaimed as he stared across the street. "My little RiRi."
Max turned in curiosity to see the same girl who worked behind the bar his uncle had taken him and his other workers to the previous night. She scurried down the street, white earbuds in her ears, a large bag slung over her shoulder, wearing black jeans and a yellow sweater that complemented her dark skin. Her black hair was back in a ponytail that swung from side to side as she walked.
"RiRi?" Max asked with a cocked eyebrow, his stare following the object of Blond Guy's blatant affections.
"Yeah," the man replied with a lascivious lick of his lips. "Her name's Grace, but she looks just like Rihanna, right?"
"No, Buck," Ruby interjected with an eye roll. "She doesn't." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "She's softer somehow, less sex and more warm hugs." She pushed Buck's arm. "Now quit your hollerin' and get back to work. You'll scare the poor girl to death."
"Oh, man, you wanna see her up close," Buck continued, looking at Max. "Green eyes, mocha skin. Damn fine ass." He wandered back toward an '89 Buick, shaking his head.
Max wasn't knowledgeable enough to comment on the ass thing, not having seen it clearly, but he understood the remark about Grace's eyes. She'd looked at him over the bar last night, the green of her eyes bright and stunning. He'd been momentarily hypnotized by her when they'd entered Whiskey's, and was only shunted from his trance when she'd smiled.
It was, for sure, a very pretty smile, but Max couldn't allow himself to ponder on that too much. He was there to clear his head, not become even more muddled by a strange girl who'd sent an alluring look his way. Of course, he'd be more than happy to satisfy his male urges by fucking her into oblivion if she asked, but just from looking at her for the brief time he had, he knew she wasn't that type of girl. Ruby was right. There was a softness about her. There was too much innocence in those eyes, and maybe a hint of fear, which he was glad of, if it meant she kept her distance.