“You okay?” Max whispered. I tried to answer him but couldn’t find the words. All I could do was press my face deeper into the bend of his neck. He leaned in so his chin draped and rested softly against my head.
“Hmmm?” he purred. I could feel his voice rumble in his chest and through his throat.
I shook my head up and down.
“Wilson, listen,” he said as he pulled me away and looked me in the eyes. “We don’t have to lie to my family any more. We don’t have to live in the fear of being discovered, ever again. As hard as it was to lose you, I’m glad my family knows now.” His eyes dampened just enough to cause them to glow in the fluorescent light of the garage.
“So you and Calvin made peace?” His brother’s name sliced my esophagus as I spoke it.
“I was…oh, man, I was pissed. But, we had to deal with the death of our father and the pain in our mother’s face every time she looked at us. So we talked, and yelled, and talked some more before we both found a way to forgive each other. No, I can’t be mad at him; besides, he felt like shit afterwards.” Max pressed his lips to my forehead.
I closed my eyes and felt the warm tears track down the surface of my glacial cheeks. “God, I know how that feels,” I choked.
Max pulled away from my forehead. His natural green eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tightened, and his lips were pulled across his perfect white teeth. His ears crested red around the edges. I could tell I struck a chord deep within him.
“What does that mean?” he growled.
The blood in my face flushed down into my neck and every last drop of saliva dissolved in the back of my throat.
“I know how it feels to make a huge mistake. How incredibly stupid choices tend to hurt the people we love the most.” I lowered my head. I couldn’t look at him.
“Well, sometimes stupid choices are the only things that make us realize where we truly belong,” Max said as his fingers pushed under my chin, bringing my eyes to meet his.
“Yeah, but you had to resign because of me. How is that going to make you feel when you go back and see that you gave up your career for me?” My voice quivered.
Max tilted his head, his eyes wide with surprise and glowing with shock. His lips curved, loaded with every word he was ready to fire back at me. We faced each other for a silent moment before he bit his bottom lip and unloaded every thought he must have played over and over in his mind.
“I didn’t quit my job because of you, Wilson. I quit my job for us. I resigned because giving up the one thing that makes my life worth living wasn’t an option. I am completely aware and understand the repercussions of my actions and I’m ready to live with them. I know being with you was ethically wrong. I know when people at Wesley find out I will have to live with their fucked-up judgment of me for the rest of my life. But, Wilson, in my heart, in—my—soul, I know we’re right; this is perfectly right.” Max grabbed my hands and pushed them against his chest. His heart was thundering against his sternum.
“I just don’t want you to resent me,” I managed to breathe.
“How can I resent the one person who I love more than anything?” Max whispered.
“Anything?” I asked.
“Anything,” he answered as he wrapped his arms around me and swooped in, pressing his lips against mine. His mouth was so sweet, so needed, and so perfectly and completely mine.
Chapter Eight
~ Max ~
“You ready?” I said quickly before I ran my hands down Wilson’s arms to her biceps, clenching them as I leaned in and kissed her forehead.
“Yeah, I’m ready. As long as I have you next to me.”
I smiled at her, tugging every muscle in my face toward the ceiling before I opened the door to the kitchen. The spring made the same high-pitched, annoying squeak my father would always complain about when we’d come home. Huh, funny how one day it’s just an annoying squeak and the next it’s one of the most comforting sounds I could hear.
I was glad when I pulled Wilson into the house and nobody bombarded us. As a matter of fact, the house seemed quieter than usual. I didn’t call out to my family. I just kept looking back at Wilson to make sure she was still breathing.
After the door shut, she stopped and our hands broke apart. She smiled as she looked down at her feet. Habits die hard; no matter how new they are. I chuckled. I knew she wanted to take off her boots.
I bent down, ready to pick up her foot when I heard hurried footsteps approaching from the dining room. I recognized them; they were my mom’s. 4…3…2…1, she shuffled around the corner. She was still swathed in her black mourning dress but her hair was up and her black shoes were replaced with my dad’s leather slippers. She looked so vulnerable.