Beyond Eighteen(9)

I shook those thoughts from my head. Right then I had to get out to her and Joanie. Shit, they must be frozen solid by now. I rolled Wilson’s suitcase out into the bitter, freezing air. As I crossed the front porch, Wilson was climbing the stairs with Joanie following behind her. She stopped on the steps as if her feet were glued to the stone. Her nose and cheeks were rosy from the ruthless chill of Aspen. Her eyes widened as she looked up at me and I noticed she was staring at my hands. She took a step up toward me just as I clutched her suitcase in my arms and started down the steps.

“I thought I told you to get in the car,” I growled as I walked past her.

“What happened to your hands?” Wilson asked from behind me.

I ignored her question.





“Why aren’t you in the car?” I refuted.

“It was locked,” Joanie volunteered sheepishly as she stood looking uncomfortable in her own stance.

“Where’s your suitcase?” I demanded, looking at Joanie as I opened the trunk and loaded Wilson’s stuff. I noticed her eyes were glued to the cuts and gashes on my hands.

“Over there,” she said as she pointed at it. She stood awkwardly before she shuffled toward the passenger’s side of the car.

“Are you going to answer me? What did you do to your hands?” Wilson asked from behind me. I heard her feet clomp against the asphalt driveway.

“Let’s just get out of here. I’ll explain later,” I said without making eye contact. I knew the influence she had over me and I didn’t want to lose any control I had over my emotions by looking at her. I just needed to get the hell away from that house.

I pressed my hands against the open trunk lid and felt the pain drain past my knuckles, into my hands, through my wrists, and down into my forearms. I really didn’t feel like getting into what had gone down with Nick, while still standing in the driveway at the Browlers’ house. I lowered one hand and motioned for Joanie’s suitcase. She didn’t move.

“Max?” I heard Wilson’s trembling voice behind me.

I slammed the trunk shut and stood motionless, my hands pushing on the back of the car, my head lowered. God, I wish she wouldn’t say my name that way. Her vulnerability bled into every cell of my body. I wanted to tell her how much I hurt. How much pain was ripping through my body—pain that was magnified by mistakes she made. But I couldn’t find a way to say it. It was easier to shut down. If she’d just let me work through this the best way I know how…

“Are you going to look at me?” she whispered.

I didn’t move. I felt the thick, heavy moment weigh between us.

“I just want to take you home,” I said resolutely before I turned to face her. “Can I take you home with me now…please?” I continued intently. I knew if I didn’t get her away from the Browlers’ before I told her what I’d done to Nick, she’d end up running back in there to him. And I just couldn’t handle that.

“I’m going to stay here,” Joanie piped up.

My intense trance on Wilson was broken by Joanie’s voice.

“Wilson, I think you guys need some time alone,” Joanie continued in a whisper as she busied herself with the handle on her suitcase.

“No, J, you’re coming home with us,” Wilson insisted.

“No, Wil, I’m not. You’ll be fine. You both need some time alone, and I…well, it’s better if I stay here. I’ll call you later. Promise,” Joanie muttered as she crossed her heart with her finger before she leaned in and hugged Wilson.

I walked around to the passenger’s side of the car and pulled open the door before I held my hand out to Wilson, my way of asking her to come with me.

Wilson stared at Joanie, lost to words that wouldn’t be said between them. She walked over to me. We didn’t say a word as she slipped into my car. After making sure she was securely buckled in and the door was shut, I walked back to where Joanie and her suitcase were waiting.

“Whenever you decide to call Wilson…don’t tell her about—Nick. Please, just…let me,” I said in a husky tone.

“Oh, kay,” Joanie said, caught off guard. Worry clung to her expression.

I nodded my head and was about to walk away when I felt the need to thank her for taking care of Wilson when I couldn’t.

“And, Joanie? Thanks,” I mumbled.

“For what?” she retorted without missing a beat.

“Taking care of Wilson, when…I—”

“I just wish I’d gotten here sooner,” Joanie interrupted.

“Yeah, me too. Before Nick—” I stopped short from finishing my sentence. Then I turned and walked away.