Out. Of. Her. Mind.
“Talk to me, Emma.” His tone pitched at the end, revealing his desperation, and it almost broke the shield around her heart. He cared—really cared.
But not for long.
“Why are you mad? Was it the kiss?” He was starting to look angry now, too, probably because she couldn’t make herself speak. Her mind wouldn’t shut up, but her lips refused to open and say what she’d buried for so long. “I’m sorry if I rushed you. If it was too—”
“That’s not it.” There, finally, her voice. She held up her hand, wanting to touch him but knowing it’d just be pouring fuel on the fire she was about to light. “The kiss was...well. It was.” Wonderful. Perfect. Everything she’d missed since their last one years ago. But the desire seeped and soaked underneath layers of bitterness she thought she’d rid herself of, yet apparently, had only been hiding.
“What’s my fault?” He stabbed his fingers through his hair, drawing the rumples even higher. “I don’t get it, Emma. I was trying to reassure you that Cody’s choices aren’t your fault, and you spin it around on me? You know I’ve done nothing but try to help him this entire time. And he’s making progress. I don’t understand why you’re so—”
“You’re right. You don’t understand.” Her stomach cramped. “There’s something you don’t know.” She wanted to pray, wanted to beg God to take this situation away, just make it disappear—but there was no way. This was her choice. Her sin. Her consequences.
Coming full circle.
Hadn’t she paid enough?
“If there’s a missing puzzle piece here, then please, by all means fill me in.” He spread his arms to the side, his expression as haphazard as his hair.
Guilt shook her insides. She’d pushed him to his own limit, what with their exhausting day, their kiss and half-spoken declarations, and now her random—in his eyes, at least—freak-out.
He stilled and lowered his voice. “I told you from the beginning the more I know about these campers and their home lives and their backgrounds, the better equipped I am to make a difference.”
“You made a difference all right.” Ah. There was her alternating archenemy and best friend, Resentment, bubbling to the surface. She could psychoanalyze herself down to her own core, but somehow, she felt helpless to put into practice the advice she’d give her clients. This was too deep.
His eyes narrowed. “Quit with the riddles, Emma. Shoot straight.”
Straight? Fine. Right to his heart. “You’re Cody’s dad.”
* * *
Max had never told anyone this before, not even Brady, but he’d always secretly enjoyed the story of Alice in Wonderland. He’d discovered it in school, when a librarian read it to his class over a series of afternoons, and he’d carried those images with him for life. There was something appealing about it—though at the time, he’d not been masculine enough to admit it—about falling into an alternate reality, where cats grinned, and rabbits carried watches, and flamingos served as croquet mallets. Where nothing was as it seemed. Where anything could be possible—like finding a father who actually cared.
He never thought about how Alice must have felt tumbling down the hole to get there.
He knew now.