To Have It All(41)

Tilting his head, he looked at me, his mouth curving up on one side as if something had just occurred to him. “At the moment, no. Would you like to come with me to buy one?”

I snorted because I knew he was kidding. When he continued to stare at me, his brows raised in question, I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“Why would you want to go out and buy a motorcycle today of all days?”

“Why not today?” he pondered as he lifted Pim. “Today’s as good as any other day.”

I had no idea what was happening. I was only trying to make conversation, and now we were going to buy a motorcycle? I was exhausted trying to keep up with it all.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I sighed deciding not to entertain his ridiculous suggestion. I scooted and tried to stand when Max held out his hand. “Let me help you.”

My gaze darted from his hand to his face. I wanted to smack his hand away; tell him I didn’t need his help. It may have taken me longer, but I knew I could stand on my own. What use was there in rejecting his help? Like I said, hate is heavy, and it doesn’t hurt anyone but the person giving it. Taking his hand, my body tensed, bowing, as a sensation tingled through me. We both paused, staring at where our hands were joined. What was this? Did he feel it, too? After a moment, he gently pulled me up, and I somehow managed not to spill my coffee. Once I was balanced, he took my mug so I could grab my crutches. Neither of us acknowledged the moment . . . how could we? I realized that since I met Max at The Mill a few nights before, we hadn’t touched once.

Taking a step back he ran a hand through his hair. He suddenly became fascinated with the floor as he stared at it. “You need help getting to the bathroom?” He knew I didn’t, but I could tell he just wanted to say something, anything, to move past the moment.

“I got it. Thanks. You good with watching Pim while I shower?” I jutted my chin toward Pim.

Looking down at Pim, he smirked. “I think I can handle it.”





When Helen arrived that morning, we all ate pancakes, and the conversation stayed cordial. Helen was a huge help in not only aiding me in making small talk with Waverly but also helping me learn things about Waverly that Max would know—or should know. Thanks to my extremely inquisitive sister, I discovered Waverly was in school studying to become a social worker; her mother had bailed on her father, leaving him with two kids when Waverly was only three; and her Dad passed away five years before.

“Sounds like you’ve had a tough time,” Helen told her as she took her plate.

Waverly tilted her head. “Matt and I have always had each other. I’m thankful for that.” Then, almost perking up, she asked, “Where’s your family? Do you have any siblings?”

Helen let her gaze drop as she cleared her throat. Cutting a quick glance to me, she answered, “A brother. Our parents have been gone a long while, too.”

Waverly let out a weighted sigh. “I’m sorry. Are you and your brother close?”

“We are. He’s a great guy,” Helen replied with a loving tone, her mouth curving into the slightest smirk. “A dumbass sometimes, but still great.”

I rolled my eyes where only Helen could see. She thought she was hilarious.

“Where is he?” Waverly continued, undeterred by Helen’s vagueness. Apparently, Helen wasn’t the only inquisitive one in the room.

“Actually . . .” Helen murmured, pausing briefly as she glanced my way, a short flicker of panic in her eyes. She had no idea what to say.

Widening my eyes, I warned her not to say a damn word about me in the hospital.

“He’s here and there,” she finished, taking my hint. The answer was as vague as it gets, but in a technical way, it was true. I was here and there.

When Waverly’s mouth flattened, I decided to change the subject. It was clear she wanted more information and was frustrated Helen wasn’t giving it to her. Before I could find a good topic to switch us to, the doorbell ring.

“I’ve got it,” Helen announced as she practically flew out of her seat from the table, desperate to escape Waverly’s mild interrogation.

“That’s so sad about her brother,” Waverly asserted, her gaze fixed on me as she rested her chin in her hand, her elbow on the table. “Is he in New York?” With Helen gone, I guessed she was now turning her interrogation on me.

Clearing my throat, I stood and gathered the syrup and strawberries from the table. “He is in New York.” The answer was vague, like Helen’s answers, and when Waverly’s mouth flattened, I could tell she wasn’t happy about it.

“More coffee?” I asked.

Sliding her mug toward me, she huffed, “Yes.”

Taking her cup, I went into the kitchen and stopped when I saw Helen round the corner from the foyer. Her brows were furrowed, her eyes narrowed as she spoke.

“There’s someone at the door for you,” she stated slowly, letting me know to be wary. I tilted my head in question to which she widened her eyes, telling me not to ask her who. “I’ll finish cleaning up.”

As I passed by her, she whispered, “I’ll keep her busy, but you need to get rid of them quickly.”

Shaking my head, I shrugged, my silent way of asking, Who?