An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(102)

His mind reeled, never slowing down, or shutting the hell up long enough for him to fall into a deep sleep. It was relentless.

The last good night’s sleep he’d had—f*ck . . . he’d slept next to Grace.

With that thought, Max shoved the covers away in frustration, grabbed a pair of sleep pants from his bag, and snuck out of the bedroom into the apartment, his bare feet quiet on the wooden floor. Making his way into the apartment proper, where the kitchen was set off from the living room, Max stutter-stepped when he realized Kat was also awake, sitting at the breakfast bar where he and Carter had found her when they arrived, the small light from under the stove hood the only illumination. She looked up, seemingly unsurprised to see him there.

“Hey. Everything okay?” she asked before he could turn and run.

He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Um . . . can’t sleep.”

“Me either.” She looked back down at the book lying open on the bar. She turned a page. “Wedding plans are not conducive to a good night’s sleep.” She smirked. “Except if your name is Wesley Carter.” Her eyes found the direction of their bedroom. “Man could sleep through World War Three.”

Max smiled. “He always was a heavy sleeper.”

Kat sighed. “Do you want a hot drink? I have cocoa. I was just debating whether or not to have one to help me sleep.”

Max took another step closer, warmed by her sincerity. “Sure.”

He watched Kat lift from her seat and start moving around the kitchen, grabbing milk, cocoa powder, and cups. He parked his ass on the seat opposite hers and glanced down at what she’d been reading. It was a wedding catalog.

“Carter tell you that I’m driving him crazy with all this?” She gestured with a wave of her hand toward a pile of dried flowers, ribbons, fabric samples, and other terrifying wedding-type horrors sitting on the kitchen counter.

“No,” Max replied quickly.

Kat caught his eyes. “You’re as bad a liar as he is.”

Max snorted quietly. “He may have mentioned it. But he just wants you to be happy.”

He saw a smile pull at the side of her mouth as she poured hot water into the cups. “I am.” She brought the cups over, placing one in front of him. “See that drawer by your knees?”

Max looked down, noticing a hole in the wood of the breakfast bar big enough for the tip of an index finger. “Yeah.”

“Open it, would you?”

Max did as she asked and grinned when he saw what was in it. Packs of Oreos, chocolate with Oreo pieces, and all manner of other cookie treats filled the drawer. He looked up at her with wide, amazed eyes. “This his secret stash?”

Kat shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. “He thinks it’s secret. Just like the one in his man cave at the beach house.”

Max pulled out a pack of Oreos. “Bastard would never give up where he kept them. It was always a nightmare when we partied here and got a mad case of the munchies.”

He tore the pack open, taking one for himself, and offered them over to Kat. She took one and dipped it into her cocoa.

“How’d you get it out of him?”

Kat smiled into her cup. “I didn’t. I have ninja-level stealth skills.”

Max nodded, impressed. “Nice.”

“I’m marrying him; I know everything there is to know.”

Yeah, just like he and Lizzie had been. Max’s smile faded. He sipped his cocoa as a feeling of panic and anxiety, the likes of which he’d not felt since before rehab, skittered across his neck.

“I’m sure it’ll be all right,” Kat said, her face open and honest, apparently seeing the stress he was trying so hard to hide. “Whatever you decide.”

Max swallowed and rested his elbows on the breakfast bar between them. “Carter told you everything, huh?”

“Does that bother you?” Kat asked cautiously.

Max thought about it for a moment, but shook his head. “I’m glad he has you.”

They sat then in comfortable silence, eating cookies and drinking cocoa, before Max said, “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Kat’s gaze snapped to his, surprise prevalent. “An idiot? I—I’m not sure—”

Max held a hand up, smiling. “It’s okay. Honestly.” He shrugged. “I know we’ve never really . . . talked or anything, but I’d like to hear what you think. I know Carter thinks I’m crazy coming back.” He laced his fingers around his cup, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the world. “Am I f*ckin’ stupid for even thinking of doing this?”

Kat sat back, as though carefully considering her answer. Her green eyes were intense on him and, for a split second, Grace’s face flashed in Max’s mind. He blinked slowly, waiting.

“I think . . .” Kat started. She glanced at her cup and gradually sat forward. “I think that you need to do what you feel is right.”

Max exhaled in frustration and opened his mouth to tell Kat what a crock-of-shit answer that was. She held up her palm and cocked an eyebrow. “I haven’t finished.”

He could clearly see what Carter loved so much about her; she was sassy and Max was damn sure she put Carter in his place all the time.

“I also think that you’re very brave,” she added.