Picking Up the Pieces (Pieces, #2)(52)

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I did want to. But I just wasn’t sure where I stood with him. I’d been giving a lot of thought to our friendship, and I was starting to think that maybe it wasn’t worth everything I was sacrificing for it. I enjoyed hanging out with him, but was that enough? I had already lost Adam once because I was wrapped up in having "fun" with Max. And I just couldn’t justify losing who was potentially the love of my life for someone who was just a good time once in a while. In fact, I was pretty sure doing so would make me the dumbest motherf*cker on the planet.

But this is Max we’re talking about here. I tried to envision my life without him in it and I just couldn’t. He was like a dejected little kitten who lived in the alleyway behind your house. Once you fed him and showed him a little kindness, he laid claim to you, whether you wanted him to or not. And while being Max’s wasn’t as important to me as being Adam’s, it was still something I couldn’t just throw away. Could I?

This shit was like a bad soap opera. I needed to stop harping about it and do something productive with my time. But as I pulled the covers over my head and drifted off to sleep, I decided that being productive could wait until the next day.

Though I didn’t expect the next day to begin with my cell phone blaring at three in the morning. The caustic ring echoed through my quiet bedroom and jolted me awake. I fumbled for my phone and glanced at the name on the caller ID. Max Samson.

“Someone had better be dead. Preferably you,” I grumbled into the phone.

“Well look who finally decided to talk to me,” Max slurred slightly.

“Are you seriously drunk dialing me right now?” I was suddenly wide awake and completely exasperated.

“Ummm, no?”

“Max, what the hell? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Late enough for all the bars to be closed,” he quipped, sounding quite pleased with his answer.

“Where are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Max,” I warned.

“Okay okay, don’t get your titties in a twist. I’m at Mulvaney’s.”

“Isn’t that in West Chester?” My voice was getting louder as my irritation grew exponentially with every passing second.

“Aren’t you quite the little tour guide. How did you know that?”

“Because I went there . . . ," I started to explain, before realizing he was getting me off track. "Does it really f*cking matter? How did you get there. Or, more importantly, how are you getting home?”

“I’m not sure what matters to you anymore,” he said sadly.

My heart dropped a bit at his words and I realized that, no matter what decisions I made concerning Max and Adam, I’d be hurting someone. Well, . . . shit. I took a deep breath and calmed down before I spoke again. “Max, how are you getting home?”

His voice was brighter when he replied. “Well, it just so happens that I have this coupon. . .”

Goddammit. I knew those coupons were a bad idea. I sighed heavily. “I’ll be there in forty minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Thanks, doll,” he said before the call disconnected.

And even though I knew he was drunk and would probably never remember most of our conversation, I couldn't help feeling a little thrilled when he called me “doll.”

***

After throwing on a sweatshirt and jeans, I drove to West Chester like a bat out of hell. Thirty-five minutes later, I pulled up in front of Mulvaney’s to see Max half-sitting, half-lying on a bench out front of the bar. I beeped my horn at him and his eyes flickered open. He registered me and then got up slowly and staggered toward my car.

“You look like shit,” I said as I pulled away from the sidewalk.

He chuckled, “Nice to see you too.”

“So what happened? Did your friends ditch you or did you ditch them?”

“You know, I’m really not sure.”

I shook my head, but let it go.

Max leaned his head back and closed his eyes. I thought he had fallen asleep when he spoke again, never opening his eyes. “So, you going to tell me why you didn’t call or text me back?”

“Are you even going to remember this conversation tomorrow?”

“Only one way to find out.” He had swung his head toward me, his eyes looking directly at me.

“Adam doesn’t want me to see you anymore.” I figured the best way to tell him this news was to treat it like removing a band aid. It was best to just rip the sucker off.

Max straightened up in his seat. “And you agreed to that?” His voice was emotionless, which betrayed just how hurt he really was. Max only bothered to cover up the feelings that affected him the deepest.

“No.”

Even from my periphery, I could tell he was confused. “Then, I guess that brings us back to my original question. Why haven’t I heard from you?”

“I just . . . need time to get my head on straight. I feel like I’m starring in my own version of Groundhog Day. And mine isn’t nearly as funny as Bill Murray’s.”

Max didn’t respond and we drove the rest of the way to his house in silence. I was surprised by his lack of a response. I wasn’t sure what I had expected him to say, but I sure as hell had expected something.