Until April (Until Her/Him #10)(14)

“What the…?” My phone starts to ring in my hand with an unknown number, and I put it to my ear. “Hello.”

“Is this April Mayson?” a woman asks.

“It is.”

“You know it’s like totally bitchy of you to not talk to Cohen, right?” she sasses, and I sit up straight.

“Excuse me?”

“All he wants to do is talk to you. You should at least hear him out.”

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” I snap.

“No.”

“Right.” I hang up and ignore my phone when it starts ringing once more, then go to my social media and read through some of the messages. Most of them are from women, and a few men, who are pissed at me for not talking to Cohen. Feeling anger curl up in the pit of my stomach, I jump off the couch, grab my car keys from my bag, and storm downstairs to the front door. When I get out to my car, I fling the door open, lean inside to grab the crumpled piece of paper that’s still in my cup holder, and smooth it out on the hood of my car.

“What are you doing?” Maxim asks, making me jump as I start to dial the number, and I glare at him.

“Stop scaring me.” I look from him to his car, wondering how it’s possible that I didn’t hear him pull up.

“Sure. Now, who are you calling?”

“My ex,” I tell him as my phone rings with a number that I don’t recognize, and I press Ignore on the call.

“Why?” He gets close, his brows drawn together tightly, making him look menacing.

“Because he went on the radio this morning, and now I have random people—mostly women—messaging and calling my phone. And some of them threatened to do some not-so-nice things if they see me out,” I say, going back to plugging in the cell number, which is taking forever, because messages and calls keep popping up on my screen. Getting frustrated, I turn my phone on silent, then glare at Maxim when he takes my cell from me. “I need that!”

“You’re not calling him.”

“Oh, yes, I am,” I assure him, and he shakes his head, taking the paper from me.

“Calling him is not going to solve this issue, babe.”

“You’re right.” I snatch the paper out of his hand—or most of it, anyway. “It won’t solve anything, but I’m pretty sure I will feel better after telling him what a dick he is,” I rant, then look past him when I catch a familiar-looking Jeep pull into a parking space a little ways down from my house. “Oh my God.”

“What?” He turns to look, but I grab his arm.

“I need you to hide.”

“What?”

“I need you to hide,” I repeat, looking around for somewhere to put him and notice the garbage can next to my garage door.

“Not happening,” he growls, and my stomach sinks.

“Honey,” Mom calls out, with my dad following behind her, carrying a large brown bag.

“Thank you for coming over to check the security system. I really appreciate that,” I say loud enough for my parents to hear as I look up at Maxim and hold out my hand.

His gaze drops to it, his expression looking a mixture of pissed and entertained. “Not fucking happening.” He takes the hand that I’m holding out and laces his fingers with mine.

Oh shit.

“Mr. and Mrs. Mayson.” He turns to greet my parents as they get closer. “It’s nice seeing you both again.”

“Oh Lord,” I breathe.

“Again?” Dad frowns while my mom looks up at him with wide-eyed wonder.

“My parents are good friends with Autumn and Kenton. We met years ago when my family was in town visiting them.”

“Your father…. Wait, I know you.” Dad snaps his fingers. “You’re Kai’s kid.”

“I don’t think he’s a kid anymore, sweetheart.” Mom laughs.

“Mayhem,” Dad says, looking proud.

“Maxim,” he corrects with a laugh.

“That’s right.” Dad reaches out to smack his arm.

“Kill me now,” I whisper, and Maxim’s eyes drop down to me as he smiles a seriously attractive smile. Forcing my eyes off his, I look at the bag my dad is holding and feel my expression soften. “You brought me Louie’s?”

“We figured you could use some of your favorite comfort food.” Mom steps toward me so she can give me a hug. “And since we brought extra for you to have leftovers, we have enough for all of us.” She looks at Maxim. “You’re joining us, right?”

“Of course he is,” Dad answers for him, and my heart starts to pound.

“What were you doing out here?” Mom asks, looking at my outfit as she takes my arm and turns for the house.

“Nothing.”

“She’s getting calls from women who are pissed about the fact that she ghosted her ex,” Maxim tells them, and I glare at him over my shoulder as we head upstairs. “They should know what’s going on.”

“Women are calling you?” Mom asks.

“It’s not a big deal.” I shake my head, not wanting her to worry.

“It’s a big fucking deal,” Maxim says, then adds, “Not only could one of these chicks end up being psycho enough to come after you in person, but I’ve only seen you with one phone, which means these idiots got what also happens to be your work number.”