“Erin can hear you, man.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MAX
Ethan worshipped the Fourth of July. He loved everything from the patriotism to the food to the fireworks. He even liked all the cheap plasticware that donned the American flag. But nothing—and I mean nothing—got him giddier than the Millers’ annual party. He always talked about what he would do to change it, to improve it. At the party the year before he died, he included me in those plans. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we watched the fireworks, grinning as he said, “This’ll all be ours someday, Maxie,” as if I were embedded in his future. Because of that, I loved the Fourth too. I loved the idea that someday we’d be throwing our own parties with our own burgers and our own friends. I just loved Ethan.
I couldn’t miss out on the party this year. Thankfully, Tylenol dulls my fading headache, so I’m able to enjoy myself within reason.
“Look at us, we’re a bunch of ants on a log. Oh, god, where’s Conner? I’m hungry for celery, peanut butter, and chocolate chips now.” Erin looks around and falls back in her seat, patting her belly. “This blows. We should be dancing! But you’ve got a head wound and I’ve got a bowling ball baby.”
I point at her with my fork. “But this gives you something to hold over her head.”
“Oh yes! Why haven’t I thought of that? Oh baby TBA, you held me back. I could not dance sexily with my husband.”
“Just say the dance sexily part. That would be enough to scar her.”
“You know, I think I should’ve taken notes on how my mom raised me. I’m only at the pregnant part and it’s already wearing me out. Imagine how it’ll be when she goes through her rebellious stage.”
Taking a sip of my drink I say, “Just think of Ellie,” around the rim.
Erin doubles forward with laughter. “I so hope not. Did you know she crashed our golf cart sneaking out to see Danny during her never-ending rebellion?”
“How did she do that?”
“She forgot to lift the shed doors. I’m pretty sure that . . .” she trails off and sits up straight. “So, um, don’t freak out, okay? Because I know I’m totally surprised . . . but Cain is here.”
“He is?” I turn around and sure enough, he’s standing by the gate, searching the crowd. Dressed in dark blue jeans and a black shirt, he’s a stark contrast to the orange-lit sky and smiling people. His jaw is covered in blond stubble, his hair mussed wildly, and even from here I can see the dark shadows beneath those bright, exhausted eyes. He in no way looks happy to be here—more resigned, like he’s lost an epic battle.
I stand before he spots me. “I can’t do this,” I say to Erin. His expression . . . I don’t want or need to be the cause of that. I wanted him to show up, but I wanted him to look like he did that night at the boat—like he’s ready to try to live again. This isn’t it. It’s him giving in. Giving up.
“Talk to him,” Erin urges.
I shake my head and escape into the crowd toward the house. People accidentally push against me and I’m pretty sure I push a few people too. I can’t bring myself to care. All I can think about is getting away from him. When I pass one of Ellie’s aunts, she grabs my shoulder and asks me what’s wrong, but I just fight back tears and force myself forward.
As I round the side of the house and head for the door, a hand grabs me again. I already know who it is from his cedar scent and the strength rippling behind his gentle touch. I’m so fine-tuned to him I can sense his breathing. I can picture his chest rising and falling raggedly, that piercing stare locked on me and ripping me open from the inside.