Page 51 of It's Not Home Without You

“Um… her car skidded off the bridge, and she drowned. It was a long time ago. To be honest, I don’t even remember much. Then Grandpa and Grandma took me in. After Grandma died, it’s been Gramps and me.”

“What about your father?”

“Grandpa is my father.” I was playing with my hands because this conversation was making me uncomfortable. It felt more like an interrogation. Everyone in town already knew it, so it wasn’t like it was some guarded secret. “My mother never said who my father was.”

Dex’s dad gave me a pitiful smile. I was glad when they called my order. It gave me an excuse to leave this conversation. When I was walking away, he stopped me.

“You have her smile.” His words were barely audible, but I heard them. I knew I had my mother’s smile. My grandpa had pointed that out on many occasions. Mom had dark blue eyes, I had brown eyes. I liked to pretend I got my dark hair from my grandma since Mom was a dark blonde like my grandpa. The conversation left me a little unraveled. I hated thinking of my mom and her selfishness. When I was younger and I would get bullied, I blamed it all on her. If she had stuck around and not gotten addicted to alcohol, I wouldn’t be the girl whose mother was a whore. It wouldn’t have mattered that I was poor or even a bastard; I would have still had my mom.

When I turned around, Max was staring at me, andthere was concern written all over his face. I might not know this new him, but he seemed to still recognize me. He gave me a look and then turned his gaze to Brandon. He wanted to know if I was okay, and that did thingsto me. It lit a little ember of hope that had no business in lighting up.

I walked away, aware of the fact I would have to pass his table. On the plus side, Abigail wasn’t with him. Unfortunately for me, Prescott was. Fucking great. Seriously, he was still a handsome bastard. I know karma already gave me mine, but couldn’t it have given Prescott his first? For real, give him a beer gut or something. Still, now older, it was easy to see that Max was the more handsome of them too. There were two other men at their table. Hopefully that would be incentive enough for Prescott to ignore me.

“Freya Pratt.” My eyes closed, and I fisted my free hand. I could keep walking, but I wasn’t one to shy away, especially from Prescott the dick.

“Prescott,” I said in acknowledgment. The two men who were sitting with them looked at me.

“Come here and give an old friend some love.” The fucking asshole pushed his chair back and stood up. I ignored him and instead introduced myself to their companions.

“This is Chad, Juliet’s husband,” Prescott said as Max stared at me, “and Drake.”

“What a lovely name.” Drake held my hand longer than necessary. Next to me, I felt Max’s glare.

“Freya, it’s good to have you back. She was the town’sdarling.Weren’t you, sweetheart?” Prescott was leisurely gazing at me, but with him, I felt repulsed.

“Enjoy your meal. Nice meeting you. I need to get going before my food gets cold.” I turned around and left without another word to Prescott. What a major dickwad. I couldn’t believe people actuallywanted him to be our mayor.

When I stepped outside, it had gotten colder, and I hated my dress at that moment. Okay, not really, but I guess fashion wasn’t always comfortable—like that dress Riri wore to the Met in 2015 looked heavy AF but was still gorgeous.

“Freya!” I walked faster when I heard my name being shouted. My heart was trying to beat out of my chest, urging me toturn around and jump into the arms of a man who no longer wanted it. I felt relieved when I didn’t hear his voice again.

I told myself this was good; it was what I wanted.

“It’s cold, Freya. Get in the car.” His husky tone gave me more chills than the wind. I had spoken too soon. There he was driving his classic Mercedes right next to me. Do you know what I didn’t do? Get in the car. I kept walking, holding the food close to my chest, finding comfort in the heat it was emitting and pretending like Maximilian Dunnett was not following me.

“Freya, get in the car,” he demanded.

I mocked his command without thinking.“Get in the car, Freya.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No.”

“Jesus Christ, Freya, it’s fucking cold. Get in the car before you get sick.”

“Jesus Christ, Freya,”I mimicked again.

Max sped off, and I could breathe properly now thathewasn’t driving alongside me. Still, I kept walking because sagging to the ground was unacceptable. Then suddenly, when I was about to cross the street, there was Max cutting me off and blocking my path. He stepped out of his car, not caring it was illegal to park in the middle of the street. Then again, he could afford to pay any fine. As he approached, it was like I forgot how tall he was, how much his presence tilted my axis. I tried not to think about him and what he said in his office, but dammit it hurt.

You weren’t that good.

It sucked, but I compared Ashton to him. Ash paled in comparison, and to Max I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t special. I was nothing. I stopped walking, scared to take another step. If I pressed the food any tighter to my chest, I would find myself covered in marinara and penne.

“Let me give you a ride. Please, it’s fucking cold and your basically naked.” He opened the passenger door to his car. It would be childish if I walked around him, wouldn’t it?

“I’m not naked,” I muttered as I made my way to his passenger side before anyone saw us, or cars honked. Max didn’t move; he was holding the door for me. It made me nervous and self-conscious. I was unable to breathe. My back jolted when he put his hand on my bare skin. I was cold from not having a jacket, so when Max touched me it burned.

“You’re freezing.” His breath fanned my back, and I almost lost it when his finger traced down my spine. “You’re not wearing a bra,” he croaked, and I couldn’t help the small whimper that left my lips.

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