Page 34 of Catch the Sun

Then I watch his mouth flicker with the saddest smile before he turns and walks away.

More tears pool to the surface because I wasn’t expecting the gesture. I’m never expecting anything from anybody, and Max continues to surprise me.

Swallowing hard, I unfold the white lined paper and read over his words, scribbled in black ink.

Why We Should Be Friends

1. I want to be.

2. I have a hunch you secretly want that, too.

—Max

P.S. Shouldn’t everything in life be that simple?

Holding back some kind of cry-laugh sound caught in my throat, I sniff, rubbing away mascara streaks from my cheeks as Max saunters back into the school, never once looking back.

Then I tuck the note inside my front pocket.

Right beside the smooth white stone.

Chapter 9

Max

McKay is running with me today.

It’s rare that I’m able to pull him away from Brynn or his busy social commitments, so I savor the hour we share running down winding roads, alongside creeks, and through dense tree lines carved with walking paths. When we’re breathless and parched, we take a break and sit side by side on a gnarly-looking log and gaze out at the lake through leafy branches.

McKay pulls a water bottle out of his backpack, then hands one to me. After chugging down the whole thing in a few swallows, he lets out a sigh and stares at the ground between his feet. “This is nice,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” I agree.

“Sorry, I just… I’ve needed to do my own thing, you know? Nothing personal.”

It sure feels personal when you’re on the receiving end of someone’s cold shoulder. Still, I say flippantly, “I get it.”

“I know I’ve been distant lately. That shithole of a house is depressing and spending time with you reminds me of…” He blinks a few times, and his voice trails off.

My jaw tics as my eyes remain firmly fixed on the gleaming lake. “I remind you that Mom didn’t love us enough to stay, Dad has more issues thanPeoplemagazine’s entire publication history, and our dream house is one strong wind away from becoming a pile of kindling. Glad that’s clarified.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did.” I gulp a few sips of water and they burn on the way down. “It’s fine.”

“Max, c’mon. You’ve always been the golden child. Even when Mom—” He blows out a breath and ruffles his shaggy hair. “Mom and Dad always preferred you.”

“Preferredme?”

“Yeah. Mom would takeyouto run all the errands and go on happy, wholesome lunch dates. Dad would takeyoufishing because I didn’t know how to swim until I was nine.Youwere the one he sat down with and talked construction and building-code crap. I’m the odd one out. Always have been and you know it.”

“That’s bullshit. It was an even playing field growing up.”

“Ask Dad,” he shoots back. “I dare you. Ask him in confidence which son he likes better and you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.”

Anger filters through me, hot like the sun on my skin. “Well, you only have yourself to blame for that now. I’m the one keeping him safe and sober. I’m the one cleaning up his puke and piss when he drinks himself nearly to death. I’m the one who keeps the place clean, cooks, and does your fucking laundry. Don’t try to act like the helpless victim, McKay.”

His eyes radiate fury for a heartbeat before he blinks it away. Sighing, he shakes his head and kicks at a jagged rock. “Fine. You’re right.”

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