Page 40 of Last Chance Love

That was among the least surprising things about the Max and Riley debacle. However, I had to admit Ihadbeen surprised when it turned out Max and Riley were a thing. Not that it had ever been confirmed, but everyone had seen how Max reacted when Riley was seriously injured. And then how he’d acted when Riley was no longer at the ranch, I wouldn’t call it moping, but there was a dourness about him that wasn’t there usually.

More surprising was that Max hadn’t come under fire for having a relationship with Riley when they were supposed to be mentor and mentee. That had been answered with the real shock that Riley had never truly been a part of the program. Instead, he came here, with Mona's and Mr. Isaiah’s blessing, to observe.

I didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to have been observing, but it had something to do with how the place was run and how effective it was at its stated goal. All Leon told me was that Riley was a psych student who had come here to observe things for his dissertation.

“If we’re going to slack, we might as well take an official break,” Leon said. “C’mon, we’re about due one anyway.”

I wasn’t going to argue and happily retreated under the tent's shade. Now things had dried out after the month of storms back in August, there was comfort in being in the shade. Even more so, when I could snag a bottle of water and, taking my own advice, sip it slowly.

“You know, we’ve been playing catch up for a couple of weeks,” I said as Leon grabbed a bottle of water and wiped his forehead. There was a redness to his face I didn’t think was sunburn, but I would have to remind him to slather on some sunblock later to make sure he didn’t burn.

“That we have,” he said with a snort. “I learned that you cheated on your statistics final, and you learned that I got my nose broken twice in the same year.”

“And that we both made poor choices in boyfriends since you dated a stripper and I dated a philosophy major.”

“Yeah, pretty sure you have the worst taste.”

“No denying that.”

Most of what we’d learned had been of the same depth. I’d learned that the deathtrap of a truck he had finally managed to buy when he was twenty-one had given up the ghost a few years later in a spectacular fire. He learned that the seemingly good-condition car I’d managed to scrape together money for had fallen apart one piece at a time until a wheel flew off while I was driving and ripped a strut out.

Little things, nothing too deep, but I wouldn’t complain. Those little things could add up if they were allowed to accumulate. As much as big moments in our lives defined things, nothing compared to those little moments and what they built to. They were ways of shaping our lives that were hard to explain but reached deep, so I would take them.

“So here’s a deeper one. What about your brothers?” I asked, watching his face closely. “I’ve never heard you bring them up.”

“Oh,” he said, and looked around as if making sure there was no one nearby, which was a safe bet because the tent was empty, and the others were busy. “They’re, uh…good, I guess.”

“You guess?” I asked, feeling my heart sink.

His shoulders slumped. “Fine, I’m lying, at least about Ian. He died in a car accident six years ago. Kid had never touched a drop of alcohol in his life, as far as I know, but a drunk driver killed him. How’s that for irony?”

“Jesus,” I hissed, pulling up one of the fold-out chairs. “I’m so sorry, Leon.”

He took the seat and shrugged sullenly. “That’s the bitch of life, isn’t it? You can do everything right and still get fucked. He was going to trade school to become an electrician. Had this sweet girl too. They were crazy about each other, and I was giving it another year or two before I heard about them getting engaged or having kids. And then boom! Gone.”

I remembered once, years ago, when we were seventeen. I’d had the house to myself for the weekend while my parents went on a short vacation, and like any teenage boy with a boyfriend or girlfriend, I’d invited Leon over. He’d brought his brothers along, which was fine. There was plenty to keep them occupied and beds to spare for them to sleep in when their energy finally tuckered them out.

It was the perfect time to raid my parents' supplies to see what trouble we could get into. Trouble came in the form of a decent bottle of gin and some juice in the fridge. Even at the irreverent and risk-taking age of seventeen, Leon had been careful not to get too drunk while in charge of his brothers. I checked on them for him while we sat on the back deck, staring up at the stars whenever I went inside, knowing he was doing the same.

“You know,” he’d said one of the times I returned to report, all was quiet. “What’s your earliest memory?”

“I don’t know, actually,” I’d told him as I sat on the patio swing, his hand finding mine quickly. We’d been dating for a year, and I still felt my stomach swoop when we touched each other. “A party of some sort. Streamers and candles, some singing. I don’t remember if it was mine or someone else’s. It’s foggy, why?”

“Mine was Ian.”

“As in your brother?”

“Yeah. I would’ve been like, fiveish? And he was about one. My mom kept up the attempt to be sober for a while after she had him, but it didn’t last long. After a while, he was just another mouth demanding attention and money. I remember being woken up by so much crying, and I went to find out what it was.”

“Where were your parents?”

He snorted, taking a small sip of his mixed drink. “My mom was passed out on the floor of her room, and my dad was sleeping it off on the couch. Didn’t wake up for shit. And I remember going out into the living room and seeing Ian sitting up, his face red and covered in snot and tears. Just screaming his little head off.”

I was seventeen, but not heartless, and the image in my head made my chest ache. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” he’d snorted, shaking his head. “I’d seen my mom do stuff to take care of him before, so I tried. I don’t remember what, but I wasn’t very good at it. That poor kid ended up getting gas from me not burping him properly, diaper rashes because I forgot to change him sometimes, and all sorts of things.”

“You were there for him,” I’d told him, squeezing his hand. “As a kid, not much older than him. That’s not your fault.”

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