Page 56 of Surviving the Break
Max needed to go back to the scene of the crime. That, we agreed on. As much as I enjoyed his ferocity in the bedroom these past several weeks, his inability to trust that I only wanted him would’ve eaten away at what we had and the more that we could have in the future. His leaving was justified.
My stomach heaved at the thought that Max would be left vulnerable to Hayden’s charms. My fists clenched, imagining them seeing each other and realizing that they’d both made a mistake. Imagining that in the heat of an unthought-out moment, they might tear each other's clothes off and reignite a flame that should’ve never gone out.
That thought was based on fear. But a rational one. I didn’t know where Max’s feelings stood with Hayden because I didn’t think even Max himself knew. God, I needed to be with him.Can I be there for him without being in the way?
He needed to be free to decide, whichever decision he made. My presence might sway him one way or the other. He had to choose me on his own.
I berated myself. “He went to get closure, not decide who he wants, you fool.” And as wrong as it might have been, Hayden left him for someone else. Hayden had a family with someone else. So even if Max wanted Hayden back, I took comfort in knowing Hayden most likely wouldn’t want him.
Pluto barked in agreement, rubbing himself against my leg. “I know, boy. I love you, too.” I petted his head.
He’d called two days ago to let me know he’d made it there safely but had been radio silent ever since.He’s catching up with his family.Don’t turn into some codependent, insecure jackass.In the back of my mind, images of a sweaty, bare, muscular back with a tattoo of a farm, plowing into someone that wasn’t me, threatened to send me face-first off a precipice. I shot up from the table and circled his barn-like kitchen.
Was that where they would fuck? In the barn? Had they ever fucked in a barn? Did Hayden make him scream the way that I did? Did he fuck Hayden like he wanted to break him in half? Like he fuckedme?“Stop!” I planted both fists on the counter near the kitchen sink and leaned into them. Footsteps trotted my way, and a heavy weight pressed against my calves. “Fuck. This isn’t me.” I’d called out of work two days in a row, for no other reason than to mope. That wasn’t like me either.I guess this is love.I was suddenly afraid of the man I would become without Max. Somewhat beginning to see a different version of me forming since Max. A man that no one would be able to contain if things in Kentucky went astray. A monster went to work somewhere inside me. Setting up shop. My compassion grew for the brokenhearted.
To be honest, something else worried me more than the possible sex. It was the whispered words and promises that came after. The gestures as small as a strand of hair being tucked behind an ear and the spilling of hopes and dreams during pillow talk. Thewhat’s your favorite colortype of questions. Those were the moments that love was built on. Not sex.Could their love be rebuilt?
I wasn’t making sense even to myself anymore. Did I believe Hayden wanted Max, or did I not? Did I think Max wanted him? Was I positive they would fuck in a barn? Did an insecure, rage-filled beast really own me? Making a home in the ugly parts of me?
I’d never admit this to Max, but my confidence took a hit after learning about Hayden, and had been taking a daily beating since. Because what Max revealed didn’t only expose Hayden for the scum that he was, it also shed light on how much Max loved him— or “had” loved him. And I wondered if he could ever let go and truly be mine. Could I compete with what they, in happier times, once shared. A few weeks ago I would’ve been adamant in knowing I shouldn’t need to. But now...
My phone vibrated on the table. I straightened and backed away like it held the plague.Was this it?Where my misery ended and the real pain began?
I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and grabbed the phone, swiping the screen and holding on to the table for support. I read and reread the text message. Never had three little words meant so much to me.
23
MAX
Ineed you.
I sent the text and set the phone on the bench beside me. I couldn’t do this alone, and I didn’t have to.
“What time you reckon you’ll be heading over to the farm today?” Dad asked, stepping into the sunroom where I’d been stewing all morning.
“I’m staying here another night. Catch up with you and Mom some more.” And avoiding Paddington. It was easy enough not to bump into Hayden at my folks’ place, but Paddington’s population could fit into the back of Ry’s pickup truck.
“I see.” He sat next to me. We stared out over the rolling open acres. The once green grass turned brown from winter’s kiss. “You haven’t said much since you got here, and it’s been a couple days.”
Add shitty son to my list of achievements. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be sorry, son. Just talk to your old man.”
I inhaled deeply and nodded. He deserved it. “I found someone I’d like to spend the rest of my life with. If he’ll have me. This thing with Hayden is coming between us.” We kept our gazes straight ahead. “I have to let it go.”
“Your momma was highly upset after what happened. We both were, but I had to be strong for her, so I didn’t get to be not okay for too long.” He gave a sly grin. “She saw Hayden a few days later down at the Piggly Wiggly in Paddington. Maggie was sick”—Mom’s best friend—“so she’d gone to do her shopping for her. Your momma ran her buggy right into him.” He looked over then and sobered at my surprised expression. “You being gone made her heartache worse, and I’m not saying this to make you feel bad.” We looked away again, watching the bare branches of my mother’s red maple tree sway in the wind.
“She was sick with grief. She’d lost youandJeremiah.” He patted my knee. “She understood why you’d left, but it was rough not being able to take care of you. To restore your heart.”
“That’s one of the reasons why I left. She would’ve tried to fix me. I wanted to remain broken,” I whispered.
“You’ve always been a stubborn fool. I blame that on your granddad.” He knocked my knee with his. “Anyway, she became stagnant. Couldn’t move on. Outright refused to. She believed her anger gave her strength when it actually did the opposite. She lost sleep over the whole ordeal and was on her way to being sick behind it. I’d lost the love of my life, and I wanted her back, dammit.”
“Dad...” I had nothing more to say.
“We went to see one of them counselor people, and he gave us the best advice.” He turned his body toward me on the bench, and I rolled my head in his direction. “He told us to take stock of what we have, what we’ve gained since our tragedy. To find all the ways, no matter how small, that our lives had been enriched since that day.” He patted my knee, then stood. “You do that, son. You think on the person you were then and the person you are now. What you’ve gained and the reality of what you lost. Not the fairy tale you lost because that’s all it was.” He smiled. “It got me my blushing bride back.”
Left alone, I gave serious thought to what he said. What had I gained?
