Page 28 of Surviving the Break
“I thought you had rehearsals.” I gestured toward the kitchen and closed the door, following behind him. Pluto nearly knocked him off his feet as he plowed into him, rising up on his hind legs.
Pete had scored a fall apprenticeship at The Oregon Ballet House—The OBH—which led to a solo performance as opening act for the highly publicized winter show.
“Can you believe Mom loaned me the car? I’m driving myself out to Kisla.” He hopped up onto the kitchen counter, swinging his legs as only a teenager could, and Pluto circled, complaining because he no longer had access to him.
“I don’t know how I feel about that. That’s a long drive, and you’ll have to get on the highway.” I crossed my arms, worried, but reveling in his growth.
“You worry too much.”
He had me there. “What’s on your mind, kiddo?” I asked. He’d had a doctor’s appointment the day before that his mother took him to.
“We discussed my surgeries,” he whispered. “One more year. Then I can start the process.” He blew out a breath. “It’s expensive.”
“You let me worry about that. Are you nervous?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I have to do it. Sam—”
“Pete,” I groaned. We’d had this conversation several times. I’d thought his infatuation with Sam would wane; he was nearly six years her junior. Pete was hell-bent on becoming the “perfect man”for her. He needed to be doing this for himself. I tried to prepare him for the possibility that Sam might not be available once he was in a position to even think about asking her out. My efforts were pointless.
“I’m not doing this for her. I swear. I started down this path long before I met her. But there willneverbe anyone else for me. She’s it.”
That tone meant he was digging his heels in for a fight. Everyone worried about this crush. Justin and I often played with the idea of telling Sam, but Pete would kill us if he ever found out we’d betrayed him. “Okay. I’ll let it go—for now.”
“You bumped into Ash recently, didn’t you?” He sounded smug.
I stole a quick glance at him before grabbing my bowl off the table and heading to the sink. “What makes you say that?”
Pete shrugged. “You get all broody after you see him.”
“I don’t brood.” I chuckled, ruffling his hair.
“You two are weird. Neither of you are yourselves around each other. You pretend to be mean, and he acts...creepy. I thought adults were supposed to have their shit together?”
The bowl fell from my hand and clattered into the sink. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?”
He shrugged, sporting a satisfied grin. “I’m seventeen now. I’m practically an adult. I’m allowed to curse.” His chest puffed out, silently begging me to challenge his claim on manhood.
“How about you give me at least another year before you start letting loose, okay? And real men don’t use foul language to prove that they can. Remember to use it sparingly.”
“Fine, Dad.” He rolled his eyes, jumping down. “I gotta go. I’ll stop by after.”
“I won’t be here.” I flushed at his knowing smile.
12
ASH
Mr. Downing phoned to inform me Max had arrived. I sent the elevator down while I paced the penthouse foyer. Nervous and really wanting tonight to go well, hoping that I could tame the wayward thoughts that hit me whenever we were close. The elevator dinged, and I tried to look casual.
He wore a white fitted Henley and threadbare jeans that clung to his thighs for dear life. But damn, did he make it look good. Max had one of those faces that didn’t age. He didn’t look a day older than twenty, though we were around the same age. Built all-man, but his rich coffee-colored eyes were his most striking feature.
“You got a haircut,” I said, because I was suave and loved to state the obvious.
He slid a hand over the dark shorn sides; he wore it longer on the top. “Yeah, about time. I wasn’t sure what to bring, so…” He held up a six-pack of beer.
“That’s perfect.”
“I’ve never seen you in anything but a suit.”
