Page 67 of Surviving the Merge
Damon and Ash slipped in. My lips pulled up at the sides; my eyes flicked over to the picture and back to Damon meaningfully. He winked; his dimples coming out to play. The boys drifted to him, questioning him about his muscles, asking if he was the Hulk. He flexed for some of the younger ones who shouted “cool” and “awesome” or some variation of that.
I intended to speak to Ash, but I followed his field of sight to catch his gray eyes studying Max, and Max had his hands full with a few rambunctious kids screaming, “Mr. Max! Mr. Max!” They vied for his attention.
My chest filled with hope.This is what I’m supposed to be doing. This is where I’m supposed to be.
* * *
Sam headed backto the city early, and Ash got called in to the hospital, so Damon gave him a ride.
Damon wasn’t happy that I’d chosen to stay at the center with Max, but he’d live.
“So, you and Ash?” I asked, helping him clean the woodshop while Pluto watched from the hall. The last time Max allowed him inside, he caught a splinter in his front paw.
Max nearly dropped the table saw on his foot. “There is no me and Ash. I don’t even know the guy. We said maybe five words to each other.”
“‘Thou protesteth too much,’” I mumbled. Ash matched me in height but was built for war, much like Damon. My age, but the backdrop of his dark skin against his premature gray hair lent a wise presence to his composition. Ash wasn’t created to go unnoticed.
“He annoyingly called me ‘Mr. Max,’ and when I said, ‘just Max’ is fine, he then called me ‘Just Max,’ literally.” He snorted. “Plus, his best friend is your psycho husband—no offense. I don’t need Damon chasing me off from youandthe best friend.”
“Ashton knows how to handle Damon. He wouldn’t allow him to come between you guys. And you didn’t seem to have a problem with wanting something with me. I’m more complicated than a Rubik's Cube.”
We’d left the building, Max locked up, and we headed to our cars. “Have you seen yourself, Justin? You’re like a Boy Scout with wings.”
“I am not,” I said indignantly. “Why do you need a Boy Scout anyway? Ash is a standup guy. He’s loyal, and his faith in those he loves is unwavering. Once he considers you one of his, you’re his for life.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not on the market to be one ofhis.That’s what attracted me to you. If I’m being honest with myself, I knew you and I wouldn’t go far,” he said, stopping at his truck. “What about you and Blake? When do I get to meet him?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t understand. How can you be upset with one and not the other?” He let Pluto into the truck cab, then slid into the driver's seat and shut the door.
“It takes practice,” I said, looking up at him through the opened window.
“How do you expect to go on this way? Yesterday, you mentioned that they were making progress. Said you were happy for them.”
I tapped my right foot impatiently; my problems were the last thing I wanted to talk about.
“Aren’t you a part ofthem?” he asked.
“You don’t get it. All this time, I thought hesavedme, Max. But he was the one that caused me to need saving in the first place. If he hadn’t...”
“I know, Justin. I know,” Max said sympathetically when I couldn’t continue. “Tell me this. What do you think your life would be like had the rape never happened? Do you think things would have changed between you and Damon?”
“I don’t know the answer to that,” I told him, shaking my head. “What I do know is, I wouldn’t have had to—”
“Survive,” Max interjected, starting his engine.
My arched brows conveyed my confusion. He threw one arm over the wheel.
“What you went through doesn’t make you who you are. What you survived does.Howyou survived. I don’t think you know that. I think you believe what happened to you makes you weak. But look how far you’ve come. Change the narrative, Justin. And fight to save your relationship.”
* * *
I stumbledout of the taxi and made my way up the driveway. I’d left my car at the bar I drove to after Max pulled off. He’d given me a lot to think about, and I hadn’t wanted to think. I stopped with one foot on the porch steps when the curtains twitched, and I struggled to suppress my laugh.
“You’re getting predictable in your old age, Damon,” I said, heaving through the front door. I was immediately accosted.
“Is that so?” he asked in a toneless voice.
