Page 13 of Lines We Cross
“Yep. The boys all came to visit yesterday and they’re moving back to Nickel Bay.”
“Is that right?” I felt like I was hearing him through a long tunnel filled with cotton balls. My mind couldn’t seem to comprehend what my heart already knew. It was aching again even as it beat wildly, that switch flipped the minute Max showed his face. The fact that all the Nickel Heads were moving back to Nickel Bay poured super glue on that switch, forcing it to stay in the on position.
With shaky hands, I took the heating pad off and gingerly bent his knee, testing the flexion.
He grimaced but didn’t complain, that excited light in his eyes impervious to pain. “We made that pact, you know.”
I nodded, my heart lurching and threatening to close off my throat. I couldn’t lose control here. Nope. Not now. Not with Max around to see my meltdown. That happened a lot right after Emerson got sick and most certainly after he died. I’d be minding my own business at the grocery store, see the navel oranges—Emerson’s favorite—and I’d burst into tears. The really ugly kind that came with loud gulps of sobs and snot everywhere. There was no rhyme or reason to it, and no warning. Hence, my switch. Things got too intense, just flip the switch and save face in front of anyone at any time.
“Flip over,” I managed to squeak out.
Max paused for a moment, but mercifully didn’t say anything before rolling over and letting me have my way with his leg. If I pushed a little harder, getting his heel closer to his butt than it had been two days ago, it had nothing to do with me being angry or vindictive. Nope. Just doing my job.
They were all moving back here to Nickel Bay. A few years ago, that would have made me jump for joy, despite how badly Max treated me when we were teenagers. Now though, when Emerson wasn’t one of the five friends moving back home? I was crushed. It wasn’t fair. And I certainly wasn’t that innocent girl who believed all would be okay in the end.
“So, we agreed to move back here—ughh.” He paused to groan as I pushed harder. “You seriously gotta lay off the weights, Rae.”
I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn’t see me. “Suck it up, buttercup. We gotta get this leg bending before we can work on strengthening it.” I paused. “And quit it with the Rae thing, would ya?”
He shook his head awkwardly while his forehead stayed in contact with the mat. “I’ve always called you Rae. What’s the problem?”
Anger simmered low in my belly which was a welcome relief. The anger burned away the tears, so I let it flare brighter. “I haven’t seen you in twelve years, Max. Pretty sure we don’t know each other well enough for nicknames.”
His head popped off the mat, back muscles straining under his T-shirt. “Are you kidding me? We grew up together. You don’t just forget all that and revert to being strangers. I bandaged and kissed your banged-up knee when you fell off your bike and Emerson wouldn’t stop to help. We teamed up and beat Ryder every year when we all went night hiking. I set that dude Blake straight when he tried to kiss you while he was dating Jennifer your freshman year. Weknoweach other, Rae.”
I snorted, the anger really bubbling now. Those memories used to be precious to me, back when I believed Max to be a good guy. But I’d grown up since then. Saw him for who he really was.
“Sure, you knew me when I was a kid, but I’m not a kid anymore. I didn’t run away the minute I graduated, partying it up and abandoning my friends. I stayed here in Nickel Bay and went to college, started a business. I actually grew up. And this Skylar? You don’t know the first thing about her.” I didn’t even recognize myself some mornings, so there was no way Max could know how I’d changed.
Max rolled over and sat up so quickly I lurched back. He was breathing hard and in my face, his eyes turning darker blue as he frowned.
“I didn’t run away, Rae. I busted my butt to make it into the big leagues. Not all of us went to college, but I still worked hard to be successful. It wasn’t all parties, believe me. And pardon me for assuming your upbringing is still a large part of who you are now. Maybe you should have left Nickel Bay. You might appreciate it more if you did.”
The fire in me consumed me. I’d never been this upset with anyone ever. My hands were shaking with rage, so I made fists and reminded myself repeatedly not to hit him right in his smug face.
“Leave Nickel Bay? When was I supposed to do that? Before or after my brother got cancer? Should I have left when he needed my help to even get out of bed and into a chair? Maybe I should have left when I heard him moaning in pain late at night, unable to sleep despite the painkillers lacing through his veins.” The tears welled up, distorting my vision. Even so, in the back of my mind I registered Max’s face going pale under that tan of his.
“Some of us stayed here to take care of our loved ones until they took their last breath. Until you get to know the woman who did all that and still finds the strength to function today, you don’t know a damn thing about me.”
With that I popped up and stormed out of the patient area, taking refuge in my office. I slammed the door shut and hit the lock. I was breathing hard, desperately trying to flip that switch inside, needing to shut off all these emotions coursing through me. They threatened to crash over my head and pull me under. I hated that man out there, yet part of me just wanted him to wrap me in his arms and tell me I’d be okay, just like when we were kids. It made no sense.
No more sense than me blowing up and walking out on a client. First time for everything, I supposed. I just couldn’t sit there and watch him smile and flirt like everything hadn’t changed the day Emerson came home from the doctor with his diagnosis. Max had been nowhere to be found and I would have known. I stayed by Emerson’s side every hour, day and night. If Max had come around to visit, I would have noticed. He was too busy with his playboy lifestyle of a professional athlete to pay a visit to his sick childhood friend.
I couldn’t find the switch to turn it off, so I resorted to what the therapist had taught me the one and only time I visited him after Emerson passed. My hands went behind my head and I sat in my desk chair. Eyes closed, just focused on my breath. No thoughts, just breath.
When I opened my eyes sometime later, my heart rate was back to normal, my breathing was even, and I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t felt for a long time. It was fleeting, because the second I opened my eyes, I realized I’d have to come out of my office at some point and face the client I’d run out on.
That was exactly what I’d do. I’d focus on Max being a client and nothing else. No conversations about Emerson. No silly nicknames or trips down memory lane. He was injured. I could help rehab his knee. Done. End of story.
With that solved and the panic attack averted, I crept out of my office. At the end of the hallway, I squared my shoulders and came around the corner like I had all the confidence in the world. I sagged with relief. Max was nowhere in sight.
A white square on the mat caught my attention. I moved closer and saw familiar handwriting on a paper towel. Max had written me a note.
I’m sorry.
That’s it. Just two words. The exact two words I didn’t know what to do with.
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