Page 53 of Wrecked Rose

No matter. I’ll do it because it’s the right thing to do. “I am.” I side-eye Max and catch his appreciative smile. “Whatever I have to do, I’ll find out.” I owe it to Sam. I owe it to Max. And I owe it to myself to make sure those assholes never hurt anyone ever again.

* * *

A while later, the house begins to fill with some of our classmates, and the noise level goes up about ten decibels. Someone’s turned music on as loudly as it will go. The entire house pounds to the beat of the music. And of course, no one is going outside; one, because it’s cold as fuck, and two, because they don’t want to ruin Mom’s hardwood floors with all the snow and risk our only remaining party spot.

I’m seated on a stool across from my brother, who is very predictably mixing drinks. He pours a glass for me and one for Lyla, who has stuck pretty close to my side so far tonight. I think it’s her way of lending support but keeping her mouth shut.

I feel him before I see him. I have this uncanny ability to sense whenever he’s near. Like the pull between is so strong it can’t be overlooked, can’t be denied.

Sure enough, when I glance over my shoulder, Max is right behind me. He lowers his head near my ear—which you’d think would call attention to us, but everyone is shouting near everyone else’s ears because of the music—and he says loudly enough for me to hear him, “Don’t have too much to drink. I want you mostly sober.”

My brows shoot up to my hairline. “Well, all right, then.” I put my hand on his shoulder and pull him back down to me. “Um, do you want to meet me in my room in like, five minutes?”

“Yes.”

That one word sends fire through my veins. It’s all I can do to nod. “Good.” I turn back around to wait while he wanders away.

That five minutes feels like fucking forever. When it comes to an end, Max’s gaze meets mine across the room, and I nod. He heads toward the stairs. I have no idea what we’re about to do, but no matter what goes down between us, I can’t resist a chance to be alone with Max. I’m standing up to make a break for it when a warm body wraps around me from behind. Make that two. I grimace a bit when I look over my shoulder to see both Stacia and Aubrey, and despite my protests, they shuffle me into the living room for a dance.

I suck my lips into my mouth for a second, trying to figure out how I can get away without it being obvious that I’m anxious to meet someone else. Finally, I decide to be honest—as honest as I can be, anyway. “Ladies, one dance. Then I have to go.”

Aubrey gives a tipsy laugh. “Go?”

“It’s your fucking house, Griff. Are you so drunk you have no idea where you are?” Stacia flips her dark hair over her shoulder and cackles, moving her hips to the beat of the music.

“Yeah. I promised a friend I’d hang out for a bit.” I inhale sharply as she plasters her front to my back, while Aubrey turns around and grinds her ass right into my crotch.Oh, hell.

I’m not drunk in the slightest and officially regretting not getting up off the stool five minutes ago and dragging Max with me, not giving a shit who saw it happen.Shit. Fuck. Damn.These girls have glued themselves to me. They throw their arms up and cheer as they continue to grind with me sandwiched between them. “Woo!”

Yeah. I’m not drunk, but they sure as hell are. And these girls have the arms of a giant squid. I’m struggling to detach myself when I happen to look up.

Max stands at the entrance to the room, arms crossed and watching me with a set to his jaw. He looks fairly pissed off. And strangely, I find that hot, but not if it means he’s going to walk out of here.

He pivots on his heel, storming back down the hallway, stopping only briefly to talk to Daphne. I can tell from the distress on her face that she’s upset about whatever he said to her. Her gaze swings toward me. And, dammit, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t told her much, if anything, but I bet my face answers all of the questions I see flicker across her face.

I’m slowly losing my mind, trying not to attract attention to the fact that I’m desperate to detach myself from these girls when Mitch attempts to slip past us. I clasp his shoulder, pulling him to me. I hiss in his ear, “If you were ever my friend, you’ll take my place with these girls.”

“Uh. Yeah, sure.” He gives me an odd look but doesn’t argue.

“Ladies, I’m out. It’s been fun.” I manage to work my way free of the squid arms and Mitch slides between them, and I swear, those girls barely even notice. They latch onto him and begin to sway. I give one last look at him and he throws me a pleased look. For whatever reason, nice guys like Mitch do always finish last. I give a little laugh. Maybe not tonight, though.

I hurry through the chaos of the party.Where did he go?All I can think of is getting to Max. Finding him. Explaining what went down.

Bodies gyrate everywhere I turn, and normally this would be my thing, stopping to bump and grind with everyone. But not right now. If I don’t figure out in the next thirty seconds where Max disappeared to, I’m going to scream.

He probably thinks I fucking ditched him on purpose. Because—cue sarcasm—I’m sure that was exactly what he most wanted to see: the guy he likes wedged tightly between two women. I open and close doors along my mad dash through the house, checking my dad’s office, a bathroom, and the kitchen.

Just when I’m about to pull my hair out, Lyla waves me over. “I don’t want to know what happened, but Max went out toward the garage. He looked upset.”

“Fuck. Thank you.” I hurry down the hallway, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching me. When I reach the garage door, I whip it open, step through, and close it behind me.

Without the lights on, the garage is a dark, cavernous place. It’s huge, with five bays that are completely full tonight because Micah parked in the empty space due to the snow. When we were little, Beau and I used to come out here just to shout because it would echo so much.

“I’m over here.” Max’s deep voice comes to me from the far side of the garage.

Relieved that he hadn’t taken off, I make my way past all of the luxury vehicles and finally come to a stop in front of him. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and he’s leaning against the wall with the most dejected look on his face I’ve ever seen.

“I’m sorry, that—”

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