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“No.”
“Tink, are you okay? Do you need me to come over?”
No, and definitely no. I don’t have the energy right now to walk away.
“I’m okay. Wound up a bit. Being back is making me nervous.”
“I can…”
“Just talk to me, Max,” I reply, frustrated that he’s not understanding what I need. Do I even know what I need? “You’ve always been able to calm me down. I need your voice right now.”
He chuckles. “My voice is here for you.” I smile and settle on the couch, already feeling at ease. “I didn’t know you hired someone new. Tell me about him.”
He groans and the phone rubs against his rough jaw, like he’s moving around. He mumbles something under his breath about talking to Addison. “Max? What are you doing?”
“Hold, please,” he bites out. I pull the phone back and stare at it, surprised by his tone. A few moments later, he comes back. He exhales loudly and I wonder where the sudden irritation came from. The line stays silent for a few more beats. “His name’s Kase, started working for me a few months ago. Anything else you were wondering about him?”
Snappy much?
I open my mouth to ask what his problem is but shut it when I overhear talking outside my door. My eyes narrow as I get up and walk to the door. Peering out the peephole, I see Hudson standing guard.
“Max Shaw, you did not just do that?”
“What are you talking about?” he answers with a trace of humor in his voice.
“Ugh. I don’t like the guy, you jealous ass.”
He laughs and unapologetically says, “I needed him to do a perimeter check.”
“Liar.”
Our chuckles die down, but the tension between us is felt through the phone. I close my eyes and place my hand over my heart, it thumps against it like Morse code. I know what it’s saying, but can I mentally act on it?
Can we move past the demons of guilt keeping us apart? Sometimes, our demons are just truths trying to be set free. When I look at Max, I’d rather him be in my life than not. But is it too late? Have I pushed him away too many times? Since he’s been here, he hasn’t given me any sign that he’s here because he still wants me. He’s here to do a job that he was hired to do.
“Tink?” he says, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I’m here. What’s your favorite ice cream,” I blurt out. I smack my forehead, shaking it.
Can I be any more random?
“Hmm… vanilla, I guess.”
I stifle my laugh with my hand.
“What’s wrong with vanilla?”
“Nothing. You’re just not the vanilla type.”
“Sydney.” His voice is a deep rumble mixed with heat as he calls me by my real name. “We’re talking about ice cream.”
Heat that pierces deep inside my lower belly, making me take a deep breath.
“What’s yours?” There’s struggle in his words, our conversation making him squirm too.
“Cherry Garcia.”
The memory of having the ice cream for the first time pops into my head. I had broken up with a jerk boyfriend in high school. Addison thought it was a great reason to try a dozen different Ben N’ Jerry’s ice cream flavors. Addison’s aunt came into the kitchen, the table covered with the pint-size ice cream containers. She joined in and we spent the whole night picking the asshole apart and eating ice cream. Cherry Garcia replaced him. The love of my life that never disappoints.
