I wipe at my tears, rolling my eyes when I notice the smudge of black mascara on the side of my finger. "He's so brave."
Konnor's eyes find mine for a moment and his well up too.
He mouths, "I love you."
And my throat tightens further. "I love you too."
Cassidy
I hit shuffle on my after-dinner mix, letting the mellow tunes hum through the car. We cruise down the empty, dimly lit coastal road with the river to our right and the hills to our left. I lower the rear passenger window to feel the crisp night-time breeze stroke my face, to smell the fresh ocean air. I close my eyes and inhale it, thinking about tonight. About Konnor's closure. About the glistening of his eyes. I'm glad I went.
The sound of a base guitar fills the Chrysler. Hypnotic, sad, and passionate, "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex, rolls from the speakers, and my heart expands. This song can pluck you from the earth. Defy gravity. Lift you into the clouds so that you can view yourself from above. It is state altering. The lyrics start and I flush a little. This song reminds me of Max. A smile hits my lips and I turn to find him grinning at me, his hair messy, his top buttons open, his legs spread casually in his black satin-lined trousers.
Twisting towards me, he slides his hand across my red dress, fingers grazing the floral embroidery. He stops at my neck, circling the arch with his warm palm. "This is an interesting song." His thumb follows the roll of my throat down and then up.
The title is the basis of the song's story, so Max probably suspects that it reminds me of his promise to never let anyone hurt me again, but he'd be wrong. Nothing is going to hurt him. A month ago, when I heard this song for the first time, it filled me with this urge to protect him - protect that rare fragile gentleness he hides from everyone other than me. Protect that fiercely guarded heart with my life.
I try to stay strong beneath his burrowing stare. "It reminds me of this guy I like."
"Do I need to kill him or is that guy me?"
I giggle. "You don't know him."
His brows draw a straight line above his serious expression. "Not funny, little one."
Leaning in close, I kiss his stern face until it softens. Pulling back, I find him now contemplative with a thought but hesitant to share it.
He finally says, "I'm going to work for Clay at the council. How do you feel about that?"
Blinking at him, I say, "What does that mean?"
"I'll be using my degree. It'll be nine to five."
I nod, unsure why he's looking at me as if he's waiting for approval. "But you'll hate working in an office." I glance around the back carriage. No. No. "You'll hate it. Why can't you play rugby?"
His face pulls in tight, teeth locking, eyes defensive. "I thought you'd be happy."
"You can go pro, Max," I say. "You can-"
"Leave my brothers. The District!" he snaps. Sighing with strained breath, he bites down his anger. "Sorry. But that's never going to happen."
I understand family loyalty. Frick, my whole life has revolved around Konnor, but I want more for Max. He's so talented. "But they have their own lives-"
Max clears his throat. "On weekends."
The words have no context and I'm left staring wide eyed at his angry expression - an expression that is smothering a kind of uneasiness. "What?"
"You said the fairy-tale would be nine to five and rugby on the weekends. I can give you that now."
Still confused, I say, "What?"
He leans back in his seat. Closed off, he looks out of the window with anger snapping at the heels of casual dismissal. "Forget it." I imagine in any other situation, he would have left me to punch the bag already in an attempt to release his anger.
"No." I straighten. "Wait. . . are you trying to give me the fairy-tale?"
"Apparently not," he mutters tersely as if the whole conversation has left acid in his mouth.
I'm taken aback, feeling my level of agitation rise as he shuts me out. The space he's put between us sends a shiver up my spine. No! I'm not letting him block me out like this. No way.
"I'm so sorry that I want the best for you, Max Butcher! But you won't be happy in an office! It'll drive you crazy. Why can’t you have what you want? Rugby? I could come see-"
He growls. "I have what I want sitting next to me being a pain in the fucking arse!"
A wave of happiness hits me, crashing into my heart and splashing up my body. I beam. I'm the pain in the arse. . . that's me. He wants me. Twisting forward in my seat, I glance at Carter in the rear-view mirror, but he's pretending to hear nothing, just staring at the road.
I unbuckle my seat belt, kick off my heels, and hike my red dress up my thighs before swinging my leg over Max's lap to straddle him. I pretend to pin him beneath me. "Listen to me, Max Butcher, I love you, you menace." I kiss his tight lips. When he doesn't respond, I lick the defiant flesh of his lower lip, coaxing him. He lets out a pained groan. Loosens. I lean back on his thighs and match him stare for stare. Match him intensity for intensity. "If it's what you want, then I'm your girl."
Two big hands slide up my thighs to my waist and back, massaging with a possessiveness I only understand because I feel the same way when I touch him. "You’re my girl either way."
I smile at that. "Yes."
The feel of his touch over the soft sheer material of my dress sends tingles throughout my body. Awakening every cell to him. To us.
As his eyes caress my face, studying
