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chapter twenty-four

“The Graph will be available in PDF form on the Max Emory website, as well as available in the back of the book. Might I suggest printing two copies just in case? And trust me, you really do want to get that bad boy laminated. Hell, I know a few that have it framed; it’s sacred, anything sacred deserves your tender loving care, just like your penis.”

~From Max Emory’s Guide to Dating and Other Important Life Lessons

Maddy

I wasn’t sure how Milo would treat me. I mean, the last time I saw her, I’d been getting ready to run away from her brother.

From a family who had always felt like my own.

I’d expected her to ask me why, not offer a glass of wine while we all sat outside and watched the guys work.

Becca cupped a hand around her mouth and yelled, “Take your shirts off!”

Max scowled. “I’m not an animal, Becca.”

“You literally asked me to call you tiger last week when—”

“BECCA!” Max actually blushed and then, with jerky movements, pulled his shirt over his head. “There. Happy?”

I sucked in a breath; the man had an impressive pair of abs, which was all sorts of confusing, since he seemed like the type of guy who was allergic to exercise.

I was probably gaping because Becca looked over at me and just shook her head in obvious disbelief. “I gain weight from Diet Coke, and that one literally spent a week eating nothing but Krispy Kreme and actually gained an extra ab.”

“Bastard,” I huffed.

“And he sits. He sits all day long. Yeah, he goes for runs, but he’s not running for the sake of running. He’s running to practice for the zombie apocalypse, his words, not mine.”

Milo choked out a laugh. “You should have seen him in college. He used to tree-dodge in case they’d learned how to hide on the branches.”

Becca just sighed out, “Gotta love him.”

Colt peeled his shirt off next.

Milo whistled while he did a little Magic Mike dance her direction.

A pain sliced down my chest. I wanted that. I wanted… a relationship. I wanted… something.

And all I had was my stupid heart reminding me that I’d had it.

And let it go.

Jason didn’t take off his shirt.

And it felt uncomfortable saying something in front of Milo; she was being kind to me, but I knew if the situations were reversed, I’d be pulling her hair out and shoving her into the pool.

I was protective of my family.

My friends.

Not that she wasn’t.

Maybe she was just more mature.

“Reid, Jason!” Jordan called. “Don’t be the only losers clothed. Take it off!” She tapped on The Weekend.

Jason flipped us all off for at least five seconds, earning boos, and then finally relented and pulled off his shirt. Reid followed suit.