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chapter twenty-seven

“When the world seems against you, it probably is, so put on your big-boy pants, take a shot, and make the world your bitch, but only after recognizing it’s always been your oyster.”

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

Jason

I stared at her house a few more seconds before turning around to the sound of clapping.

Max was leaning against the door. He picked up his wine glass from the ground along with the bottle and lifted them to me. “Might I suggest some vino after that little… outburst?”

I snorted and took the bottle. “You heard?”

Max whistled. “Your grandma heard, and she’s in a home, hours outside of the city, with a pair of noise-canceling headphones and an addiction to Riverdale.”

“Noise-canceling headphones?” I just had to ask.

“Oh, I never forget Christmas, and she’s such a good receiver — just ask Reid.” He winked while I literally felt my balls tingle with fear. A few years ago, the woman had attacked Reid with nothing short of super-human strength and a tube of ChapStick. She was basically the poster grandma for good-touch-gone-bad.

The guy still had nightmares — just another thing Max liked to discuss in his book and also, film for his blog.

“I didn’t chase her,” I admitted out loud, “but I was in shock, and by the time the shock wore off, I was so pissed, so angry, so sad—”

Max pulled me in for a hug. “Get it out, big guy.”

I shoved him away, causing wine to slosh out of the goblet. “I’m not hugging it out. I’m still pissed. I’m confused. I’m—”

“Horny.” Max nodded. “Because you’ve tasted, and now you’re addicted.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“But probably a bad idea to do that again until you have all this shit cleared up between you guys. Sex rarely makes things easier.”

I just stared at him in shock. “I hate it when you make sense.”

“Read my book!” He threw one hand up in the air. “Seriously, I’m your best friend—”

“Colt’s my best friend.”

“—so you should have already read it, memorized it, and left a five-star review on Amazon. Seriously, that’s how you feed authors. You give them stars.”

“Stars,” I repeated, my mind wandering to Maddy, lying in her room, looking up at the stars. My curiosity was killing me to find out if they were still there.

“Staaaaars…” Max dragged out the word. “You know, the things in the sky…” he pointed up, then sighed, “…at least, during the night.”

“Yeah.” If she’d kept the stars, did that mean she still felt something? Hell, I was acting like I was a teen again. Circle yes or no!

“Look…” Max wrapped his free arm around me, “…it sounds like she freaked out, bolted, and that you, in all your anger and — let’s admit it — pride, decided to just move on to the next psychotic bitch who gave you bedroom eyes.”

“Jane?”

“SHHH!” Max shoved me away. “Do you want her to appear?”

I frowned. “She lives in the city now.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Max trembled. “Never matters.” He grabbed the wine glass and threw its contents over his shoulder. “Let’s just hope this vino works like salt, since it contains alcohol.”

“None of what you just said makes sense,” I pointed out.