Page 5 of Invisible String (The Underground #1)

MAX

“ F uck!” I shout, unlocking the door to the house.

That laugh shook me to my feet. How could I forget such a beautiful, carefree laugh like hers?

Her laugh is a light switch to a dark room.

I wonder if she still lives in Carson City or if she lives in Tahoe.

She had a shitload of food. It only means she lives here, right?

She’s beautiful.

I’m unsure if those are even the right words because she left me speechless. I followed her when she stormed off like she was competing in a grocery game show. I wanted to see if it was really Rainey. When she gazed into my eyes, I confirmed it was her. Never did I think I’d run into her.

The door makes a loud squeak when I walk in.

I’ve never been to Mike’s family’s vacation home.

It’s designed to look like a cabin. It’s a three-bedroom house.

The house smells stale, as if it’s been sitting for a long time.

Which it probably has. Once I open the windows and air it out, I put the sandwich and beers in the fridge and leave one on the counter.

With a twist of the bottle cap, I slump on the stiff leather sofa.

The seven-hour drive was long, but much needed.

I scroll through Netflix, but decide to go to bed. It’s already two in the morning. I chug the last of the beer, and then I doze off.

The warm glow of the sun on my face jolts me awake.

I shiver as a cool breeze enters through the open window.

I’m used to Vegas’ blistering heat waves.

Although this is nice—cold but comfortable.

Reaching for my phone on the floor next to the sofa, I yawn and check the time. Damn, I slept till noon.

Standing, I stretch and wash up. I’m used to my routine of workouts in the morning at the gym.

Since I don’t have a punching bag, I guess running it is.

My shoes crunch on the gravel as I pick up speed toward the lake.

The house is conveniently situated just a twenty-minute walk away.

Mike’s place and the neighboring house are nestled so close together that they seem almost intertwined.

These are the only two houses in the area, standing side by side like sentinels.

Behind them stretches a dense, sprawling forest, its towering trees and thick underbrush providing a natural, secluded haven away from the bustle of the outside world.

The light breeze feathers through my hair. Inhaling, I take in the pine and the freshness of the water. I run along the lake and take a detour on a trail leading into the forest. This time of year, Tahoe has a lot of tourists. There are several people hiking.

It’s been years since I’ve been here. The memories of my childhood flood me.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” Mom says with a smile on her pretty face. “Turning five is special.” She spreads butter on my pancakes and drizzles a lot of syrup, just like I love it.

“Thank you, Mom.”

My stomach growls when I’m about to take a bite. She laughs. “It’s a good thing I made you a stack of them.”

I nod. “Can we go for a walk after we eat?”

She slices into her pancakes. “That’s a good idea. Then I’ll come back and make your cake. How about a strawberry cake with whipped cream on top? Then, when Dad gets home, we will have a special dinner, your favorite meal. Open a gift and have cake. How does that sound?”

“I like that idea.”

“Let’s eat up, baby.”

We eat, and then Mom takes me on a walk along the trail. Mom loves to find rocks and paint them. “How’s this rock, Mom?” It’s a flat, smooth rock.

“Oh, that one is perfect, Max. Perfecto, you’re a good rock finder.” Mom always praises me.

“Thank you, Mom.”

She winks. “ Te amo , Max.”

Staring at the abandoned, boarded house, my heart sinks. A year later, she passed. I ran three miles to get to the home that once held memories of laughter and love. That’s all it is—memories, which I buried a long time ago. Being here is resurfacing them.

After taking a five-minute breather, I head back. My body is dripping with sweat. To cool off, I decide to jump into the lake, and water splashes around. Fuck, it’s cold.

“Hey, what the hell, asshole!” a girl shouts.

I didn’t notice anyone there. Wiping the water in my eyes, I look to see the pissed chick. Rainey . What is she doing here?

Her eyes enlarge. “Oh, s-sorry.” She jumps from the folding chair she was lying on, grabs her book, and runs off.

My mouth stays shut, but what the hell would I say? Nothing, because there’s nothing to say to her. My gaze follows where she’s heading, and it’s to the house next door to Mike.

Dammit.

She’s definitely not the same girl. When I first met her, she was a determined little thing who followed me around and talked my ears off.

Now, she’s running from me. It shows she knows who I am.

Maybe she found out I was nothing more than a homeless foster kid bouncing from homes.

All my life, they treated me like a plague.

It makes no difference now. It’s better this way—Rainey keeps her distance.

My steps trail behind her. Rainey must think I’m following her.

She keeps gazing back when she reaches the balcony of the vast cabin.

She stands in her small bikini and peers at me.

I pay her no attention and go to my cabin right the hell next door.

She huffs when I open the door. Yeah, she must hate I’m her damn neighbor.

Seven years ago, she asked me to kiss her, and I let her in—into my space .

I let her touch me. We both shared our first kiss.

I have never let another woman in. Mainly, because I’m not that type of man.

The abuse I had to endure all my life until I learned how to box abhorred me with a remembrance of them throwing punches at me, throwing me around, and whipping me.

The touch of hands on me never felt right; it only serves to recall all those who hurt me.

I promised myself I’d let no one in again.

She knew nothing about my life. I let her get close enough to feel how warm her touch was and how I enjoyed the feel of her soft, plump lips heavy on mine.

But that was then, and now we’re better off pretending we don’t know one another. It’s better for her.

Warm water trickles down my body. I’m relieved Mike has body wash in here. Mine is in the car, along with my clothes. Damnit. Seeing Rainey rattled me so much I forgot to get my stuff.

Once I’ve dried myself, I wrap the towel around my waist, put on my slides, then go outside to retrieve my clothes.

When I grab the big container and the beat-up suitcase out of my car, the blinds next door move. Let’s hope the towel doesn’t drop to the floor and give my nosy neighbor a view. Now, I’m wondering if she lives alone or maybe with a guy. I shake my head. Why in the hell should I care?

My phone rings on the table by the bed.

“Hello, Carlos,” I answer through the receiver.

“Hey, Max, I’m just calling to see if you’re okay.”

I drop the towel and grab a pair of boxers and jeans. With the phone pressed to my ear, holding it with my shoulder, I slip on my boxers and jeans and answer him.

“I’m good. I went out for a run. I just got back.”

I can hear the click-clack of the pistachios.

“Great. So, a friend of mine asked if I knew anyone looking for a job. If you’re interested, he’s a plumber who will need a helper in the next few weeks. Once you clear your head and are ready.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep you updated.”

He sighs. “Are you okay, Max? You know you can talk to me about anything.”

I appreciate Carlos for being the only person in my life who gives a shit about me, but he can’t fix me. I’m not sure if I can fix myself. The trauma that I’ve been through has left scars all over me.

“I know I can, and I appreciate it more than you think.”

“All right. You have my number. You can call me day or night. Oh, and there’s a competition coming up if you’re interested.”

“Thanks. Yeah, sign me up in case I’m back.”

We hang up, and I take the sandwich out of the fridge and devour it.

Standing by the window, I watch like a creep as Rainey slips into her nice vehicle. She backs out and then slams into the dumpsters. My lips twitch. Fuck, she’s a horrible driver. She speeds off without a care in the world.

Once she leaves, I lounge on the front porch, twisting a beer open and rolling a joint.

Twenty minutes later, she’s back. With my thumb and index finger, I pinch the bud out.

Rainey parks between the two homes. Then she grabs a bag from the back seat that says something like “Books.” Now I’m reminded of when she read The Thorn Birds to me.

She pays me no attention, not that I’d want her to.

She slams the front door closed. Five minutes later, she’s back with a bowl, book, and blanket.

It’s evening now, and a cool breeze causes the trees in the back to sway.

The calming night therapeutically has me leaning back into my chair, legs spread.

There was supposed to be a boxing fight tonight at the Palace Trop Casino.

I had set my phone on a timer for when it starts.

Clicking on the app, it opens up the main event.

CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH .

How fucking loud can a person crunch eating a damn chip? It echoes in the dark forest.

CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH .

Hell, how can she read? She might as well crunch in my ear and cause me to lose my hearing.

I raise the volume. There had been a time in my life when I wanted to be a professional boxer.

It’s not that I’m not good. I can knock a person out in the third round.

I’m fast, and I throw hard punches. Boxing takes time to make your way up, and I had to work.

When I moved foster homes after leaving Mike’s and into the other home, I worked part time for a paycheck, plus working at Carlos’ gym to pay for my lessons.

When I turned eighteen, the foster care system kicked me out.

CRUNCH, SLURP, CRUNCH .

Goddamnit. In a flash, I raise the volume. The ring announcer yells, “Let’s get ready to rumble!”

Anton Ivanovo from Russia vs. Miklo De La Cruz from Mexico. The crowd roars. Anton rocks back and forth from side to side, then gives the first punch. Miklo blocks. He’s quicker, faster, but his punches don’t affect Anton’s built body.

“Why don’t you raise the volume a little louder, asshole?” Rainey yells, tossing the book down as she stands.

My eyebrows rise. Is she serious?

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t crunch like a horse. I’m sure you scared off the deer and bears.”

She rolls her pretty eyes. “WOW, he speaks.” We both stay silent. Then she huffs. “Why didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” she says in a low voice. “Then you don’t acknowledge me like we’ve never met.”

I don’t understand why it matters. I shrug. “You ran off when you yelled at me for accidentally splashing you, and at the grocery store as well.” I lift my hands and stand.

“Because you didn’t say goodbye seven years ago. Nothing. You disappeared.” She points a finger.

From that day, I thought she didn’t think of me, or that my absence didn’t affect her, but the somber eyes clearly say otherwise.