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R emi had just finished cleaning the Henderson house when she got the first text from Max since he left on his trip. She had been lying to herself for almost a week now, saying she wasn't hurt that he hadn’t reached out yet like he said he would. But now, seeing his name on her phone affirmed that yes, she absolutely had been upset with him.

She told herself every day since the night at the beach that it wasn't fair to be mad, that he didn't owe her anything. She didn't want him to text her because he owed her his time, she wanted him to text her because he valued hers.

Catching feelings wasn’t part of the plan; she didn't mix business with pleasure. But she fell, like a fucking idiot, and she didn’t know what that looked like for her because Max was good at a lot of things, but showing emotions was not one of them.

After placing her cleaning supplies into her trunk, and before she left for her next house of the day, she opened the text.

Max:

I’m sorry. I know I said I would reach out to you sooner, but I wasn’t in a good headspace.

Of course he was struggling, he was an NHL superstar goalie, warming the bench. Guilt flooded Remi for any ounce of anger she had towards him over his radio silence. She had watched the games, had seen him on the bench, his eyes hollow, vacant, and sad. She typed up her response.

Remi:

I understand.

He texted back immediately.

Max:

Thank you. I don’t deserve you.

She had two options: give him some space or take up some space. Typing her response, she led with her heart, in typical Remi fashion.

Remi:

Honestly… I miss you. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say that. I don’t know if that’s helpful for you right now, but I want you to know someone hundreds of miles away is missing your company, your face, and your terrible conversation skills.

When he didn't respond immediately, she wondered if she had said too much, pushing the narrative too soon. The puck was in his glove now, the next save was on him. She admitted her feelings, and now, Max had to find the words he so often struggled with to share his. If he couldn't, Remi knew she had to nip these feelings in the bud. She would clean and fix and organize a house for someone, but she knew from growing up with her mom that emotions were a different kind of mess, and Max had to sort out his feelings for her all on his own before she would allow herself to get tangled any further.

Putting her phone on silent, she got to work on her last house of the day. Max would be in Florida by now, most likely preparing to take a seat on the bench and watch as Jack Brown did his job in front of his net. Her heart ached for him. She couldn't fix him, but maybe, if he let her, she could at least prove to him he was worthy of being cared for.

***

When Max finally got back to his house, he unloaded his bag and made his way down to the beach. The heaviness of the failed road trip with the Condors sat on his chest like a weighted blanket. Taking off his shoes, he dug his feet into the sand, the natural elements seemingly grounding him, clearing his brain long enough to process what the next week looked like for him. It would be the first time since he was a young boy that he didn’t have hockey to fill his every waking moment.

The sound of the ocean calmed his racing heart, and he thought about the last time he saw Remi. Hesitantly, he pulled out his phone and stared at Remi’s last text that he had left on read; guilt shot through him. He had two options: He could tell her he needed space while he got his shit together, or he could ask her to take up space while he got his shit together.

Either way, he knew this week was not going to be easy.

His fingers traced over the text. He finally had someone who wanted him around and saw his flaws as endearing. Someone who challenged his comfort zone and was not afraid of his hangups. She liked him, and she didn't leave him guessing. The uncertainty he felt at the beach had been cleared up with one text from Remi, revealing so much about her character, her boldness, her relationship with her own emotions, and how aware of them she was. He both envied and admired that in her. He should have kissed her. Maybe he wasn't good at using his mouth to speak how he felt, but he was certain if he could press his lips against hers, he could use his mouth to show her how he felt.

Max:

I’m sorry I didn’t respond sooner.

To his surprise, she didn't leave him on read, like he felt he deserved.

Remi:

Why does it always feel like you're apologizing to me lately?

Max:

Because I never get it right with you the first time.

Remi:

Well, I guess I should thank you then.

Max:

For what?

Remi:

For giving yourself a chance to get it right the second time.

And he would get it right eventually. Maybe he would have to apologize to her a million more times before that happened, but for Remi, he wanted to stick around long enough to not only figure out how to get it right the first time, but how to do it without trying.

Max:

I miss you too. I’m sorry I didn't say it sooner.

He took a deep breath and waited for her to show him this was okay—that he was allowed to say these things back this time, and that he was allowed to care for her and want her.

Remi:

There you go apologizing again.

Max:

Can I make it up to you?

Remi:

You don’t have to make anything up to me. You’re doing just fine, Max Miller.

Max:

Just say yes.

Remi:

To what?

Max:

To everything.

Remi:

I do love a good adventure.

Max:

Well, I don’t come with a road map, and I can’t say I’ll be easy to navigate, but it could be interesting if nothing else.

Remi:

Then, I guess I say yes.

Max:

Yes, to what?

Remi:

Everything, of course.

She said yes. And to be fair, he wasn't even sure what he was asking of her in that simple word, but she agreed to it, and now, he had to try to say yes back. He had to bury the past, face the future, and own up to the present.

Max:

Now that that's settled, I guess it would be a good time to tell you I’m home.

Remi:

What do you mean you’re home?

Max:

Why don't you come over and find out.