Page 133 of Raise Me Up

As Dave, Hail, and Z drift into the garage to admire Liam’s old cars, I sneak back into the house to find Max, the only person missing from the group.

I’m not sure why he showed up without his wife, but I don’t want him to feel like we’re trying to leave him out.

Sometimes I wonder if Max’s standoffish nature stems from feelings of being an outsider to me and Hail’s twin bond.

“Hey.” I sit down beside him on the couch where he’s bouncing Felicity on his knee, his dress shirt sleeves haphazardly pushed up.

He attempts a smile, but it comes across as more of a grimace. “Hey.”

“I’m really glad you came.”

He fiddles with the hem of Felicity’s dress. Sensing something wrong, I make grabby hands at her. Is he sleep deprived? Is it his demanding career working for our dad that’s wearing him down?

Max pushes out a long breath and hands her over. “Heather and I are getting a divorce.”

I freeze for a second, waiting for the punchline. Max isn’t the type to crack jokes, though. He’s as serious as our father.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She’s…involved with someone else.” He holds firm to an expressionless mask. “I wasn’t aware I made her so unhappy, but…Idowork a lot…”

His eyes drop to where Felicity’s playing with a dainty bracelet on my wrist. “I offered to cut back on hours, but Heather’s not interested inworking through our problems. Ormy lack of effort in our marriageis how she worded it. I suppose we never really had chemistry. Not like Hail and his…fiancé. Not like you and Beau.”

“Oh, Max. That’s a lot for anyone to deal with.”

He runs a hand over his slacks, brushing away dog hair. He’s always been OCD when it comes to cleanliness. He would have had a heart-attack if he’d had to share a bathroom with me and Hail growing up. I’m not sure how he made it through years of football with close contact with man sweat and germs.

“I shouldn’t be offloading right now. Not the time or place,” Max says.

I frown. It’s weird picking up on the similarities between us. Max always appeared so put together—almost unbothered by whatever life threw at him—and yet it’s becoming clear he pushes aside and invalidates his feelings, too.

Felicity claps her hands together, and I have to bring her closer to kiss her cute little head.

“No matter what happens, you know I’m here for you,” I tell him.

His chin wobbles. “You shouldn’t be. I haven’t exactly been great to you or Hail. I don’t expect either of you to forgive me.”

“We were all under a lot of pressure growing up.”

He nods and clears his throat. “I just… I don’t think mom or dad will understand, you know?”

I wish I could laugh at the situation. If it wasn’t so fucking sad, I probably would. How long has he been hanging on to this secret, terrified of proving to our parents he’s mortal?

We’ve all failed to live up to our parent’s expectations in some form. And I’m going to be the biggest fuck up of all with my current situation.

Rage surges through me, fueled by the shame I still carry for failing to stick up for Hail all these years. I don’t want to be that weak personanymore. I have a damn voice and my own views on what’s right and wrong, and I’m bone-tired of us trying to cram ourselves into molds we were never meant to fit. It’s not healthy, and it’s not sparking any fucking joy.

“Hold on,” I say, handing Felicity back to my brother.

I pull out my phone. My Hail moment has been building for a long time. As much as I should confront my parents in person, I don’t want to give them any more of my time or energy.

Of course, my call goes straight to my dad’s voicemail. He doesn’t want to admit he’s making a huge mistake. Doesn’t want to take ownership of his failures with his kids.

“Hey, this message is for you and mom,” I start. “I just want you to know that all three of your children are having a wonderful Christmas without you. A shame you can’t pull your heads out of your asses enough to see what you’re missing. Also, I’m in a relationship with two men. Yeah, at the same time. I don’t plan on leaving either one of them, so save the lectures. I don’t care what you think anymore.”

When I hang up, Max’s eyes are practically bugging out of his head.

“There.” I toss my phone aside. “Now they’ll be too distracted by my bullshit and Hail’s ‘big gay wedding’ to care about your divorce.”