Page 34 of Tide and Seek (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #8)

Relief painted her pretty features. “Maybe tell him to fight for that promotion. Tell him he’s worth it. If you feel comfortable addressing it, maybe hint he’s drinking too much?”

“God.” I winced, watching James sway slightly. He was already drunk, and the full glass in his hand suggested he wasn’t finished for the night. I met her concerned gaze. “I’m only doing this for you.”

“I know.” She squeezed my arm. “Thank you, Maxwell.”

“And be warned, this is the last time I’m getting involved in his personal life.”

“That’s fine.” She smiled weakly. “Use my bedroom. It’s private and you’ll be able to talk there without interruptions.”

I met Royce’s enigmatic gaze. “Is this okay with you?”

“Sure.” Royce forced a smile, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Go help your friend.” Considering what a jerk James had been to Royce when we first arrived at the party, that was very magnanimous of him.

Gut churning, I walked over to where James stood gripping the deck railing, the ocean breeze ruffling his dark hair. When he turned and saw me, his face tensed. I could see the alcohol’s effects in his slightly unfocused eyes.

“James,” I said quietly. “Can we talk?”

He looked surprised. “You want to talk?”

“Yes.”

He glanced past me to where Royce stood with C.J. “I’m surprised your boyfriend let you off your leash.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You two have been stuck like glue together all evening. It’s a party, you’re supposed to mingle,” he slurred.

“You mean like you’re doing over here alone in the dark with your drink?”

His face flushed. “It’s a party. There’s nothing wrong with having a drink or two.”

Or five?

“Look, if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. C.J. wanted me to do it, or I wouldn’t have bothered you.” I started to turn away. “Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

He grabbed my arm. “Maxwell, I… I’m sorry.”

I hesitated. “Do you want to talk, or not? Royce and I are leaving the party soon.”

“Yes,” he said quickly. “I want to talk.”

I carefully pulled my arm from his grip. “C.J. said we could talk in her bedroom where it’s private.”

“Okay,” he said, his tone more docile now.

I felt stiff as I led him through C.J.’s house to her master bedroom, closing the door behind us. The room reflected the same expensive coastal aesthetic as the rest of her house, softened with warm textures that made the space feel inviting rather than austere.

The silence between us was heavy, which was sad.

There’d been a time when our silences had been easy.

When I’d felt like I knew and understood James better.

It also felt uncomfortably intimate being alone with him in a bedroom.

Considering our history, I probably should have thought of that before suggesting it, but it was too late now.

“So,” James said, settling heavily on the edge of the bed. “C.J. asked you to stage an intervention?”

“She’s worried about you.” I hesitated. “We both are.”

His laugh was tinged with bitterness. “Come on, Maxwell, don’t pretend you give a shit about me. You moved to Rainy Dale and I never even heard from you again. You did a pretty good job of pretending I didn’t exist back then. Why lie about caring now?”

I sat down in a chair next to the dresser, across from him. “You’re right,” I said quietly. “I didn’t end things well with you. I feel very guilty about that.”

“You didn’t end them at all,” he rasped. “You just left.”

I winced. “James, I didn’t come in here to talk about us. I… I wanted to talk about the promotion you’re up for, and maybe touch on the fact that you’re drinking too much.”

He shook his head. “I see. Still the same old Maxwell. Still can’t talk about feelings without having to run away.”

“I… I simply don’t see the point of discussing our past relationship. It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. I never promised you anything, James.”

“No.” His bottom lip quivered. “You didn’t. You were very careful not to make actual promises. But you knew I hoped you’d change your mind.”

“I didn’t know that, not back then. I was tuned out, you know I was.” I exhaled, feeling the weight of it. “Now I get it, James, and I’m sorry I hurt you. But back then, I just didn’t know how to connect with anyone.”

His face darkened. “But that hick taught you how to connect? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“James—”

“Do you know what it’s like, Maxwell? Watching the person you love move on like you never even mattered?”

Heat crawled up my neck and my chest ached at the raw pain in his voice.

I resented him calling Royce a “hick,” but I also knew he wasn’t in his right mind.

This wasn’t the James I’d known. James had always been calm, deliberate, a man who chose logic over sentiment.

The man in front of me now was nothing but roiling emotion.

“I’m really sorry,” I said quietly. The talk was veering off the rails, and I had no idea how to stop it.

James thought I didn’t care that I’d hurt him, but he was wrong.

I did care. I’d never intended to hurt him.

But I hadn’t loved him, and that was just a fact.

I’d cared about him, but that hadn’t been what he wanted.

That hadn’t been enough, and now he was hurt because I’d fallen in love with someone else.

James stood up abruptly, moving closer to where I sat. “That’s your response to me telling you I love you? You’re sorry?”

I stood too, belatedly realizing that just made me feel trapped in the space between him and the chair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I can’t help that I fell in love with Royce. I don’t even regret it.”

He winced and said flatly, “And I’m just supposed to suck it up.”

“What else can you do, James? The past is the past. What you need to be focused on is the future. Your career. You can’t let alcohol or... other disappointments derail everything you’ve worked for.”

“Other disappointments?” he slurred. “Is that what you call the fact that I love you but can’t have you?”

“James—” I grimaced. “I do care about you. You were a good friend to me. You stood by my side when other people turned on me. I don’t want you to think that you don’t matter to me. You do matter, but as a friend.”

“A friend.” James laughed harshly.

“That’s all we can be now. You know that.”

“Do I?” James stepped closer, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Why is it you feel guilty, Maxwell?”

“You mean about you?”

“Yeah. If you didn’t lead me on and you did nothing wrong, why are you guilty?” His eyes glittered with resentment. “I think you know you led me on. You gave me just enough to keep me hooked.”

I shook my head. “No. You’re wrong. I didn’t try to… hook you. That wasn’t what I wanted at all. I didn’t know how to be with anyone.” I hesitated. “Maybe I could have been clearer about how I saw things, but it’s too late now.”

Something shifted in his expression, and he moved even closer. “But how could I love you and you not love me back?” He sounded so sincerely confused, it hurt. “Every time we were together, when I looked in your eyes, it seemed like you felt the same things.”

“I didn’t though. Or I wouldn’t have left.” I took a step back, the back of my legs bumping into the chair behind me. “James, I’m with Royce now. I love him.”

He didn’t seem to be listening. He reached for my face, leaning his body against mine. “But it was so good between us—”

“James, don’t—”

But he was already leaning in, trying to kiss me.

If he’d been a stranger, I’d have kneed his groin or tried to hurt him to get him to back off.

But James wasn’t a stranger, and I didn’t really want to hurt him.

I just wanted him to stop making a fool of himself.

I jerked my head back and grabbed his wrists, trying to push him away.

“No,” I hissed, attempting to shove him back. “I’m serious, James. This is fucking bullshit. Get off me.”

“I know you care more than you’ll admit,” he growled, putting one big hand loosely around my throat.

“Stop,” I said angrily, fury overriding the guilt. “You’re out of line.”

“Come on, Max—”

“For the last time, get your hands off me.” My voice was cold and harsh, and disappointment in James made my throat ache. Never in a million years would I have envisioned James acting like this.

When he made no move to back off, I shoved him hard and he stumbled backward, his face flushed with embarrassment and alcohol. “I just thought... the way you were looking at me...”

“Bullshit. I was looking at you like a friend,” I said sharply. “Nothing more.”

“Max, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.” I moved toward the door, heart racing. “You meant exactly what you did. You thought you could use my guilt to manipulate me into something I’ve made clear I don’t want.”

“That’s not... I wouldn’t...”

I turned back to face him, and he must have seen something in my expression that made him stop talking. He sat down on the edge of the mattress as if his legs had given out.

“Get help, James. For the drinking, for whatever this is. But don’t keep using me as an excuse to wallow.

I’m not the reason you don’t get everything you want in life.

That’s ridiculous. You want that promotion, fight for it.

Don’t turn into a drunk because you’re too scared to even try in case you fail. ”

I left him sitting on the edge of C.J.’s bed and walked back out to the party, shaking with anger. Royce was standing by the railing, and when he saw my face, he immediately moved toward me.

“Everything okay?” he asked quietly.

“Not really,” I said curtly. “Can we please go?”

“Of course.” He was frowning as he studied me. I could see he wanted to ask me what had happened, but he stopped himself.

We sought C.J. out so we could say our goodbyes and one look at my face wiped the smile off hers.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Was James an asshole to you?”

I gave a hard laugh. “You could say that.”

“I’m sorry, Maxwell.”

“It’s okay.” I tried to smile, but my face was too stiff to accomplish the task. “Thank you for the party, C.J.”

Her mouth drooped. “You’re welcome.” I knew she wanted to say she was sorry again, but she held it in.

We escaped into the cool night air, and as we walked the short distance back to my house, I wrestled with whether to tell Royce what had happened.

As we climbed the steps to my deck, James emerged from C.J.

’s house. He didn’t glance over. He walked unsteadily toward his own place, head down.

Watching him go, I felt a complicated mix of anger and disillusionment.

As we entered my home through the back, Royce said quietly, “You okay, Max? If you tell me you are, then I’ll leave you be.”

“I’m fine.” I closed the door behind us and said hoarsely, “But people can be so goddamned disappointing.”

He didn’t speak, he simply pulled me into his arms and held me tight. I leaned on him, needing his strength to center me as I inhaled his familiar, comforting scent. I was flustered by how James had acted. I already had a deep distrust of people, and tonight James had done more harm than good.

“If you want to talk, I’m here.” Royce’s voice was gentle.

“I don’t want to talk.” That had nothing to do with trusting Royce and everything to do with being confused. I’d probably end up telling him everything that had happened, but at the moment my thoughts were too jumbled. “Can we just go to bed?”

“Of course.” He let go of me and we made our way upstairs.

Once in the big bed, we moved together. Because our bodies were so close, I could tell that he was aroused.

But he made no attempt to push for sex. He simply held me and stroked my hair.

Eventually, my anxiety calmed and my lids grew heavy, and listening to the steady beat of Royce’s heart, I finally fell asleep.