“She didn’t tell you on purpose,” Maxx says, still smiling. He reaches out, like he’s going to tousle my hair or something but then seems to think better of it. Part of me wishes he would’ve done it while the rest of me figures it was for the best. If he’s thinking about tousling my hair, then clearly I fall into the Little Sister category again. Which is fine. Which, really if you think about it, is good. Great, actually. “She knew if she told you she wasn’t coming, you’d bail. And she thinks you really need this.”
“So she sent you?” I ask, quirking a brow and trying not to notice how pretty Maxx’s dark hair looks in the sunlight. It isn’t mine to stare at.
“She sent me,” he confirms, opening the back door of the Jeep and yanking out a small backpack. “Here.” He hands it to me and then nods his head in the direction of the restrooms. “I got you some basic gear. Maxine helped me out with the sizing. You should go change and then we can hit the trail.”
I swallow back a half-dozen different replies that just don’t seem to cut it, settle for nodding, and then follow his instructions. Once I’m inside the women’s restroom area, I set the bag on the sink and rummage through the contents.
Apparently, Maxx’s idea of ‘basic gear’ and my idea of basic gear are entirely different entities. There’s a pair of those expensive hiking pants with the tag still attached but the price scratched off, a metal water bottle that’s cool with condensation, a freaking Fitbit, and some hiking boots with thick socks. On top of all that, there’s a jacket, a sports bra (this better have been Maxine’s idea), and a note.
Maxx is a good guy; he’ll keep you safe and on the right trails! I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I love you fierce, and I’ll see you soon. Love, Maxie
I smile at the note before folding it up and tucking it into the pocket of the fancy hiking pants.
Once I’m dressed in my new gear, I meet X outside on the trail. He’s waiting on a bench, typing something out on his phone.
“Is that my sister?” I ask, and he pauses, lifting his head up to look at me. Our eyes meet and something weird happens in my belly, just like it did that night at the party. See, that’s my problem as of late. Lots of people seem to be able to make something weird happen in my belly. So how do I know if any of them are worth pursuing? Or maybe, as Delphine suggested, none are. Having a lover around is hardly a requirement for a happy or fulfilled life. It could, on the other hand, be fun though.
“No, it’s Parrish actually,” he admits which makes that weirdness in my stomach clench a little tighter. I can only imagine the things he says to Chasm and Maxx about me when I’m not around. When X stands up from the bench, I’m hyperaware of the way he moves, like he’s in control of every muscle, every movement. Nothing Maxx ‘X’ Wright does is an accident. That, and he doesn’t apologize for anything either. He grins at me as he tucks his phone away and then looks me over. “I hear from Maxine that you’re not much of a hiker?”
I reach up to tug on my black and lime green pigtails, as if that’s an indication of my gamer girl status.
“I prefer curb stomping trolls online,” I admit as Maxx lifts a single brow in response. “Also, what am I supposed to do with this?” I jiggle the Fitbit—it’s basically a simple smartwatch for tracking steps, calories burned, and heart rate—around in my hand. “I couldn’t bring my phone or else Tess would know that I’ve left not only Medina, but Washington altogether.”
“Here.” Maxx reaches out without hesitation, taking the Fitbit and hooking it around my wrist. I wish I could pretend that I don’t feel the warmth of his fingertips tingling against the sensitive flesh, but that would be a lie. Control your actions, even if you can’t control your thoughts. I exhale sharply as he hooks the clasp and then releases me. “Your sister set it up with your height and weight already.”
And then Maxx hands me something miraculous: a phone.
A phone that isn’t attached to Tess’ account, that isn’t subject to Tess’ rules or the weird parenting apps she’s installed to monitor me. My mouth drops open as I take the phone in my hand and turn the screen on, only to find a picture of me and Maxine set as the background.
“It’s a gift from your grandparents,” he says, offering up a tight smile. “After Maxine told them what happened to your phone, they got this for you. It’s your old number, too.”
