“Kota.” Maxx’s soft voice draws my attention back over to him. He’s watching me, his face drawn up with genuine concern. I try not to notice how muscular his arms are and fail miserably. The entire cab of that car is permeated with his scent, that fresh grass and drinks-by-the-pool smell that makes me fidgety. “Don’t blame yourself.”
“I’m not,” I protest, but then that weird urge to tell Maxx the truth grabs hold of me and refuses to let go. “But how can I not? I mean, I woke up in the woods and didn’t think twice about it. X, I was here. I was at this park. If I’d pulled up a map on my phone at any point and searched for a skatepark nearby, I might’ve been able to answer my own questions.”
“Why would that be your first conclusion? You said your pajamas were clean when you woke up,” he explains calmly, and that’s when it occurs to me how strange that scenario was in regards to my clothing.
So … someone stripped my pj’s down after and replaced them with an identical pair?
Or else they washed them, and then redressed me. Either scenario is, quite frankly, horrifying.
“Figuring this insanity out,” X continues, circling his finger around. “Isn’t something any normal person would ever be able to do.”
He’s right. I know that. But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept. Guilt sweeps over me as we make the drive to Chasm’s lake house. He’s given us the code to get in the front door, but we can only do that if the place is unoccupied.
When we first pull into the circular gravel driveway, it appears to be. There aren’t any other cars parked there, and all of the lights are off. Maxx pulls up to the house and then leans his forearms on the steering wheel, his mouth downturned in thought.
“Do we go in?” he asks, glancing over at me. “The chances of Parrish being in there are pretty slim. You’d think Chasm would know if his house had a wine cellar in it.”
“We have to go in,” I tell him, aching and wanting so badly for Parrish to be inside this building. It can’t be that easy, I know, but I also can’t stop myself from hoping so hard that my chest aches. “We’ll make it quick.”
I climb out and Maxx follows, catching up to me and grabbing me by the upper arm in a similar way to how he did in the parking garage this morning. I look down at his hand before lifting my gaze to his face. His expressions are always open and honest, even when they’re brutal.
The look on his face now is the same way: determined, resolute, immovable.
“We can go in there together, but if something bad happens, I want you to run.”
I give him a look, dropping my gaze to his hand where it’s wrapped around my arm again. Chasm’s words come filtering back to me. Stop touching me. I’d say that to Maxx right now, if the words weren’t also an admission of something else.
Of interest.
It hits me hard and fast then, something that I’ve known all along but that I didn’t care to admit to myself.
I have a crush on Maxx Wright.
I have a crush on my sister’s boyfriend.
Reaching out with my left hand—but careful to avoid my broken fingers—I extricate X’s grip from my arm in a manner similar to the one he used on me at the café. I go still with my three good fingers on his skin, heat pulsing through me.
The way he looked at me in the bathroom, with wide eyes and an impossible expression on his handsome face. Is he … is he feeling the same way right now?
Our eyes meet as X cautiously extracts his hand from mine.
“I can be dense sometimes,” I admit, and he gives me a strange look before hooking one of those all-American smiles of his.
“I highly doubt that. If anything, you’re too smart for your own good. Maybe you just overthink things?” he offers, looking up at the house. I’m not keen on the idea of going in there with some unknown guest supposedly in residence, but it’s too big of a clue to look past.
The skatepark is nearby. The woods are familiar. Chasm’s father knew (knows?) my bio dad.
Shaking out my hands, I start for the front door, rolling my eyes a bit as X takes the lead. If it makes him feel better, I’ll let him do it. He’s bigger and stronger than me anyway, particularly with the broken fingers, nose, and myriad bruises I’m sporting currently.
X pounds his fist on the door like a cop or something.
“Is there anyone in there?” he calls out, raising his voice enough that it echoes around the quiet, wooded property. Birds trill, and insects buzz, but those are the only sounds beside the gentle patter of the rain as it starts up again. I scoot closer to Maxx beneath the safety of the awning as he tries again. “If you’re inside, just let us know. We’re coming in.”
