I flinch.

He’s had relationships? The very idea of Max with another woman hurts so much a strangled gasp leaves my throat. Of course I expected he’d move on . . . but thinking of it hurts more than I ever could have imagined. Not to mention he still lives in our old home. I’ve wanted to drive past it so many times, but haven’t been able to bring myself to do it, scared of the painful memories. Knowing he’s still there makes it so much worse.

“I’ll let her know, but I won’t push my daughter, Max, and neither will you.”

He makes a frustrated, sighing sound. “I’m not here to argue. If you see her, tell her I want to talk to her, but I won’t pressure her to do that. I’ll leave you to it.”

My mom says nothing more; she just closes the door with a soft click. I look over to Immy, who is digging through the candy packet and lining them up on mom’s bed. She’s oblivious, thank God. I need her to be, because the tears running down my face can’t be controlled. Mom appears in the doorway a second later, takes one look at me, and wraps me in her arms.

“Hush, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”

I make a strangled sound, because I don’t believe that.

Not even for a second.

CHAPTER THREE

THEN – COLLEGE – MAX

Sweat runs down my face as I jog towards the locker room to get changed before heading home. There’s a bonfire on tonight, and I’m supposed to be taking fucking Demi, even though she’s more than made it clear I’m a play-thing that she’ll use only when she needs a popularity boost. Our little break up lasted about four hours before she came crawling back, we got drunk and fucked.

I honestly don’t know why I put up with her. I guess for the same reasons she puts up with me. When you’re in the popularity chain, and you’re at the top, you do what you can to stay there. Not to mention when you’re a football star, people pay attention to where you stand in the popularity ranking. Demi is the reason I stay there—well that, and I’m a fucking great guy. Obviously.

“Yo, brother,” Reese greets me as I step into the locker room. “You ready for tonight?”

I pull off my shirt and dump the sweaty material in a basket, then nod and grin. “Fuck yeah. Should be awesome.”

“We’re loaded with beer. You taking your truck?”

“Yeah, man.”

“You going to swing by and get me?”

I nod.

“What about D?”

“She’s coming,” I grunt, dropping my pants and wrapping a towel around my waist.

“Heard Maci talking about the fight you two had earlier this morning.”

“Fight?” I grunt. “The bitch got angry because my dick wouldn’t stay hard for her.”

“Fucking burn!” Reese laughs. “I couldn’t stay hard for her, no matter how hot her tits are. She’s too much of a mouthy bitch.”

I snort. “You’re telling me. She can have my dick in her mouth and she’s still mumbling about something. She’s a fucking handful, that’s for damned sure.”

Reese shakes his head. “Fuck that. You need to find a good chick.”

I shrug. “Yeah, maybe.”

We shower and throw our things into our bags, then separate at the parking lot. I’m about to jump into my truck when I notice Belle standing next to a tiny, beat-up car, staring under the hood. She stomps a few times, and then runs her hands through her hair. It’s fucking adorable. Unable to help myself, I throw my bag into my truck and then walk over, stopping behind her.

“Got a problem, Blue Belle?”

She jumps, screams and topples forward. I wrap an arm around her waist, hauling her backwards and stopping her from falling beneath her hood. She stiffens in my arms, and I grin. Yep, cute.

“Car not working?” I say into her ear.

She twists out of my arms and turns, looking up at me. Fuck those eyes, they’re incredible, so fucking beautiful. I study her face, and find myself fascinated with the strawberry-blond hair that’s trailing down her shoulders. It’s long, and thick, and fucking sweet. She’s wearing a different pair of glasses; these are slim-line, and surprisingly look good on her. It gives her the naughty librarian look.

Who doesn’t want a naughty librarian?

She’s got a white dress with big black polka dots on it. Definitely not what you’d see most girls in, but it hugs her breasts before flaring out at her tiny waist, and that alone makes it look fucking good on her.

“I, ah, my car . . .”

Stammering again. My grin gets bigger. Her cheeks get pinker.

“Do I make you nervous, Blue Belle?”

She bites her bottom lip. Fuck.

“No.” She manages to speak without stammering. “I just . . . I don’t usually talk to people like you.”

“People like me?” I say, pressing a hand to my chest. “Should I be offended by that comment?”

She smiles shyly. “I don’t mean it in a nasty way, but surely you can see we’re on a whole different wavelength.”

I shrug. “I try not to pay attention to those things.”

She grunts. “You’re Maximus Jacobson. Of course you pay attention to those things.”

“Am I meant to know what that means?” I ask, reaching over and putting my hand on the opened hood, making my arm flex right near her cheek.

“It means,” she says, fidgeting, “that you know exactly what you are, who you are, and where you’re going. You are destined for big things. People like me? We’re happy to remain in the shadows.”

“You shouldn’t be in the shadows.”

Her eyes flash. “And you know that after one simple conversation?”

I grin. “Fuck yeah I do.”

She shakes her head and turns, staring at the car again.

“You need a ride?”

She sighs. “I’ll catch a bus. There are some that go by in the next few hours.”

“That’ll make it dark, and that’s dangerous. Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”

She turns and studies me, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

I smirk and reach around her, slamming the hood closed. Then I take her hand, tugging her towards my truck. “I won’t kill you, I swear it.”

She snorts. “Because that makes me feel so much better.”

“What other option have you got?”

She ponders that and then tugs her hand from mine. “Let me just lock my car.”

I wait as she does that, and then both of us walk to my truck. I open the door for her and she eyes me skeptically before climbing inside. I jump in the driver’s seat and turn to her. “Where do you live?”

She rattles off an address, and then stares out the window as we pull out of the parking lot. Her window is cracked slightly, letting some breeze in. Every now and then, the smell of vanilla and strawberries washes past me, and it takes everything inside for me not to grab her and kiss her. I bet she tastes just like that.

I need a distraction.

“What are you studying?” I ask her.

“I’m not sure of a major just yet, but I want to get into journalism.”

“Impressive.” I nod.