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Again and again, he shared himself and his world, wanting nothing more than the same simplicity from Max. The promotional piece Sean had posted in the paper hit him next. Then Sean’s last-ditch effort when Max came home early today. All those times and so many more, he’d been trying to show Max. To show him that he was there for him. Always.
Max’s stomach turned so hard in realization, he nearly puked.
Scott was right. Oh, Jesus. Scott was right about everything.
Sean had never given up, all this time, not once. Hell, he’d been fighting the whole battle for fucking both of them. Holding the line alone, taking all the hits. Never once relenting until Max finally took him out. The one man that should’ve been fighting at his side had laid him out cold in the dirt. Cold in the dirt, half dead and bleeding, with Max’s bayonet buried in his chest.
Max choked on his shame and looked back at his friend. “Fuck, Scott. What do I do? I don’t know how to fix this. All these years… I don’t know how to let him in.”
A deep frown etched Scott’s handsome face. He stepped back in close, clutched Max’s shoulders and held his gaze. “When you feel that urge to run… or to put up another wall… You fight it, Max. You fucking fight it. Do you hear me? You beat it down.”
Max searched Scott’s eyes, his heart hammering out of his chest.
Scott sighed and pressed their brows together. “Giving in’s not the same as giving up, Max. It’s different. Let him teach you. Let him show you. You can trust him, Max. You can.”
“I don’t know how to trust.”
“Well, you better figure it out, ‘cause you’re about to lose him. And that’ll crush you worse than any risk taking ever could.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
207.
Max stared at the door. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Couldn’t believe he was there. But, fuck, after Scott’s little Come-to-Jesus talk, wild horses couldn’t keep him away.
He needed to apologize. To make things right.
He needed to fight for Sean, like Sean did for him. Repeatedly. While Max just stood there shooting him down.
Max swallowed back a groan, the guilt eating him alive. Would Sean forgive him? After everything? After all the shit Max did? He wouldn’t blame Sean if he didn’t. Max had stolen his spark. But now he was there to give it back.
Or try to. If Sean would let him.
Drawing in a lungful, he lifted his knuckles and gave a knock. Footsteps resounded, headed his way. Max’s heart picked up speed. His palms went clammy. He could do this. For Sean, he could fucking do this.
The door swung open. “You.”
Max stilled at Jonah’s tone. He sounded angry. And accusatory. Downright resentful. Guess he’d talked to his roommate. “Where’s Sean?”
Jonah’s lip curled back. “How the fuck would I know? Just got home. Found a note. He’s gone.”
Max tensed. “What do you mean, he’s gone?”
Jonah clenched his jaw. Fire blazed in his eyes. “I mean, he left. Isn’t coming back. And it’s all your fucking fault!”
Oh, fuck. Max’s heart hit the gas. “Left where?” he demanded. “Where did he go?”
“I told you, I don’t know! He didn’t say!”
Max ground his teeth. “Well then what did he say?”
“That he was done. That he “couldn’t do this anymore.” That he wouldn’t be back.”
Jesus.
“But what about graduation?”
“I dunno! I mean, he took his finals and passed. Obviously, he doesn’t care about the ceremony.”
Damn it. Max dragged a restless hand down his face. “Okay… Okay… So, then that means he’s on his way to the airport, right? Leaving for Australia early or something?”
“No.” Jonah frowned, shaking his head.
Max’s every muscle tightened. “What do you mean, no?”
“He cancelled his trip over a week ago. I heard him talking about it on the phone to his mom.”
What the fuck? He cancelled it? But he’d been looking forward to that trip forever.
Another load of stifling guilt dumped on Max’s soul.
“So… What…. He went home then, to his parents’ place?”
Jonah’s face turned anxious. He shook his head again. “I … I don’t think so.” He didn’t look as mad anymore. Now he looked downright worried.
Max’s blood pumped faster. “Jonah. What aren’t you telling me? Why don’t you think he’s going home?”
“Because he didn’t pack his clothes!” he blurted, voice cracking with stress. “Said in his note that I could keep all his shit! Said that where he was going he wouldn’t need any of it!” He threw out his hands, his expression beyond stressed. “Where in the fuck can a guy fucking go where he doesn’t need his motherfucking clothes?!”
Max stilled completely. What the—? That didn’t make any sense. He shoved through the door, sending Jonah stumbling, and bee-lined it down the hall to Sean’s room. His eyes locked on Sean’s dresser. He yanked open each drawer. Full, every one of them. He stalked to Sean’s closet. Still loaded with clothes. He hit the bathroom next. Toothbrush still present. Jesus. Max’s heart raced faster, his imagination taking over.
