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Max nodded with another shrug.
Her face pinched sourly, as if he’d suddenly sprouted two brain-dead heads. “What were you thinking? That young man is so big.” Her frown deepened. “And he’s your friend, Max. Your friend.”
“I know.” Max exhaled. “It won’t happen again.”
She studied him, eyes wary, then smiled and hugged him close. “Good,” she murmured. “You’re too handsome for black eyes.”
Max’s lips curved as he lifted her off her feet. “I’ll pass that on to Scott.” He kissed her cheek and squeezed tight. “He’ll be absolutely mortified that you know.”
“Behave,” she laughed softly, but then tensed in his arms. “You did tell him you’re sorry, right? You two are still friends?”
Max set her down. “Yes, Mom. We’re fine. Don’t worry.”
Her smile returned. “Good. Now sit and I’ll feed you.”
Max frowned. That sounded like the makings of a long visit. He scratched his neck uneasily and glanced toward the living room. “Uh... I’m actually kinda short on time. Got just enough to rearrange the furniture and then I gotta—”
“Forget the furniture,” she cut in with a wave of her hand.
“But you wanted—”
“I changed my mind.”
Max leveled her with a look. Changed her mind, his ass. She never planned on doing it to begin with. But his annoyance ebbed just as quickly as it came. Because, again, the only reason she’d resorted to trickery was to get her lame-ass son to come and visit.
Conceding with a sigh, he sat down at the table. “Thanks… Smells amazing.”
“Your father’s favorite.”
Yeah, he remembered. Back when he was a kid, they’d eat it every Sunday, even if his dad was away on duty. “Your father is here in spirit,” Max’s mom would always say. The times his dad was home, though, come hell or high water, he’d kick off each meal with an Irish prayer.
For food in a world where many walk in hunger;
For faith in a world where many walk in fear;
For friends in a world where many walk alone;
We give you thanks, O Lord. Amen.
Even now Max could hear his dad uttering the words. Could see him smile across the table at Max’s mom.
A steaming bowl of stew appeared in front of him, a glass of cider right on its heels. Max’s mom gave a smile, then went to get hers. Max frowned and peered down at his food. Chunks of meat and potatoes, carrots and onions, slow-cooked to mouthwatering perfection. If he was hungry, that is. But he wasn’t. At all.
And truth be told, his jaw was still sore.
His mom sat down across from him. “Thank you for coming.”
Max nodded, feeling like a piece of shit for the hundredth time today. She shouldn’t have to thank him for coming to see her. He was her son, for fuck’s sake. It was his duty.
His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry I don’t stop by more often.”
“I know.” Her smile softened. “But at least you’re here now.” She picked up her cider. “How is work?”
Max shifted in his chair. Nodded again. “Pretty good. The kids this year are abnormally talented.”
“Really?” She perked in visible interest.
“Yeah. Absolutely. I’ve been so impressed that I set up an end of the year art show at a local gallery.”
“Max!” His mom beamed. “That’s wonderful. I want to come.”
“Okay,” Max chuckled. “But it’s kinda far from here. Over an hour each way.”
“I don’t care.”
Of course, she didn’t. ‘Cause she was awesome like that.
“You can crash at my place if you want.”
“Thank you. I just might. We’ll figure it out.”
Max nodded and dropped his gaze to his stew.
His mom picked up her fork. “Tell me about Scott. I miss his beautiful spirit.”
Max shrugged. “Not much to tell. He’s still training full time.”
“Getting bigger?”
“Nah. He’s leveled off.”
“Have a boyfriend?”
Max paused. “Actually, yeah.”
“Really? How wonderful!” Her happy surprise was palpable. “Do they work together? Is he handsome? Do you like him? Is he nice?”
Max fought back a scowl at her barrage of questions, but answered them nevertheless in clipped order. “No. Yeah. Kinda. And he better fucking be.”
Her lips twitched. “Even now, you consider yourself Scott’s protector.”
Max eyed her drolly and pointed at his face. “I think he can take care of himself just fine.”
She laughed with a nod. “It certainly appears so.”
Max forced a small smile. Dropped his gaze back down.
“And what about you, Max?”
Aw, hell. “What about me?”
“Do you have a boyfriend? Someone special in your life?”
His heartbeat kicked up a notch. His stomach turned in dread. She was leading their conversation to a place he didn’t want to go. He dropped his hands to his lap. Rubbed his thighs. “No. But I don’t date, so… there you go.”
“You should.”
“Not interested.”
“You’d rather be alone?”
A dull ache sprung up in the center of his chest. Max shifted his gaze to the window. “Yeah. I’m better off.”
“No, you’re not, Max. Solitude… It doesn’t fit you. But more than that, you deserve to be loved.”
