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I’d asked Veronica for a ride because I knew it would piss off Max. He barely tolerated my friends, let alone someone he didn’t know. I wassomad at him. Mad at him for making me feel so much and not reciprocating any of it. Mad he had the power to hurt me over and over again and mad that I allowed it.
It was stupid and juvenile, but I wanted to bother him even just a fraction of the way he bothered me.
And yeah, maybe I knew Veronica had a crush on me. Maybe it was nice to have someone see something in me I wished Max could.
But I shouldn’t use someone else to do any of that. Especially when she had literally zero chance.
“Are you ready?” she asked, pulling away from the hospital entrance.
The familiar rumble of Max’s Harley Iron 883 filled the silence.
Veronica looked into her rearview mirror. “Guess he wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to follow us.”
I leaned my head against the seat, briefly closing my eyes. “Yeah. He was serious.”
And I seriously had to figure out a way to put some distance between us.
10
Max
This little shit.
Wes tried my patience like literally no one else on this entire planet. Even when I knew what he was doing, it still worked.
Currently, he was sitting in the passenger side of Shirley’s Honda, chatting it up like they were lifelong friends. First of all, they were not. Second of all, you’re damn right I’m gonna call her Shirley. My brain had no space for her actual name. And it was better than what Ireallywanted to call her.
Showing up at the hospital like she had some right to be there. Bringing him a bag of greasy food like it wouldn’t make him sick as hell. Wes just had to go and ask for a ride home.
By the way, her driving sucked.
I stood on the sidewalk in front of the townhouse I shared with Win, glowering through the windshield while Wes ignored me. He was clearly pissed off. Jamie’s and Ryan’s ire made a little more sense after the way Wes reacted to remembering before the accident. Clearly, he’d left the diner because of me.
It made me feel like shit.
You did what you had to do.
Most everything I did was for Wes. Even the shitty stuff. Even the stuff I didn’t want to do. I cut off that line of thought because it was useless. And it didn’t matter. My actions were still mine to own and not his responsibility.
His accident was still too raw. My nerves felt like open wounds that even the faintest breeze could set afire with pain.
Shirley leaned across the center console of the car and smiled. My patience snapped like a rubber band, the sting of it spurring me down the sidewalk to beat on the passenger window.
Wes rolled the glass partially down to glance through the crack at me. My teeth made a horrible sound when they ground together.
“Go ahead in,” he said.
With a growl, I ripped open the door, and it bounced back and hit my hip as I leaned into the car to unhook his seatbelt. “You have a head injury. Get in the house.”
“I’m sitting down.”
The Lord is testing me today.“It’s cold out.”
He ignored me, and my teeth ground again. “Thanks for the ride, Ronnie.”
Ronnie?Spots. Actual black spots floated in my vision.
“I’ll see you around.” Wes went on.
