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“Wish I could,” Jazz huffs, turning away a little to wipe a hand at her cheek. “I’ll give it a try, Cap. But if it wasn’t my fault, then it wasn’t yours, either. Okay?”
Bricker nods, even though he clearly doesn’t believe her.
As we prepare to leave, I subtly swipe a dirty fork from a plate on the coffee table and, holding it carefully, slip it into my pocket without making a sound while Bricker says his goodbyes to Jazz.
Jazz’s explanations sound convincing, but we need to be sure.
CHAPTER36
BRICKER
On the way home,I suggest we pick up something along the way. “Pizza?” is my half-hearted suggestion. But Max offers to cook dinner, and I’m more than happy to let him take the lead.
“Let me make you somepasta aglio e olio,” he says, his voice warm and inviting. “It’s good after a day like today. Simple but delicious. And it’ll warm you up on the inside.”
And now I watch him move around the kitchen, chopping garlic and heating oil in a pan. The aroma of the food soon fills the air, and for the first time all day, I feel my shoulders relaxing. “What, no bacon?” I grin at his disapproving look. “Seriously, this smells great. Thanks.”
I grab plates ready to serve it into and lay silverware out on the table. Max glances over at me as he stirs the pasta. “How are you holding up?”
I give him a noncommittal shrug. “I’m okay.”
He doesn’t push, just concentrates on the food. Ten minutes later, we sit down to eat, and I try to avoid eye contact and focus on the steaming pile of spaghetti in front of me.
I can’t get Van’s confession out of my mind, and it feels like a betrayal to keep it from Max. But then again, Ialsofeel like I’d be betraying Van by spilling his secret. It took him a lot of courage to work up to it, and I don’t want him to feel like the first thing I did was turn around and blab about it.
But my stomach churns as I twirl my fork around in the spaghetti, and then I can’t hold it in any longer.
“Van told me something today,” I blurt out.
Max’s sets his fork down carefully. “What did he say?”
“He…told me he’s in love with me.”
Max’s brow creases, and for a moment, he looks confused. Too late, I realize he must have expected Van’s confession as the mole.
“Oh,” he says, trying and failing to keep his face as blank as usual.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I sigh, setting down my fork as well.
“And do you…have feelings for Van?” Max asks stiffly.
Wait a minute. Is Max—is hejealous?
I shake my head after a long, surprised moment, vehement in my denial. “Hell, no. Van’s my friend, my brother—but that’s it.”
Max’s shoulders relax a tiny bit. “Oh,” he says again. “So how did you handle it?”
“My straight best friend telling me he was in love with me? Uh, I wassurprised. So I could’ve handled it better. But like I said, I don’t feel the same way. I tried to let him down easy, but…” I grimace. “You don’t know Van all that well, but I’m pretty sure you can figure out how he reacted.”
A wave of relief washes over Max’s face, though he tries to hide it with a casual comment. “Well, he picked a hell of a time to confess his feelings.”
There’s something almost exciting about seeing a man as self-contained as Max struggle with jealousy, and I find myself enjoying the sight more than I should. “Like I said, there’s nothing romantic between Van and me. We’re friends. He stormed off after I turned him down, bitching about you ruining his life…” I break off. “Look, I shouldn’t have told you that. Forget it.”
Max watches me closely. “But why would Van think I ruined his life?”
“I guess because,” I say, leaning back and studying Max’s handsome face, “he knows how I feel about you. And he doesn’t like it.”
Max’s shocked face might be enough to make me laugh after the day I’ve had, if I wasn’t so exhausted. “Let’s not talk about Van anymore. It’s been a long day.”
