Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) COMPLETE, 07/23/17

Fics using the characters from Roswell, but where the plot does not have anything to do with aliens, nor are any of the characters "not of this Earth."

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April
Roswell Fanatic
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Joined: Tue Sep 28, 2004 9:32 am
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Part 14

Post by April »

Carolyn:
It appears that Max is really coming around with Dylan.
Has he had any contact with his daughter??
Max has definitely come around with Dylan. As for any contact with Scarlet . . . you'll pretty much get the answer to that in this part.
I can only imagine how Maria feels being the youngest mother in the school. People do tend to judge not matter what.
Yes, it's unfortunate, but people do judge. And Maria's always had so many insecurities that stem from her young motherhood.


Sara:
So as I am saraMMlover I usually rally around the michael and maria....however, I am completely uninterested in maria at this point. I don't hate her, I just think she is bad for Michael. I am in love with your Sarah character and think she pushes MIchael to be better and it always seems like he wants to be better for her until you put Maria back in the picture. I am glad Maria and Max BOTH stood up for Michael but it still feels like Michael is regressing once more.....not good.
I get that. Completely. It's really kind of sad, too, because Michael loves Maria; Maria loves Michael. That will never change. But Maria always feared that she would hold Michael back rather than push him forward. She always worried she'd end up influencing his life in a negative way rather than a positive one. And right now, even though that's not her intention at all . . . that is what's happening. He's starting to screw up again, and that's really hard to see after he's been doing so well for so long. With Sarah. :(


Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!








Part 14








It was barely 10:00 that night, and already, Michael found himself exhausted, falling asleep on the couch. He leaned back on the middle cushion, his right arm dangling halfway over his face and off the back. Even though the bed was only steps away, he seriously felt like he could fall asleep right there.

Sarah sat down next to him, snuggling up to his side, and he lowered his arm to put it around her. She wasn’t wearing any sexy lingerie tonight, just white drawstring shorts and a pink tank top she commonly wore to bed. Her hair was damp and smelled like that floral shampoo she used.

“I’m tired,” he told her.

“I never would’ve guessed,” she joked.

He laughed lightly, keeping his eyes closed as sleep kept tugging at him. Chances were, she’d fall asleep right along with him. They woke up on this couch together frequently in the middle of the night. When he was the only one to wake up, he’d carry her to the bed and sleep the rest of the night with her there.

“So that’s good news about your practicum,” she said quietly.

That one word made his eyes open. “Yeah, it is,” he agreed. When he’d gotten home, he’d tried to downplay the whole thing by telling her that Vanessa had simply changed her mind and decided to give him another chance. But she’d been mentioning it off and on all night.

Sarah cuddled with him in comfortable silence for a few seconds, but then, as if something was bothering her, she moved back a bit and sat up straighter. Looking closely at him, she softly asked, “Michael, are you okay?”

Just the fact that she even asked that made him feel guilty. “Yeah,” he answered plainly. “Why?”

“Because . . .” She smiled shakily. “Lately, you just haven’t seemed like yourself. You’re punching people in the face and getting hit by cars. I’m kinda worried about you.”

Of course you are, he thought. Sarah was the kind of girl to think about others more than she thought about herself. It was natural for her to sense that something was off and be concerned about it.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, and really, it was true. Now that he had his practicum back, he had this whole Maria/Dylan/Max situation under control. His life was still his life, and everything was fine.

“I know it’s been hard,” she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “trying to keep on like normal when there’s this crazy stuff going on with your sister.”

Tina. God, he felt like a fucking jerk for pushing that to the back of his mind lately. But he couldn’t deal with the stress of that situation while he was trying to handle everything else. “I just need to focus,” he said, parroting what adults had told him all throughout high school.

“Yeah,” she agreed, “on school and your job and stuff.”

She wasn’t selfish enough to include herself in that, so he did it for her. “And you.” He waited until he saw a small but happy smile, and then he leaned in and gave her a kiss. She wasn’t the kind of girlfriend who craved or demanded attention, but she sure as hell deserved more attention than he’d given her as of late.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sweet, delicious smell of pastries wafted into Isabel’s nose from the moment she entered Liz’s bakery. How was it possible to work there day in and day out without getting fat? Everything smelled so damn good.

“Hey, Liz,” she greeted uber-cheerfully, hoping to put herself in a good mood today. Jesse had been grumpy this morning, and she was determined not to let it rub off on her.

Liz was carefully and diligently placing multi-colored sprinkles on top of a white-frosted doughnut, but she did glance up from that task briefly. “Isabel,” she said with noticeable less cheerfulness. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah.” Isabel smoothed her hand over the glass countertop and looked around, not recognizing much of anything. There were a bunch of old clocks and paintings on the brick walls that she couldn’t recall seeing before, and there were more tables than she remembered, too.

“You know, I’m not officially open yet,” Liz commented, but Isabel barely even heard her.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” she raved. Overall, the vibe was nice. It sort of looked more like a coffee shop than a pastry shop, which was nice. It felt relaxing and chill. “It looks different than I remember it.”

“I don’t know why. I haven’t really redecorated.” Liz finished up with the sprinkles of the last donut and then slid a whole tray of them onto an empty shelf beneath the counter.

“Hmm. I guess I haven’t been here for a while,” Isabel acknowledged. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know . . .” Liz shrugged. “Work, motherhood. I’m taking a business class now, too.”

“Huh.” Isabel had to admit . . . she was surprised. Not because Liz wasn’t driven or capable, but just because . . . well, she’d survived young single motherhood, come out of it relatively unscathed.

“What about you?” Liz asked.

“Oh, same old stuff, you know? Classes, boyfriend . . . porn.”

Liz looked down, almost as if she were disappointed, and just mumbled, “Right, of course.”

“Anyway, I just thought I’d stop in.”

“Sure.” As if the porn tidbit had pushed things too far, Liz shifted into professional mode and inquired, “What can I get for you?”

Isabel smiled hopefully. “Scarlet.” It had been way too long since she’d seen or gotten to hold her niece.

“Um, I don’t actually sell her here. But maybe . . .” Liz opened up a paper sack for Isabel and let her see the delicious treat inside. “Bear claw? They’re Alex’s favorite.”

Isabel pushed aside the momentary resentment that Liz and Alex were still close enough for her to know what his favorite doughnut was and forced a smile instead. “I’ll bring it to him then,” she decided, taking the sack from Liz. “I have his class today.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” A few seconds of awkward silence settled in, and Isabel couldn’t help but ask, “So Scarlet’s not here?”

“No, she’s at daycare today,” Liz replied.

Isabel pouted. “Darn. I know it’s been a while. I just don’t want her to forget her Aunt Isabel, you know?” It was bad enough that everyone else already had. “I mean, I don’t ever get to see Dylan, so maybe with Scarlet it can be different.”

Now it was Liz’s turn to frown. “Well, don’t you get to see him more now that Max moved back?”

It was such a casual question, but it wasn’t one Isabel had been anticipating at all. “What?” she said. “What do you mean?” Last she’d heard from Max, he was still in Texas. If he’d moved back to New Mexico . . . surely he would have told her.

“Oh, um . . .” Liz’s voice got really quiet then, almost as if she didn’t want to be the one to have to tell Isabel anything. “Max came to Carlsbad at the end of the summer. With Maria and Dylan.”

Isabel’s eyes bulged in disbelief. With Maria and Dylan?

“I thought you knew,” Liz said softly.

Isabel pressed her lips tightly together and mumbled, “No, I didn’t,” averting her eyes in embarrassment. If she and Max were living in the same town and he hadn’t even bothered to make contact with her, that probably meant he wanted nothing to do with her. And that hurt her feelings.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the midst of unpacking groceries, Max heard a knock on the front door. Probably the cable guy again. They kept having problems with their satellite dish, and he kept coming out to the house to work on it, but he never actually fixed it. It was all pretty annoying at this point.

Max left the grocery sack half unpacked on the counter, though, and went to answer the door anyway; but much to his surprise, it wasn’t the cable guy standing on the other side. Far from it. Isabel stood there, looking annoyed in her own right.

“Well, well,” she said, “look who it is. My big brother, former resident of the Lone Star state, current resident of the Land of Enchantment. Who knew?” She huffed. “I sure didn’t.”

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly, figuring it was the easiest way to deflect her anger. “I meant to call you once we got settled in.”

“Which was months ago, end of July,” she stated accurately. “At least that’s what Liz told me. She also gave me your address since I was still under the assumption your address would have a TX in it.”

He sighed, sensing that she was more than a little pissed. Hoping to dissolve some of that, he stepped to the side and motioned for her to come in, which she eagerly did.

“So,” she said, looking around, “this is your house.”

“Yep.” It wasn’t anything like what they’d grown up in, but it was nice enough. All one story, just two bedrooms. Just big enough for him and his family.

“It’s nice,” she said, but that was all she said about the house. And then she was glaring at him accusatorily again. “So let me get this straight,” she said. “You keep in contact with Mom, with Liz, but not with me?” She made a face. “What gives, Max?”

“Nothing. It’s just . . .” He didn’t know how to phrase it so it wouldn’t piss her off even more, but he had plenty of valid reasons for keeping her at a distance these past two years. “Your lifestyle, everything you do . . . it doesn’t mesh with my lifestyle anymore. I can’t be around any negative influences.” He’d worked too hard to turn his life around to let it be derailed by anyone, including her.

“And you think I’m a negative influence?” She laughed at that. “Seriously? I’m not the one here who’s a drug addict.”

“Neither am I,” he declared proudly. “Not anymore.”

“Okay, and good for you,” she said. “You turned your life around. But I’m not a complete train wreck. I’m not gonna mess everything up for you.”

“I know, but still . . .” He headed back into the kitchen, keeping his back to her when he said, “I’ve got Dylan to think about now.”

She followed him, not letting up. “Oh, so that’s who you don’t want me to be around. Because you think I’m a big whore or something.”

“Isabel . . .” He spun back around, growing frustrated with her. Sure, she was his sister, and he loved her because of that fact. But they’d spent the better part of their lives separated from one another, and that was probably for the best. He had his issues, and she had her own, but he was working to overcome his while she was basking in hers. He wasn’t going to have Dylan anywhere near that.

“Forget it,” she dismissed. “I don’t wanna fight. I’m glad you’re in Carlsbad, Max. I’ve missed you.” Even though it was totally out of place given how the conversation between them had started, she smiled and got close enough to him to hug him. He hugged her back unsurely, relieved when she took a couple steps back and let him go.

“So . . .” she said. “Are you taking classes?”

“No, just working.”

“As a lawyer?”

He gave her a look. Did it look like he was working as a lawyer? A lawyer would have a nicer house, nicer clothes, nicer everything. “No, as a construction worker. And a painter,” he replied.

Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Like an artist?”

“No, like a . . . house-painter.” Nothing exciting or glamorous about it, especially because he painted fences once in a while, too. But for whatever reason, Maria seemed to hate his construction job more than his painting one.

“Oh.” Isabel looked down at his jeans, probably starting to notice the paint stains there now. “Not exactly the career path I would’ve pictured for you.”

“Yeah, well . . . I could say the same.” He had to be careful about what he searched for online these days, because he didn’t want to accidentally stumble across one of her ‘films.’

“I’m still gonna be a writer,” Isabel insisted. “I’m taking classes.”

“Good for you.” He’d believe it only when he saw it, though. At this point, Isabel was pretty well entrenched in the pornography industry. No one would be able to take her seriously as a writer after this.

“Yeah, things are going pretty well,” she bragged. “Jesse and I are still together, and we share a pretty nice house with our friends.”

“Yeah? What about Mom?” he asked. “You ever talk to her?”

A flash of sadness zoomed onto Isabel’s face. “No,” she said. “She doesn’t . . . we don’t talk anymore. And she’s basically gotten our entire family to shun me. She just can’t get over . . . everything I’m doing.”

Any reason why she should? he wanted to ask, but he held back.

“Some people just can’t forgive and forget,” she said, obviously trying to conceal just how bothered she was by it. “But from what I hear . . . Maria DeLuca sure can.”

Max sighed and rolled his eyes. Just how much about his life had Liz spilled to her?

Isabel grinned leaning back against the counter. “How’d you do it, Max? How’d you get back in her good graces?”

He shrugged. “Lots of hard work.”

“Right. Rehab.”

It bothered him that she made it sound so simple, because it wasn’t simple. Rehab had only been the start of it. “Once I got my life back on track, I met up with her in Houston, told her I wanted to be a part of Dylan’s life.”

“And so she just welcomed you back into her life with open . . .” Isabel looked down into the grocery sack and raised an eyebrow as she took out the box of condoms he’d purchased today. “Legs?”

He reached out and seized that box from her. It was none of her business.

“Wow,” she said, laughing. “I can’t believe you’re with her again.”

“Listen, I know she might not be your favorite person . . .”

“Understatement.”

“But she’s Dylan’s mom. And things are going well between us. I get to be with her and be a father to Dylan, and I still get to be a father to Scarlet, especially now that I live here. So don’t try to screw it up.”

“Max!” she scolded. “What makes you think I wanna screw anything up for you? You’re my brother.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the same brother I was two years ago.”

“No,” she agreed. “You seem way more . . . judgmental. And uptight.”

“Because I have to be,” he explained. “I can’t slip up; I can’t ever stop trying. Because I’m not gonna be the guy I used to be, Isabel. I refuse.” He didn’t even like remembering that guy, remembering what he’d done. It felt like a different life. Like a nightmare.

“Funny,” Isabel said, looking wistful when she revealed, “sometimes I wish I could be the girl I used to be.”

It was a moment of honesty, one that he appreciated. But just like that, it was gone, and she was turning the conversation back onto him and away from herself.

“So,” she said, “I assume you didn’t know Michael Guerin was a college student in this town when you moved here.”

“Nope,” he admitted, reaching past her to put the condoms back in the paper sack, “but I found out soon enough. Turns out he’s doing a guidance practicum at Dylan’s school.”

“What?” She laughed. “Oh my god, small world.”

“Yeah. He ran into me there, and then his fist ran into my face.”

“Priceless.”

“But it’s fine now.” If it was just a practicum, it would be over in a few months anyway. No big deal.

“Are you sure?” she challenged. “Michael and Maria reunited. All aboard the pain train.”

“No, it’s not like that,” he insisted. “They haven’t even seen each other.” And for that much, he had to admit, he was relieved.

“Well, I hope you’re right,” she said. “Let’s not forget, the last time they got together, they ruined everybody’s lives in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, feeling the need to jump to Maria’s defense and end Isabel’s pity party before it started. “The only life that’s ruined is yours, Isabel,” he said, not caring how harsh it sounded. It was true. “Everyone else is doin’ just fine.”

The smirk that had resided on her face faded rapidly, replaced by that persistent look of sadness. But he didn’t mind if he’d just made her feel bad. In fact, he was glad he had. Because seeing some genuine emotions out of his sister was a lot better than only seeing the fake ones.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Music by decade seemed to be the trend in Music Appreciation class. Unfortunately for Michael, instead of entering the class when it was time to appreciate something awesome like the sixties or the nineties, he entered the class during the unit focused on the twenties. Lots of jazz, which meant lots of crap he didn’t give two shits about. It was kind of cool, though, to watch old Charleston videos and see the hot flapper girls.

In the end, though, none of it could hold his interest. There he was in the back of the classroom, upholding his promise to Maria by not sitting next to her. She, meanwhile, had returned to the front row, putting in a much better effort at being attentive than he was. He watched her gradually become more and more distracted, though, and eventually, she was no longer paying attention, either. He saw that she was doodling musical notes and stars in her notebook, and that made him think back to when he used to sit in his high school classes and draw pictures of her to pass the time.

Once class was over, she made a hasty exit, so he gathered up his stuff quickly so he could follow her. He practically had to run down the hall, but he managed to catch up with her on the steps leading out of the building. “Maria!”

She whirled around, sending her blonde hair flying back over her shoulder. Managing a small smile, she said, “Thanks for not sitting by me today.”

“Yeah, sure.” He walked down the steps with her, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders, subconsciously glancing around to make sure he didn’t see anyone he knew. Not that it really mattered a whole lot; this wasn’t like high school where someone would see the two of them together and post the picture on Twitter to spread the gossip like wildfire. He knew people, but not that many people. No one here cared what he was up to.

“So were you as surprised as I was about what Max did?” he asked, following her, even though she was headed the opposite direction of where he needed to go now that this class was done.

Eyebrows furrowed, she asked, “What do you mean?”

It dawned on him in that instant that she had no idea what he was talking about, and he had to admit . . . he sort of loved that. Maybe this new and reformed Max wasn’t quite so forthcoming after all. “You know, he talked to Vanessa Whitaker, convinced her to let me keep doing my practicum at Pound.”

Maria completely stopped walking and looked up at him incredulously. “What?

“Yeah.” He had to bite back a grin. Maybe it was wrong of him to hope that this started a fight between them, but . . . what the hell? He hoped.

“Uh, no offense,” she said, “but why would he do that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was surprised, too. When I asked him--”

“Wait,” she cut in abruptly, “you talked to him about this?”

“Yeah, yesterday. He said he owed me for . . . you know.” He didn’t like to say it out loud.

“Dylan?” she surmised.

“Yeah.”

She sighed heavily, looking confused and flustered. “Sorry,” she apologized, “I don’t mean to . . .” She paused for a moment. “It’s not that I’m not glad for you. It’s just . . .”

“Weird,” he filled in. “I know.” He was still trying to comprehend the weirdness of . . . all of this.

“I have to go,” she decided suddenly. Without so much as a goodbye stepped past him and started walking away at a brisk pace. Probably wants to call Max, he thought bitterly.

“Hey!” he called, not ready to let her leave just yet.

She reluctantly stopped and turned back around again, an impatient look on her face.

He just stared at her for a few long seconds, not sure what he intended to say. So he settled for just blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “I have a girlfriend,” he informed her bluntly. “Two years now.” That didn’t get any response out of her, so he tried to rub a little salt in the wound. “I’m in love with her, so . . .” For some reason, it felt really important for her to know that.

But even all that garnered was a slight raise of her eyebrows, like she was surprised but not devastated. No words. No tears. Nothing else. She just kept looking at him for a few seconds, and then she lowered her head, tucked her hair behind her ear, turned back around, and continued on her way.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and let himself lose track of her in the crowd of students making their way to and from class all around him, trying not to feel too disappointed that his big reveal hadn’t gotten a stronger reaction.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oh god, this day . . . Maria thought in agitation as she walked in the front door of her house. It couldn’t get over with fast enough. Little things were just setting her off. She’d had an interview around noon and had probably totally bombed it, because her bad attitude had to have been obvious.

Max had the day off, and he didn’t appear to have spent it very productively. There were a lot of unwashed dishes in the sink, and instead of doing them, he was sitting on the couch with his computer on his lap, watching a basketball montage on Youtube.

“Hey,” he said, immediately closing the computer and setting it aside when he saw her.

“Hey,” she returned, dropping her purse to the ground. She slipped off her shoes and raked her hands through her hair, groaning. It hadn’t been a particularly bad day, she supposed. Just enough to not be a good one.

Max got up off the couch and crossed over into the kitchen, headed straight for the sink. “So you’ll never guess who stopped by today,” he said, putting the stopper in before he turned on the water.

“Who?” If Michael’s name passed over his lips, she was going to freak out. The thought of them having one conversation, let alone two, was just too weird.

“Isabel.”

Her eyes bulged, because that wasn’t much better. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

Struggling to formulate any coherent thoughts, she could only manage to sputter out, “Why?”

Max shrugged and squirted some blue dish soap into the rising water. “Guess she just wanted to say hi.”

“Wait.” Maria rubbed her forehead, trying to make sense of it. “I thought she moved back to Roswell after she dropped out of Princeton.””

“She did.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Until she enrolled in college here last semester.”

“Oh my god,” she growled, hating the thought of it. Isabel Evans wasn’t exactly her biggest fan. Their relationship had always been hostile, so having some distance in between them had been nice. “First Michael, now Isabel. You know, I’m starting to feel like I never even left Roswell. I mean, what was the point of any of it if we were all just gonna end up here?” she ranted.

“I don’t know,” Max mumbled, watching the sink fill up. When the water was high enough, he shut it off, then looked back at her, asking, “You okay?”

“No,” she admitted, hating how whiny she sounded, “I’m not okay. I don’t get it, Max. I mean, Isabel stops by and you pretty much have to talk to her. Fine, whatever. But why would you make it your mission to make sure Michael keeps his practicum?”

“You found out about that, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Did Whitaker tell you?”

Oh, crap. She realized she’d said too much, because she couldn’t exactly tell him that Michael had told her himself. “Yes,” she said, wondering if it was technically a lie. Because she’d stopped by the school after lunch to talk to Vanessa about it, just to verify that Michael was telling her the truth. And Vanessa had confirmed everything.

“I just figured I should . . . do him a favor,” Max explained with a shrug. “God knows he did a pretty damn big one for me.”

She sighed, recognizing the familiar signs of shame in his eyes, his posture, all over his face. “Dylan,” she said softly.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t even look at her. He never could when they talked about that night.

“Look, Max . . .” She took a few steps toward him, grabbing the dishtowel off the oven handle so she could help him dry that mountain of dishes once he started washing. “I know your intentions with this were good, but I don’t want you to feel like you were obligated. I mean, don’t you think things are already weird enough without confusing our son?”

Max made a face. “What’s there to be confused about? Michael’s just working at his school. He’s not gonna be around him all the time again.”

“I know. It’s just . . .” She hesitated for a few seconds, trying to oh-so-delicately phrase both her concerns and her assurances. “I want you to be comfortable, you know? I want you to know that nothing’s gonna change.”

“I know that,” he said confidently. “The past is the past. It doesn’t have to be the present. Or the future. That’s why I got him his practicum back. Because it was the right thing to do, and I’m at a place in my life where I finally know something about doing the right thing.” Slowly, the slightest of grins found its way to his face. “Remember?”

Yeah. She remembered.

****

Maria was on edge. Completely and totally on edge. She had never pictured herself going out to eat with Max Evans ever again. They had gone out maybe once or twice back when they’d dated, mostly to places like Subway or Burger Hut. Never a nice restaurant like this, though.

Though she hadn’t allowed him to drive her for fear that he would think it was a date, she had agreed to meet him at Antica Osteria, an Italian restaurant she’d wanted to try ever since arriving in Houston. Of course he had picked an Italian place. It was her favorite kind of food. The only thing that surprised her was that he actually knew that.

The more she looked around, the more uneasy she felt. The atmosphere was a little too cozy and romantic. Their table was in a dimly lit lodge-style room with a roaring fireplace on one wall. Max had ordered some white wine, which he hadn’t taken a sip of, and their fettucine alfredo and ravioli were on their way. Her plan was to eat fast and get out of there and not be swayed by anything he had to say.

“I don’t know if it was the right thing for me to come here,” she confessed, watching a sweet elderly couple at the nearest table caressing each other’s hands atop the table. The clientele here definitely skewed a little older, but they were very sweet.

“It was,” Max assured her.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Since when do you know anything about what’s right?”

“Since rehab.”

“Hmm.” She reached to the middle of the table and took a warm breadstick out of the basket, breaking it in half. “And that just fixed all your problems?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it gave me a good place to start.”

For his sake . . . she hoped that was true.

Setting one half of the breadstick down on her appetizer plate, she took a bite of the other, savoring the taste. This wasn’t the most expensive restaurant in Houston by any means, but Max had promised her that the food was good. Food like moms make, he claimed, except her mom had usually made lasagna out of a box.

“So how long have you been clean?” she inquired, already prepared to doubt his answer.

He took a sip of water and replied, “Ever since that night.”

That night?”

“You know the one,” he mumbled.

That was actually a pretty long time . . . if he was telling the truth. Almost a year. “You almost got Dylan killed that night,” she reminded him. “You
and Michael.”

“It was more my fault than it was his.”

Too on edge to be hungry, she put the rest of the breadstick down on her plate, grunting exasperatedly. “God, do you have, like, a script you’re reading off? Because you’re saying all the right things, but do you really expect me to believe any of it?”

He shook his head, seeming completely unoffended and not at all caught off-guard by her skepticism. “No. But I’m hoping you will after you get to know me again.”

“I don’t wanna get to know you again,” she growled determinedly.

“Then why’d you come out with me tonight?” he challenged.

“I figured it was the easiest way to get you off my back. We wine, we dine, we definitely
don’t sixty-nine; and then when it’s all said and done, we never have to see each other again.”

He shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”


Of course it’s what I want, she thought, but for some reason, she didn’t say it. “What do you want, Max?” she demanded. “Are you just trying to absolve your guilt, make yourself feel better?”

“No, I just wanna get to know Dylan.”

Immediately, she started laughing, but he didn’t even crack a smile. “Oh my god, you’re serious?” she spat incredulously. “Are you
delusional? You haven’t exactly been Father of the Year.”

“So give me the chance,” he urged. And it was oddly hilarious, because he sounded totally serious.

“No,” she decided immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“I couldn’t help but notice Dylan doesn’t exactly have a father figure anymore.”


Oh, of course, she thought, trying to disguise her reaction to that. Of course he brings up Michael. “That doesn’t mean you’re gonna step in to fill the void,” she told him, not backing down. “I don’t care how much you say you’ve changed.”

“Maria . . .”

“That doesn’t erase the past.”

“Maria, please.”

“I can’t just forget everything that happened. And how do I know you’re not lying anyway?”

Maria.” He said her name with so much force, so much directness, that it got her to shut up. And then he said something she swore she’d never heard from him before: “I’m sorry.”

She knew she must have looked completely confused. It was just that apologizing was so unlike him.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he went on. “For that night, for everything I did and said when I was in Roswell . . .” He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded solemnly. “For leaving you and Dylan to fend for yourselves all those years ago. It was wrong of me. It was the wrong thing to do. And I’m sorry.”

Was he, though? Or was he just saying it? She wasn’t sure. But as much as she hated to admit it . . . he actually did seem genuine. His words weren’t coated in that cocky bravado she’d grown so accustomed to hearing from him.

“You weren’t in any state to be a dad back then,” she told him, not to try to make him feel better, but just because . . . it was true. In the long run, she and Dylan had probably been better off without him.

“I am now,” he claimed.

She rolled her eyes, not sure if that was possible. Sure, rehab worked wonders sometimes, but . . . Max had
really gone off the deep end in Roswell. Was it even possible to resurrect yourself from that? “I don’t even like you, Max,” she said bluntly. “How do you expect me to trust you?”

“I don’t expect that. And I don’t even think you should, not until you get to know me again,” he said. “But once you do, I promise I won’t disappoint you. It’s too important for me to do things right this time. Who knows? You might even end up liking this new me.”

She grunted. “You really think you’ve changed
that much?”

“I have.” As the waiter approached their table with their food, he smirked and added, “Trust me.”


****

Having gotten so lost in her own thoughts, Maria didn’t even realize that Max’s arms were around her waist until he was pulling her closer. “Everything’s gonna be fine,” he assured her. “This place isn’t Roswell.”

“Well, it’s starting to feel very Roswellian,” she said, placing her hands on his chest. “Max . . .” She scrunched up his t-shirt and looked at the paint flecks that were now just a part of the shirt. Didn’t matter how many times they put his clothes through the wash; sometimes they just wouldn’t come out. “This is Michael Guerin,” she said, tilting her head back a bit to look at him. “This is Michael Guerin at your son’s school. Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Inside, she was really glad that Michael still had a shot there; it made her feel less guilty about her ignorance of what had obviously been a precarious situation right from the start. But alleviating that guilt wasn’t worth adding stress to Max’s mind.

“I’m fine,” he promised calmly. “Are you okay with it?”

“Yeah . . .” She was mostly just confused with it. All of it. “I just don’t want you to worry--”

“I’m not worried,” he cut in. “I trust you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, rubbed her back a bit, and then let go of her and turned to face the sink to get those dishes washed. She stood back and watched him for a few seconds before she moved in to help.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
keepsmiling7
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 14, 03/19/16

Post by keepsmiling7 »

Life is taking some strange turns.....
I was glad to see Isabel still wanted to see her niece Scarlet.
And wow, Max didn't want to be around Isabel because she was a negative influence.
Guess rehab is working with Max so far.......
And he does see Scarlet too.
So much going on, but I wonder how long these changes will last??
thanks,
Carolyn
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 14, 03/19/16

Post by sarammlover »

So Maria is lying to Max. Michael is lying to Sarah. And Isabel is lying to herself. I wish all the lying would stop. The only person (shockingly) who is being honest is Max....how strange is that? I truly hope he has been changed. Wait....so liz knows Max is in town. Has he seen Scarlet? Whoa. I just thought of that.....ooooh I can't wait for more!
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April
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Part 15

Post by April »

Carolyn:
I was glad to see Isabel still wanted to see her niece Scarlet.
She's so lonely, and she feels so isolated from her family. It's kind of sad. But then again, she's brought it on herself.
And wow, Max didn't want to be around Isabel because she was a negative influence.
Guess rehab is working with Max so far.......
Yeah, it's definitely not an act. The guy has changed.


Sara:
So Maria is lying to Max. Michael is lying to Sarah. And Isabel is lying to herself. I wish all the lying would stop. The only person (shockingly) who is being honest is Max....how strange is that?
Very strange indeed! It's a web of lies right now, but obviously they can't keep lying forever.
Wait....so liz knows Max is in town. Has he seen Scarlet?
Oh, yes! Part of Max's effort to change involves him being a good father to Scarlet right from the start, being there for her in the ways that he was never there for Dylan.


Thanks for reading!








Part 15








Kyle looked like he was miserable, but that was to be expected. The very guy who used to love working out now dreaded it, viewed it as a chore. But he responded to Sarah better than he did to the rest of them. She was that perfect mix of gentle and firm when it came to getting him active, and it was obvious she’d spent two years working at a rehabilitation facility.

Michael and Tess sat on the side of the seven-lane pool at the rec center, both of them with their feet in the water, observing while Sarah kept coaxing Kyle to swim forward. She had a method: She started out close, then took one normal-sized step back after Kyle swam towards her with the help of a flotation device. She was about six feet away from him now, which didn’t sound like much, but it was progress.

“Okay,” she was saying, “you can do it. Keep going. You’re doing great.”

“I suck,” Kyle mumbled.

“Don’t say that. Come on, you got this.”

Rolling his eyes, Kyle put his arms out and pushed forward in the water with what little strength his body could muster. In the water, it was easier for him to move his legs. Not much, but enough to move him forward slowly.

“Good,” she said again.

Leaning over, Tess said to Michael, “Lesbihonest, if I was gay, I’d totally date your girlfriend.”

Michael laughed and agreed, “Yeah, she’s pretty great.” He shook his wet hair off, purposefully all over Tess, and she acted annoyed and tried to shove him in, but he was too heavy for her.

“I’m glad she knows what to do with him, ‘cause I’m at a loss,” she said.

“Yeah, when Sarah tells you to do something, you pretty much just do it,” he said, getting a kick out of watching her splash Kyle, just to get a smile to creep out of him. “She says to do the laundry, you do it. She tells you to turn the channel, you don’t even hesitate. She tells you to go out and buy some ass-less chaps—forget I said that last part.”

“Oh, whatever!” Tess yelped. “You’d never wear those.”

“No. But I have been tryin’ to convince her to.” He was a butt guy, after all. Favorite body part on a woman.

“Well, keep workin’ on her,” Tess urged. “We’ve been doing some major toning in yoga, so I think you’d be pleased.”

“I’m sure I would be.” Hell, even without yoga, he was fucking satisfied.

Tess cleared her throat, swirling her feet around in the water. “Hey, speaking of yoga . . . Sarah and I had quite the interesting conversation afterwards today.”

“Oh, no. What?”

“Well, you know, she just made it sound like . . .” Tess shrugged timidly. “Like maybe you haven’t really been like yourself lately?”

He sighed, hating that it was so obvious.

“Something about you punching a guy?” Tess made a face. “What’s up with that?”

“I did,” he admitted. “At the elementary school. Almost lost my practicum because of it.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah, I . . .” He swallowed his bitterness that Max Evans of all people had been the one to rectify his mistake for him. “I got it back.”

“Wow, punching a guy,” Tess said in astonishment. “Vintage Michael.”

“I know.” He wasn’t exactly proud of it, and he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“Why’d you hit him?” she asked.

Because of Dylan, he thought. Because it was Max, and he was with Dylan. That was all he had to say, and Tess would understand why it set him off. Kyle would understand. But Sarah might not understand, and that was why he couldn’t say anything. “No reason,” he lied. He just had to keep lying.

“No reason?” She didn’t seem to believe him.

Oh, crap. He couldn’t keep having this conversation. Tess wasn’t the ditz he used to perceive her as; she was actually pretty damn perceptive these days. He didn’t want to let onto anything, so he diverted her focus instead. “Look,” he said, pointing to Kyle as he kicked through the water a good ten feet to Sarah.

“Ooh, good job, Kyle!” Tess exclaimed, clapping her hands. He paid her no attention, but suddenly, thankfully, all her attention was on him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In any other class, Michael was not a back of the class guy. Not anymore. He liked to sit in a seat where a professor would see him if he raised his hand in the air. But Music Appreciation was different, because he was probably the least knowledgeable person in the room. So he sat in the back, partially due to that fact, and partially because he knew that was where Maria wanted him to sit. For now, at least.

It was bound to change, though. She’d be back there with him soon enough.

He sat back and watched her come in that day, looking a bit frazzled, like maybe it’d been a hectic morning or something. She purposefully avoided any and all eye contact with him and sat down in her usual seat, but instead of getting a pen or a piece of paper or anything out, she just sat there, looking like she was about to stand back up any second.

He smirked, confident that her own curiosity was about to get the best of her. She couldn’t keep sitting up there, no matter how strong her willpower had gotten. There were things she wanted to know, and she was going to come ask him.

She managed to stay up there for about a minute at the most, and then she was picking up her purse and trying to discreetly walk towards the back of the classroom. He got an inward chuckle out of that.

Sliding into the empty seat beside him, she quietly asked, “So what’s her name?”

Wow, straight to the point, he thought, deciding to play dumb a little. “Who?”

“Your girlfriend,” she elaborated. “You said you’ve been dating her for two years. I assume you know her name by now.”

He wanted to believe she sounded just the slightest bit jealous, but . . . ah, maybe he was reading too much into it. “Sarah,” he responded.

“Sarah,” she echoed. “Does she go to school here?”

“Yep.”

“Hmm. How’d you guys meet?”

“Tess set us up.” So many questions . . .

“And you’ve been together two years now,” she recapped. “Wow. That’s a really long time.”

It was. A lot had changed in that time. He had changed.

“That’s great, though, Michael,” she said. “I’m . . . I’m really happy for you.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “Really?” Was it too much to ask that she might be just a little envious?

“Yeah,” she insisted. “It’s good that you were able to meet someone and . . . move on.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s really great.” If she wanted him to, he could launch into a whole spiel about all her amazing qualities. But what was the point of that if it wouldn’t even make her flinch?

“Good,” she said. “That’s . . . that’s really good.” She smiled, an unfaltering kind of smile. Not an uncertain kind. “So what else is different now?”

That one he was reluctant to answer, because it was like opening up a can of worms. “Lots of stuff,” he said vaguely.

“Like what?”

“You really wanna know?”

She turned a bit in her seat, facing ever more slightly towards him now. “Yeah.”

He sighed, fairly certain she’d change her mind once he really got into the nitty-gritty. She was curious right now, but once he told her enough, she’d regret ever asking. “Well, I assume you heard about Kyle,” he started in.

“Yeah.” She grimaced. “It was all over the news when it happened. I wanted to call, but . . .” She trailed off.

But you didn’t, he thought bitterly. Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore.

“How’s he doing now?” she asked.

Michael shrugged. “He’s still rehabbing, trying to learn how to walk again. He and Tess are still engaged, but I don’t think they’ll be gettin’ married anytime soon.” Now there was something he never would have said two years ago.

“Are they back in Roswell?”

“No, they’re here.” What else could he tell her about someone she cared about but hadn’t seen in years? “Let’s see . . . my mom.”

Her eyes lit up a bit.

“She manages a bookstore now instead of working at the library. She’s still in Roswell, though.” As an afterthought, just to get her reminiscing, he added, “Same old house.”

Maria sighed. “I miss her.”

Did you miss me? he wanted to ask. But he didn’t.

“What else?” she prompted.

The other stuff . . . wasn’t what she’d be expecting. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to get into it, but the professor hadn’t arrived yet, and class wasn’t technically in session. So why not? If he didn’t tell her now, she might dart off to another town without looking back, and then he’d never get the chance. “My dad’s dead,” he blurted unaffectedly.

Her whole body stilled in horror. “What?”

“Yeah, towards the start of my freshman year.” He stared down at his lap, at nothing in particular, and told her, “He drank too much.” Biting out a laugh, he grumbled, “Imagine that.”

“Oh my god,” she whispered.

“He passed out, threw up, choked on it while he laid there.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “And now he’s gone.”

“Oh my god, Michael,” she repeated.

“Yeah, so . . . there’s that.” It didn’t matter if he didn’t dwell on it the way most sons would have. It was a life-changing thing, and she hadn’t been there for it.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I had no idea.”

“It’s fine,” he said flippantly. “I mean, it’s not fine, but . . . I don’t miss him.”

“I’m sure Tina does, though.”

His eyebrows shot up momentarily, the second she mentioned his sister’s name. “She’s kinda . . . preoccupied.”

“Not with Hannah Crown, I hope.” Maria made a face of disgust and rolled her eyes.

“No, she got over that.”

“Good. So how is she?”

Oh, loaded fucking question. “She’s . . . pretty grown up.” Maybe he could just dance around the real answer enough.

“God, she’s, like, in junior high now, isn’t she?”

“Eighth grade.” Too young.

“Wow, I bet she’s changed a lot.”

“You could say that.” She’d probably changed just as much as he had, just not in the right ways.

He didn’t want to say more, but with Maria sitting there next to him, looking at him expectantly, he knew he would. Because she cared about Tina and had thought of her as family once. She deserved to know.

“She’s pregnant,” he informed her.

That expectant look all over Maria’s face quickly morphed into a terrified one. For a few seconds, she didn’t say anything, and when she finally did, all she could manage was a single astonished, “What?”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t happy about it, either.

“Are you—are you serious?” she sputtered.

He wished he wasn’t. “I found out a couple weeks ago.”

“She’s . . .” Maria inhaled shakily, sat there in stunned silence for a bit, and then exhaled just as nervously. “But she’s . . .”

Still a kid herself, he filled in mentally. Sound familiar? “So yeah, she’s probably changed the most out of everyone,” he recapped mundanely. “That’s about it.” There was a lot more detail he could have gone into, about everyone, but there was no time. The professor had finally shown up, and everyone was starting to get quiet. But still . . . there were things he wanted to know, too. Things about her. Things about Dylan. “What about--” When he turned to look at her, though, he knew she was in no state to answer anything, to say anything. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. In fact, she was purposefully looking away, tilting her head back as if to keep the tears inside.

He stayed quiet, figuring that she was either now blaming herself for influencing Tina or flashing back to her own young pregnancy. Either way, whatever emotions she was feeling in that moment couldn’t have been pleasant.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A hundred channels and nothing to watch. Dissatisfied with his options, Michael settled on Sports Center, the good old standby, even though he knew Sarah got so bored with it. “So is it Victor’s birthday this weekend?” he asked her.

“Actually, it’s Monday,” she responded from the kitchen. She’d been laboring over that stove from the moment she got home from work. He didn’t know what concoction she was whipping up, but whatever it was called for a lot of different ingredients and smelled good. “But we’re celebrating this weekend,” she added. “My parents are throwing him a little party.”

“Is anyone his age actually gonna be at this party?”

“Michael!” she yelped.

“What? He said he has no friends.”

“No, actually he has a few friends now,” she informed him. “He told some kids in his science class some of the jokes you told him, and now people are starting to get to know him better and like him more.”

“Good.” That had been the goal. “See, I got the magic touch when it comes to that popularity shit.” He’d never tried to be popular back in high school or middle school, or even before then. He just always had been.

“So what jokes did you tell him?” she asked as she stirred something that was bound to be delectable in a huge red pot.

“Oh, a few.” He had so much perverted humor stashed away in the dusty corners of his brain, it took him a minute to recall which ones he’d told Victor. “Like, uh . . . why do men find it difficult to make eye contact?”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I don’t know. Why?”

“Breasts don’t have eyes.” He grinned, getting a kick out of his own joke. “It’s true.”

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile.

“Oh, and . . . what’s long and hard and has cum in it?” Knowing she wasn’t going to figure it out, he answered laughingly, “A cucumber.” That was a good one right there. Priceless. It would stand the test of time.

“These are the jokes you told my little brother?” she said.

“Yeah, I mean, why not? Victor’s my homeboy. I gotta make sure his mind’s in the gutter as much as possible.”

“Your homeboy,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “So does that mean you’re going with me to his birthday party then?”

“Uh . . . do I have to?” He really wanted to find a way out of it. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Victor, but I don’t really wanna spend my Saturday at a ninth grade birthday party, you know? I was kinda thinkin’ it might be cool to just crash on this couch and relax.” He shifted further down on the middle cushion, lying back, getting comfy.

“I know, but I don’t have to work this weekend,” she said, “so I think I should go.”

“Okay, take my present with you then. It’s under the bed.”

“What is it?”

“A subscription to Playboy.”

“What?” she shrieked, looking like she was about to dump that entire pot of boiling deliciousness on him.

“Oh, come on, it’s healthy; it’s natural. It’s good for him,” he insisted. Hell, he’d started reading Playboy back when he was eight.

“I am not giving him that!” she decided adamantly.

He chuckled at her outrage. “No, I’m just kidding. I got him that weird anime poster he wanted.”

“Oh.” Immediately, she calmed down. “You’re a good guy.”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He yawned, trying to gauge whether or not he had the energy for anything other than a non-relaxing weekend. He wasn’t scheduled to work at all, either, so he’d really been looking forward to the downtime. But Sarah had gone home with him to Roswell a couple weeks ago, and that had been a suckfest; so he probably owed her this much. “No, you know, if you really want me to go with you, I will,” he offered.

“It’d make Victor happy,” she pointed out, but before she could do any more persuading or sexy pouting or anything that would make him give in instantly, there was a knock on the door. “Can you get that?” she asked as she continued to stir.

Even though he didn’t feel like moving, he got up and shuffled to the door. When he opened it, there stood . . .

“Tina?” What the hell was his sister doing there?

“Hey, can I stay here this weekend?” she asked without hesitation. “Mom’s driving me crazy.” Without waiting for an answer, she squeezed inside and said, “Thanks.”

Michael just watched in confusion as she dropped her backpack on the floor next to the TV and flopped down on the couch. Shango hopped down off the bed and scampered towards her, immediately trying to climb up onto her lap. “Hey, Shango!” she exclaimed, petting him.

I don’t get it, Michael thought. Tina had been to his apartment before, but never without his mom. This wasn’t normal at all.

“Hey, Tina,” Sarah greeted unsurely from the kitchen.

“Hey, Sarah,” she returned, inhaling the tantalizing aroma of a meal that was almost done now. “Mmm, that smells good.”

“Thanks, it’s a . . . new recipe?” Sarah shot Michael an utterly confused look, and he just shrugged, as baffled as she was.

“Teenie, what—what’re you doin’ here?” he sputtered, closing the door.

She picked up the remote and changed the channel. “I told you, Mom’s driving me crazy. I had to get outta the house.”

“How’d you get here?” Oh god, hopefully she hadn’t just hopped into a car with some guy. He’d kick her ass if she’d done that.

“I took a bus,” she replied almost . . . proudly.

“Does Mom know you’re here?”

“She does . . .” Tina took her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket and quickly typed out a text. “Now.” She smirked as she pressed send, looking way too satisfied with herself for Michael’s liking. “I told her I was going to the volleyball game after school, but . . .” She shrugged flippantly, as if it were no big deal.

“Teenie . . .” What the hell was she thinking?

“Don’t judge, okay?” she whimpered. “You don’t know how annoying she’s been lately. She’s always lecturing me.”

“Any reason why she shouldn’t?” Tina was a knocked up eighth grader. Lectures were inevitable.

“Oh, don’t start in, Michael,” she groaned. “I came here ‘cause I needed an escape for a few days.”

“Why would you--” He didn’t get to finish, though, because his phone rang. It was sitting on the kitchen table, and Sarah reached for it.

“That’s probably her,” Tina mumbled.

“It is,” Sarah said, taking the call. “Hi, Krista.” She turned the stove burner down to low heat and slipped around the divider and into the bedroom. “Yeah, she’s here,” she said, eyeing Tina. “Actually, she just showed up.” She slipped into the bathroom to take the call, and the only other thing Michael heard her say was, “We didn’t know . . .” as she closed the bathroom door.

Michael stood in the living room like a dumbass, not sure what to say to his sister. Any lecture he dished out would make him sound like a hypocrite, but he didn’t want to act like having her there was just totally okay, either.

“I didn’t interrupt, like, a sex night or anything, did I?” she asked.

God, he hated that word coming out of her mouth. “No.”

“ ‘cause I saw a couch out in the lounge. I can go sleep out there,” she offered.

Or I can drive you home, and you can sleep in your own bed.”

“No, Michael, please, don’t make me leave!” she whined. “I came all the way down here--”

“Without permission,” he cut in.

“You used to do stuff all the time without permission!” she pointed out vehemently. “Can you, like, try to remember a time when you weren’t Mom’s favorite and you guys didn’t automatically agree on everything? I can’t be there this weekend, okay? She’s driving me crazy; I’m driving her crazy. We’re driving each other crazy!”

“You’re gonna drive me crazy if you stay here,” he warned. This was not shaping up to be the relaxing, stress-free weekend he’d had in mind.

Sarah came out of the bathroom then and cleared her throat. “Michael,” she said, motioning him over.

He shook his head at Tina as she continued to channel surf and made his way out of earshot towards his girlfriend.

“Your mom’s freaking out right now,” Sarah informed him. “She wants Tina to stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s worried she’ll just take off again if you drive her home.”

He exhaled heavily, not sure if he could just let her crash here. Truth be told, he was pretty pissed at her right now. She was acting like a brat.

“At least for tonight,” Sarah said. “Your mom said they’re not getting along at all, and she thinks it’ll be good for her to spend some time with you.”

He groaned, frustrated, because he didn’t know what his mom expected him to do. He didn’t have the secret code to crack the mystery that Tina Guerin had become. He didn’t know what to say to her, what to do with her. She’d probably end up getting just as fed up with him as she was with their mom.

“What about Victor’s party?” he said.

“I’ll go,” Sarah replied. “It’ll be good for me to spend the weekend with my family, and it’ll be good for you to spend the weekend with yours.”

Would it, though? What if they just fought the whole time? That wouldn’t be good for anyone.

“She’s reaching out, Michael,” Sarah said softly. “She needs you.”

He sighed, glancing back at his sister. She was playing with Shango now, letting him climb all over her and paw at her hair.

Sarah was right. Of course he couldn’t turn her away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As evening fell, Maria lay on her stomach atop her bed, a scrapbook sprawled out in front of her. It was a poorly-assembled thing she’d put together a couple years ago during her first few months in Houston. Back then, it had been a much-needed project to take her mind off all the loneliness she’d felt. Now, it was one giant reminder of the past.

The first few pages of the book were full of pictures of her during her pregnancy. In most of them, she was standing in the bathroom of her dad’s house, looking at her ever-expanding profile in the mirror and taking a picture of herself on her phone. In each picture, the baby bump kept getting progressively bigger, and the look on her face kept getting more and more panicked.

Most young mothers probably had plenty of pictures taken of them during their nine long months of pregnancy, but not her. She and her dad had never been close, so being pregnant under his roof had barely even concerned him. And her mom had been so disappointed in her that she couldn’t even fake enough enthusiasm to snap a photo. Not once. So all she had now were these . . . pregnant selfies.

Maria touched the photo of herself at seven months. She looked happier in that one because Max had come back into the picture. He’d told her not to put the baby up for adoption, that he’d be there for her.

He’d lied.

Tears started to sting her eyes, not only because of her own memories, but because of what Michael had told her about Tina today. She remembered Tina. Sweet, innocent Tina, the girl who had gotten excited about getting a solo for choir, the girl who had botched a cheerleading performance at her middle school talent show but still looked adorable in the process. How was it possible that that same little girl was going to have a kid now? She was even younger than Maria had been.

She felt sad for her. And scared. So, so scared.

And partly responsible.

“Hey, Mom.”

She quickly shoved any and all emotions down and put a smile on her face when her little boy came skipping into the room. “Hey, baby.”

“Mom . . .” He gave her a look and climbed up onto the bed.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I know you’re not a baby anymore.” As she flipped through the book, though, it was sure easy to remember when he had been. He’d been cute enough to be one of those calendar babies, that was for sure.

“I was there,” he said, pointing out a picture of him in a little baby bathtub in the sink. That had been his first bath, and he’d had a blast with it.

“Yeah, look how adorable you were,” she said, wishing she would have been able to appreciate it more back then. Back then, she’d been so overwhelmed and so clueless about how to be a mom. And so alone. She hadn’t had the time to savor all the cute little moments he’d given her, because she’d been too busy worrying, stressing.

He settled in close to her and started looking at the pictures in amazement. “Whoa,” he said. “Is that me?” He pointed to a picture of himself with virtually no hair, sleeping in his crib.

“Yep, that’s you.”

He giggled and commented, “I look weird.”

“You look cute.”

He reached out and turned the page, then turned it again, then grabbed a few pages at once and turned to nearly the back of the book. He put his hand next to a picture of the two of them outside at wintertime and remarked, “You look happy there.”

She did. In that picture, there was no worry in her eyes. Only joy. Amusement. Excitement. “Yeah,” she agreed, “I was.” She and Dylan were standing next to a deformed snowman, one they’d spent an hour trying to build. Although he was lopsided and had no face, Dylan had been so proud of it, and she’d loved every second of helping him put it together.

But she knew that wasn’t the only reason why she looked so happy in that picture. Because she remembered exactly when and where it had been taken. Ultimately, when she looked at that photo, all she could think about was that Michael had been the one to take it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sarah left after dinner, opting to head home to Las Cruces tonight to spend even a little more time with her family this weekend. Which left Michael alone with the painful awkwardness that was his sister. He didn’t know what to say to her, because he’d gotten on the phone with his mom, and she’d specifically told him not to yell, not to lecture, fearing that it would drive Tina to hop on a bus and go somewhere else. The safest place for her to be, they decided, was right there with him.

They watched TV for about a half an hour, neither one of them saying anything, until Tina announced that she was still hungry. Without Sarah there, though, options were limited, so he grabbed a small carton of chocolate chip ice cream out of the refrigerator and gave it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling appreciatively.

He sat down beside her on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, swapping the spoon in his hand for the remote control in hers. Screw this ABC Family shit. If she was going to be under his roof tonight, they were going to flip it to sports. He hit the channel number for ESPN, and it was a relief to see college football on the screen. An Alabama game, which meant Kyle would be watching.

“Mmm,” Tina murmured as she took her first bite of ice cream. “This is good. I’ve been so hungry.”

Yeah, I wonder why, he thought sarcastically. He glanced down at her midsection, but she was wearing a loose, long-sleeved Comets shirt, so her bump wasn’t very visible. Good.

She ate a little bit more, then sighed and stared down at her ice cream remorsefully. “I know you’re disappointed in me,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

An apology. Well, that was something. “I’m just worried about you,” he clarified. “I want you to be okay.” He’d done plenty of wild and crazy things in his life, but it freaked him out that she’d started doing them even earlier than he had. He hadn’t asked yet, but he suspected she’d already tried alcohol. Hopefully not drugs, but . . . it was possible.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “It won’t be easy, but . . . I’ll be fine.”

Like it’s that simple, he wanted to say, but he held back. If he started arguing with her, she might not stick around, and he couldn’t risk her taking off and hopping into the backseat of some sleazy college guy’s car.

“What about you?” she asked. “Anything new?”

It almost seemed pointless to waste any time talking about himself while she was in the room, but then again . . . maybe that was what she wanted. Maybe she was tired of talking about herself, her . . . situation. Maybe things wouldn’t be so awkward if he opened up to her about some of the stuff he’d been dealing with lately, too.

“Alright, if I tell you something, you gotta promise not to say anything, alright?” he started in. “I mean, promise.”

“I promise,” she said.

“Like, you can’t tell anyone. Okay? Not Nicholas, not Mom . . .”

She grunted. “Trust me, I won’t tell her.”

“You can’t tell anyone.” If his mom found out . . . well, then she’d end up worrying about both her kids. And there was no need.

“What is it?” she asked, turning to face him.

He sighed, knowing he couldn’t back out now. He had to tell her. “Maria’s in town.”

Her eyes immediately got wider. “DeLuca?”

“Yeah.” It felt a little better to finally say that out loud, though he did feel bad for not saying it to Sarah first.

“What about Dylan?” Tina asked eagerly. That look of hopefulness on her face . . . it reminded him of the real Tina, the young one. The innocent one who used to play with Dylan all the time.

“Yeah, he’s here,” Michael informed her. “I’ve seen him.”

Tina broke into a smile. “Oh my god!” she exclaimed. “I’ve missed him so much. Does he still look the same?”

“Well, older, but . . .” Michael shrugged, smiling as he pictured him sitting in the lunch room with his friends. “Yeah, he’s still Dylan.”

“Oh my god,” she gasped again. “That’s so crazy. That’s awesome. I love Dylan.”

“I know.” He loved him, too.

“So where’d you see him?”

“At his school,” he replied. “The one where I’m doing my practicum.”

“Wow, small world.”

“Really.” Isabel’s arrival in Carlsbad last semester had shrunk his world down a notch or two, but this . . . this made it feel downright tiny.

“So do you, like, see him all the time and stuff?” she babbled. “Do you actually work with him, or--”

“Well, Dylan’s not the kind of kid who needs a lot of guidance.” Which was a good thing, he supposed, but at the same time . . . he wouldn’t mind a chance to get to sit down with him and talk.

“Does he remember you?”

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat, remembering that first day he’d seen him there, the way Dylan had run up to him, hugged him, and called him ‘Daddy.’ Just like old times. “Yeah,” he answered softly. “He remembers.”

“Aw . . .” Tina smiled tearfully. “That’s so cool.”

She seemed to have skipped over the first part of what he’d told her, though, the part about Maria, so he revealed more. “Maria’s taking classes here. We actually have one together.”

Tina’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” He wasn’t about to confess to enrolling in that class on purpose, though, not even to his sister. That was one secret he wasn’t letting anyone know about.

“So have you guys, like . . . hung out?” she asked. “Talked?”

“We’ve talked a little,” he admitted.

“Is it weird?”

“Oh, yeah.” Back when Maria had first left him, he’d dreamed of the day when he could see her again, say anything to her. But now that that day was here . . . he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Because that dream had died a long time ago.

“Does Sarah know?” Tina asked quietly.

God, he wished he could say yes, that she knew everything and didn’t have a problem with it. But he shook his head instead.

“Oh god, Michael,” she groaned. “Don’t do this.”

“What?”

“Don’t ruin what you have with Sarah just so you can go back to . . . her.”

“What? I’m not—we’re not . . .” he sputtered. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I love Sarah.” It was a simple as that.

“Yeah, everyone loves Sarah. She’s awesome. So don’t screw it up,” Tina cautioned.

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” He hated that his own past gave her a reason to question him. But how could it not? He’d cheated on Isabel twice, and the second time had been with Maria DeLuca. It was natural for her to wonder.

“Crazy,” she said. “So Dylan goes to the school you work at, Maria goes to the college you school at, and Sarah has no idea?”

He sighed, feeling like a jerk. “I don’t know how to tell her.”

“Just tell her sooner rather than later,” she advised, “ ‘cause otherwise it’s kinda like you’re lying to her.”

He lowered his head, feeling ashamed. I don’t wanna do that, he thought. Not now, not ever. But he already had.

“That’s not all,” he added. “You remember Max?”

Instantly, Tina’s whole body stiffened. “You mean . . . Dylan’s father?” she questioned shakily. “The guy who came to our house and took him right out of my room? The guy who drove off with him?”

“That’d be the one.” He hated to bring back any memories of that night for her, because he knew she still wasn’t over it. With the exception of finding their father dead in his bed, that had probably been the most traumatic event of her life.

“What about him?” she asked warily.

He pressed his lips together tightly and muttered, “He’s here, too.”

“What?” she shrieked.

“Yeah. I saw him at the school, pretty much started to beat the crap out of him.”

“Why was he there?”

Well, that was the real kicker, wasn’t it? The real punch in the gut. “To pick up Dylan.”

She made a face of disbelief. “What?”

“Yeah. He’s back in his life.”

“And he and Maria are together?” she assumed.

“No, she says it’s not like that.” But it didn’t matter, because it still pissed Michael off that she’d been able to forgive him enough to let him back into her son’s life. It didn’t matter how much of a changed man he claimed to be; there were just some things that were unforgiveable.

“That’s crap,” Tina declared. “That Max guy was a monster, but Maria kicks you to the curb and then goes right back to him?” She grunted. “What a bitch.”

He gave his sister a look, not used to hearing her talk like that. Although she had used a few choice words to describe Maria that summer after she’d left with Dylan in tow. Tina had probably been the one to be the angriest with her, probably because she’d been so young and had a hard time understanding everything. His mom, on the other hand, had been the most compassionate, and his dad had been oblivious and drunk. And back then . . . well, back then, Michael had just been sad.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he reiterated. “I haven’t even told Kyle.”

“No, I won’t say anything,” she assured him. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He appreciated that—he really did. But at the same time, he hated the fact that he had any secrets anymore. Telling Tina was just the start. He was going to have to tell Sarah at some point, and he knew he shouldn’t wait much longer.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
keepsmiling7
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 15, 03/26/16

Post by keepsmiling7 »

I guess Max really has change.......but the others??
It's amazing that everyone wound up in Carlsbad.......is that good or bad??
Thanks,
Carolyn
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 15, 03/26/16

Post by sarammlover »

Well I guess the good news is Michael finally told someone and that someone gave him EXCELLENT advice. Stop hiding things. Stop lying to Sarah and leave Maria ALONE. How on earth are you going to get me back on the Michael and Maria train? Seriously. I am in LOVE with Michael and Sarah. Great update April!
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April
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Part 16

Post by April »

Carolyn:
It's amazing that everyone wound up in Carlsbad.......is that good or bad??
Well, it terms of dramatic storytelling, it's great! But in terms of these characters' actual lives . . . it's complicated.


Sara:
Well I guess the good news is Michael finally told someone and that someone gave him EXCELLENT advice. Stop hiding things. Stop lying to Sarah and leave Maria ALONE.
Ironic, huh, that Michael's pregnant 13 year old sister, who can't figure out her own life and her own self, is able to give Michael some really sound, really solid advice.
How on earth are you going to get me back on the Michael and Maria train? Seriously. I am in LOVE with Michael and Sarah.
I love them, too. I love Sarah. As an author, I'll never attempt to get you to side against them or side against Sarah in this story. There's no reason to, because she's a good person, and they have a good relationship. But I will be interested to see if you ever start feeling those pangs of longing to get Michael and Maria back together. You might. You might not. It's very . . . open, I guess you could say.


Thanks for reading and leaving feedback! I appreciate it a lot.








Part 16








Having lived on campus for two years now, Michael very well could have been a fucking guide. He knew where everything was, knew the stories and the history behind everything. He was like a one-man walking information station. So he took Tina out the next day to get a feel for college life. He wanted to have some fun with her, but more than that, he wanted to motivate her. He wanted her to walk around that campus and envision herself there in a couple of years. And then he wanted her to make the decisions she had to make in order for that to be possible.

“Alright, back behind this building is the building where I have most of my psychology classes,” he pointed out. “And even further back then that’s where I have Music Appreciation.”

“Is that the class you have with Maria?” Tina guessed.

“Maybe.” He pointed out a monumental building on her left and explained, “That’s the honors hall. It’s like a ghost town. I swear, I’ve never seen one person walk in or out of there. It’s creepy.”

She laughed a little and theorized, “I bet they’re all too busy on their computers.”

“And studying,” he added.

“You study a lot,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but not that much.” If he’d gotten the grades he got now back in high school, he actually might have qualified for the honors program. But he was glad he hadn’t. That would have been a lonely existence.

Eventually they got to the main hub of campus, the student union. Seeing that seemed to spark an excitement in Tina. Her whole face lit up as she looked around at all there was to see. There was a stepping crew putting on a performance right out front, and set up near the fountain was a University bookstore tent, selling some of their campus gear at half price. On Plaza Verde, one of the fraternities had set up a huge bouncy slide and were getting some kind of event going.

“Wow,” Tina said. “Is it like this all the time?”

It wasn’t, but he lied just to keep her interest piqued. “Yeah.”

She smiled. “Cool.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her past the steppers and to the bookstore tent. “You wanna go here someday?”

“Yeah,” she said, “you know, if . . . I’m able to.”

You might be able to, he thought, if you give your baby up for adoption. “Yeah, it might be kinda hard,” he agreed, “if you have a kid.”

“But Maria has a kid,” she noted, “and she still ended up here.”

He frowned, not wanting her to think that it was just that easy.

“How’d that happen anyway?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask her.” He would, though, next time he got the chance. He’d been so preoccupied with just seeing her again that it hadn’t even dawned on him that she’d overcome something, that she’d made it past that huge barrier she’d always had in her life. Either she’d graduated high school or she’d gotten her GED. Either way, it was a good thing. And he was proud of her.

“You wanna buy something?” he asked Tina, motioning to all the merchandise on display. Some things were just discounted school supplies, but there were clothes, too, stuff to wear on game day, mostly. Lots of Crimson. Go Aggies.

Tina lifted up a crimson t-shirt that was about her size (for now, at least), and asked about the design, “Is that the mascot?”

“Yeah.”

She made a face. “He’s kind of lame.”

“Hey, don’t rag on Pistol Pete. He’s a cowboy. He’s badass.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fly standing in a small crowd watching the step crew, waving to get his attention. “Here, go ahead and buy something,” he said, handing Tina a twenty dollar bill. If she bought that t-shirt, even if she only wore it to bed, maybe it’d be a constant reminder of what the future could entail for her. Maybe it’d get her thinking. At this point, it couldn’t hurt.

He made his way over to Fly and greeted, “What’s up, man?”

“Nothin’ much,” Fly said, his eyes on Tina. “Who’s that? Papi like.”

Michael shot him a stern look. “That’s Tina.”

Fly grinned and let her name roll exaggeratedly off his tongue. “Tina.”

“She’s my sister.”

Immediately, Fly looked mortified. “Oh, Papi no! No! I didn’t mean--”

“She’s thirteen.”

“Oh, shit,” he swore. “Shit, I—no, I didn’t . . . just forget I said anything, bro.”

“Gladly.” He hated that Tina had hit puberty early and looked older than she was. Hated it so much.

Fly covered his face with his hands and Michael watched as Tina paid for the t-shirt, then spun around and held it up to herself with a big smile on her face. Aggies, it read beneath the mascot’s picture. New Mexico State. Maybe someday she’d get to wear that shirt as an actual student here. Anything was possible, even if it didn’t seem likely. He was living proof of that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess was either working or shopping, and Kyle didn’t know which. All he knew was that she was going to be gone for the afternoon, so that left him to fend for himself. He hobbled into the kitchen only long enough to pop some popcorn during halftime of the Wisconsin/Ohio State matchup on ESPN. After this game, he’d flip over to ABC for the Baylor/Oklahoma game. Then tonight was an SEC matchup between Missouri and Georgia, followed by a late-night PAC-12 game featuring Oregon and Arizona State. It was a big Saturday for any college football fan, as the soft-core games were now out of the way, and the real matchups were starting. Alabama had won last night, and their quarterback was receiving a lot of Heisman hype already. It would probably die off as the weeks wore on, but for now . . . it must have been a cool feeling for him.

The third quarter of the current game was just beginning when there was a loud knock on the door. Kyle groaned, debating whether it was even worth it to try to get up and answer it. Chances were whoever was waiting would be gone by the time he got to the door.

What the hell? Why not? he thought flippantly, getting to his feet. He was trying to use his cane today, just to see if his body could handle it. Once Tess came back home, though, he’d hop back in that wheelchair, because he didn’t want to get her hopes up.

It took him about a full minute, but like an old man, he moved unsteadily to the front door. The curtain was pulled over the window, but he could see two figures outlined on the other side. He could tell by the hair alone that one of them was Michael, and he assumed the other was Sarah.

“You guys should’ve just come in,” he said, pulling open the door, figuring they’d only knocked and waited so he would have to get up and answer it.

Much to his surprise, though, it wasn’t Sarah who was standing next to Michael. It was Tina, and she looked different than she had the last time he’d seen her. Taller, more mature, more makeup. She was wearing an Aggies shirt.

“Kyle!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him right away. The force of her hug sent him slightly off balance for a moment, but he pressed down hard on his cane and managed not to fall.

“Tina, hey,” he greeted nervously. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about the way he looked, because he knew he looked pretty awful. The last time she’d seen him had been a few months after his accident. He hadn’t put on weight at that point yet.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asked, releasing her from the hug.

She shrugged. “Just visiting.”

“Yeah, she just showed up,” Michael elaborated, “yesterday, right outside my apartment. Unannounced.”

She exaggeratedly rolled her eyes.

“Well, it’s . . . good to see you,” Kyle said, too preoccupied worrying about what he looked like to even take a closer look at her stomach and see if she was showing yet. “Excuse me.” He left her with a confused look on her face and staggered down the hall, going as fast as his cane would take him, and shut himself up in his darkened bedroom. Out of sight, he thought, sighing in relief. Thank God. This was how he liked it, how he wanted it. He didn’t want to face anyone he used to know, didn’t want them to see him like this. That was why he hardly ever went home to Roswell, and whenever he did, he dreaded it.

He hobbled over to his bed, sat down, and tossed his stupid cane aside. His wheelchair was pushed into the corner, shrouded in shade. It seemed as if it were glaring at him, taunting him: You should have just used me. That cane makes you look even more pathetic.

Carefully, he laid down and closed his eyes, but he heard Michael’s heavy footsteps coming down the hall. A few seconds later, the bedroom door opened, and his friend slipped inside, shutting the door. “What was that all about?” he said.

Honestly, Kyle did feel bad for only saying a few words to Tina. Back when she’d been growing up, he’d felt like a big brother to her. But not anymore. She was just another person who probably didn’t know what to think when she saw him now.

“Why’d you bring her here?” he asked back grumpily.

“She wanted to see you. It’s been over a year.”

“Yeah, and I still look like crap,” Kyle grumbled. “You don’t get it, man. I’m embarrassed to be seen like this.”

“She doesn’t care,” Michael assured him.

“I care.” It was hard to explain, but there was something about having Tina out there, the girl who used to have a crush on him back in the day . . . it made him feel like complete shit, because now she was probably scratching her head, wondering what she was thinking to have ever liked such a loser. “Just tell her I’m tired, okay? I’m not up to seein’ anyone.”

Michael stared at him long and hard, then shook his head in disappointment. “Whatever, man,” he mumbled, turning and heading back out of the bedroom to break the news to Tina that this visit would be cut short. Extremely short.

“Sorry,” Kyle apologized quietly once no one else was in the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Surprisingly, Michael had a nice day with Tina. They didn’t argue about her situation, and he managed not to lecture her a whole lot about what a brat she was being to their mom. Instead, they just hung out. Brother and sister. And it was nice. It almost felt like old times, like her whole life wasn’t getting more and more complicated with every day while he was just powerless to watch.

He drove her home to Roswell, much to her discontent, and had dinner with her and his mom. That was followed by a short but meaningful conversation with his mother, one where she mostly cried and thanked him for being there for both Tina and herself. He told her he wished he could do more, and she begged him to stay the night.

He couldn’t do that, though. No way could he sleep upstairs in that old bedroom of his right now. Not with . . . . everything going on.

When he said goodbye to Tina, she whispered to him that he needed to tell Sarah, and he knew she was right. So he drove back to Carlsbad that night, resolved to do just that. No more secrets, no more lying by omission. He was going to get it all out in the open, and she’d probably be upset. He might have to sleep on the couch tonight, but tomorrow, she’d wake up, and they’d talk about it some more, and everything would be fine. Because she loved him, and he loved her, and that was really all that mattered.

It was so late when he finally got home that he wasn’t sure if she’d still be awake or not. He let himself into their apartment quietly, and what he saw almost melted his heart. She’d lit all sorts of candles all around the bedroom and was curled up on her side, asleep in one of his t-shirts. Her thick, dark hair was sprawled out behind her, and she looked like she was having a good dream.

He took off his shoes and jacket and knelt down beside the bed, reaching out to gently stroke her hair. He’d hoped not to disturb her, but apparently she wasn’t sleeping too deeply, because she moaned softly, stirred a bit, and opened her eyes. “Hi,” she said, smiling happily.

“Hey.” He touched her cheek, not sure if he could do this tonight. She looked so peaceful and calm that he just didn’t want to upset her.

“Did you take Tina home?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Is she okay?”

He sighed heavily, not sure if he knew the answer to that question. “I don’t know.” At least her time here hadn’t hurt. The whole drive home, she’d been asking him a lot of questions about college classes, and what it was like to go to college football games. That was a good sign.

“You’re a good big brother,” she told him.

“You’re a good big sister,” he returned. “How was Victor’s party?”

“It was fun.”

“Yeah?” He kind of wished he could have gone after all. Being with Sarah’s family was nice, because they were the most stable, loving family he’d ever known in his entire life. “Did he like my present?”

“He loved it,” she said.

“Good.” He looked around the room, counting at least a dozen candles flickering, and teased, “You tryin’ to start a fire here or what?”

“It’s romantic,” she said. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Things always felt better with her around. Warmer, safer, brighter. Sort of like this bedroom right now.

“Come here,” she said, patting the bed.

He loved lying in bed with her, especially when they were falling asleep, so he didn’t take much convincing to climb up onto that bed. He snuggled in beside her, propping himself up on his forearm so he could gaze down at her. She was so beautiful, especially with her skin was illuminated in the candlelight.

“What?” she asked, moving so that she was mostly lying on her back now.

His heart started to race with dread. What if she cried when he told her about Maria and Dylan being in town? He didn’t want to be the one to bring tears to those pretty brown eyes of hers.

“I have to tell you something,” he said.

There was only a slight look of questioning on her face. When she reached up to touch his cheek much in the same way that he’d just been touching hers, he lost his resolve. It vanished into thin air, and he took the easy way out. Instead of telling her the truth, he told her . . . a different truth. “I love you.”

She smiled happily, her eyes twinkling with genuine joy. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

Would you love me less if you knew there was something I’m not telling you? he wondered. But instead of dwelling on it, he pushed the concern to the back of his mind and lowered his head to kiss her. Her lips were soft and warm, just like the rest of her.

Some night, he’d work up the courage to tell her. Tonight just wasn’t that night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The weekend for Maria had been surprisingly relaxing, which was nice. She and Max and Dylan had enjoyed some nice, uninterrupted time together. A couple movies, a few board games, time at the park . . . there were definitely worse ways to spend your days off.

They sat together at the kitchen table as clouds gathered in the sky, making the kitchen seem much darker that afternoon than it normally would have been. Max and Dylan were engaged in a heated game of checkers, and Maria was content to sit back and watch them. They played games a lot, and usually, Max let Dylan win. He almost always let him win checkers, even though he was a master of it.

“Your turn,” she prompted Max when he started to space out.

“Oh, right.” He pretended to think long and hard about his move, then made a stupid one, setting Dylan up for success. Dylan spotted it right away and eagerly jumped over Max’s black piece with his red one. “King me!” he proclaimed.

“Oh, man, you’re too good,” Max groaned. “Are you ever gonna let me win?”

Dylan giggled. “Nope.”

Max took his captured piece off the board, but before he could stack Dylan’s new king piece twice as high, the doorbell rang. “You wanna get that?” he asked.

Dylan pointed to himself and said, “Me?”

“Yeah.”

Maria smiled as he excitedly hopped down off the chair and scampered to the door. They usually didn’t let him answer it unless they knew who was on the other side, as was the case today.

When he opened the door, his fate lit up immediately. “Scawlet!” he exclaimed, still struggling to say her name correctly.

“Hey, Dylan,” Liz said, coming inside. “Scarlet, say hi to your big brother.” She set her daughter down on unsteady legs, and she plopped down on her butt right away.

Dylan laughed, bent down and hugged his sister. “Hi, Scawlet,” he said adorably.

Scarlet made a few gurgles and unintelligible baby noises, cooing with delight.

“She really likes you,” Liz said.

Dylan beamed up at her proudly, then turned back to the kitchen. “Dad, look!”

Max got out of his seat and went to join them. “Look who it is,” he said, bending to scoop his daughter up into his arms. He kissed her and said, “Hey, baby girl,” then looked at Liz and gave her a little smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she returned, standing aside as he, Scarlet, and Dylan all went into the living room to play around.

Maria quickly put the checkers board away, figuring Dylan would have lost interest in it now. Whenever he got to spend time with Scarlet, he was all about her. From the moment he’d met her, he’d loved spending time with her. He seemed to like being the big brother who was able to tell her stuff and teach her things.

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” Liz asked as she shuffled into the kitchen.

“Oh, it’s goin’.” Maria slid the thin board back into the box and set it aside. “Thanks for coming by.”

“Yeah, no problem. Scarlet always likes seeing Max and Dylan.”

“Yeah, they like seeing her, too.” Maria stood back and watched as they all play-wrestled together. Scarlet mostly crawled all over Max’s lap and chest, and Dylan hopped onto his back, trying to pull him down. It was like the perfect snapshot for a family picture. Or a blended family picture, at least.

“So how’re you doing?” Maria asked her friend.

“Oh, I’m good. Just busy, you know?” Liz replied.

“Work? School? Dating?”

“Uh, all of the above.”

“Yeah? How’s it going with that Dave guy?”

“Doug,” Liz corrected. “And it’s not. We have, like, absolutely no chemistry, so I told him I think we should just be friends.”

“Oh.” Maria made a face. “Sorry, that sucks.”

“Yeah, he’s a nice guy; he’s just . . . not the one.” She shrugged helplessly. “Oh, well.”

“Well, you know . . . there’s always Sean,” Maria pointed out. “I know I’m biased since he’s my cousin and all, but . . .”

“But he is a nice guy, I know,” Liz filled in. “And I’m glad you fixed me up with him. We had a great time together, while it lasted. But it just wasn’t meant to last any longer. He’s not responsible enough or ready enough, you know? With Scarlet in the mix, I need a guy who’s clearly a mature adult. If he’s not, it’s not gonna work out.”

“Yeah.” Maria couldn’t help but think back to Michael when Liz said that, think back to the way things had ended between the two of them. And when she thought of Michael, she remembered that there was something she wanted to ask Liz. “Hey, not to change the subject or anything,” she segued awkwardly, “but when Max and I told you we were moving here, how come you didn’t tell us Michael was in town?”

“Michael Guerin?” Liz said, sounding surprised.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” She looked surprised, too. “I honestly didn’t know he was. I haven’t talked to him since . . . two summers ago.”

As much as she wanted to ask Liz what he’d been like two summers ago, if he’d been heartbroken or angry or both, Maria refrained. “Well, he’s here,” she said. “Max’s face ran into his fists at Dylan’s school.”

“Oh my god.” Liz eyes widened in horror. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine.”

“What was Michael doing there?”

“A practicum. It’s like student teaching.”

Liz made a confused face. “Michael’s gonna be a teacher?”

“No, a counselor.” That was almost as unbelievable, although . . . in a way, in a weird way . . . it made sense.

“So he’s taking classes here,” Liz surmised. “No, I haven’t seen him. But I wasn’t taking classes last semester, or the semester before that. I was really busy setting up my shop. So it’s not like we’d run in the same social circles.”

“But it’s a small town,” Maria pointed out. “You never saw him around?”

“Maria, I didn’t know he was here,” Liz insisted. “Last I heard, he’d headed out to Alabama with Kyle.”

“Well . . . that didn’t last long.”

“Because of Kyle’s injury,” Liz said, putting the pieces together. “Kyle came here, so Michael did, too. And now he’s taking classes and . . . wow, I can’t believe he’s at Dylan’s school.”

“Yep.” It was a head-spinner, that was for sure.

“But good for him,” Liz added, “getting an education and stuff.”

“Yeah.” She didn’t resent Michael for going to college by any means; she just would have preferred if that college was far away from hers.

“Crazy,” Liz remarked, watching Max, Scarlet, and Dylan for a few seconds before asking Maria, “So have you run into him then?”

Yes, Maria thought. Plenty of times. But she didn’t want Max to know that, and despite the fact that she and Liz were really good friends, Liz was friends with Max, too. She couldn’t tell her and risk that she would tell him. “No,” she lied convincingly. “Not yet.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Since slam poetry had been such a success, they were sticking with it. Last week’s assignment for Creative Writing had been a sonnet, but Isabel hadn’t had the chance to sit down and compose a good one. She found the most relaxing spot she could that afternoon, outside the student union by the fountain. There were slabs of rock that jutted out into the water of the fountain, one that was the perfect length to stretch out on. It was the perfect spot to just sit and write, as long as she didn’t drop her paper in the water, of course.

My love burns black, she wrote, but that was all she could think of. She couldn’t figure out how to finish out the line, let alone the entire quatrain. She crossed it out and started anew. My icy heart afire for you to see . . .

She cringed, having not the slightest idea where she was going with this. She crossed that one out, too, and wrote as a joke, Clothes off, and lose the smile; look sultry. Maybe she’d write a soft-core porn sonnet. That would be something new and different. But probably not the kind of thing Alex would view as living up to her potential as a writer.

Who am I kidding? she thought dejectedly. I’m not a writer. I never will be. Since none of these assignments were really amounting to anything for her anyway, she decided to let the last line she’d written stand rather than crossing it out.

Since she was having creative difficulties, she willingly let herself become distracted, hoping that inspiration might strike if she just did a little people watching. And almost right away, it did. There came Michael, looking like perhaps the hottest college guy she’d ever seen. He had on a black t-shirt and jeans, and he was with his pervy little Mexican friend, the one who had hired her to strip at Kyle’s birthday party. There were a couple other guys with them, too, but all she could see was Michael.

You sexy beast, she wrote on her paper, I’d fuck you anytime.

She watched as he and his loser friends set their backpacks down on the grass and Michael pulled a football out of his. He was probably the only one out of them who had any athletic talent, so she didn’t understand why he would even bother playing with them. Maybe because playing with Kyle wasn’t a possibility anymore? Whatever. Boys and toys, she’d never understand.

Watching Michael could only be so interesting, though, unless clothing items were removed. Eventually, she found herself getting bored, wanting to stir the pot, wanting to know if he was really truly this light-hearted after the reemergence of his ex-girlfriend, or if he was just putting on a good act.

She closed her notebook, stuck her pen in the binding, and got up, dipping her toes in the cool water of the fountain before slipping her sandals back on. Strutting past a few guys who pointed at her and whispered to each other, she made her way onto the grass and over to Michael, stepping right into the middle of his pointless little football game.

“Do you remember the quarterfinals game?” she asked tauntingly, just to get his attention. “Kyle threw the perfect pass and you dropped it. We could’ve gone to state if it wasn’t for that. We could’ve been champions.” Honestly, she didn’t give a shit about that, but he did. So it was fun to rub it in.

“You guys keep playin’,” Michael told his friends, tossing the football to the nerdy one. Needless to say, he didn’t catch it. The Mexican one picked it up, though, and even though his eyes lingered on Isabel, he said, “Alright, fellas, go long,” and the game continued on without its leader.

“What do you want, Isabel?” Michael demanded.

“Oh, nothing,” she said flippantly. “I was just wondering how things are going.”

“Bullshit,” he claimed. “What’re you really up to?”

She shrugged innocently. “I don’t know. I guess I was just . . . I was just wondering how you’re doing with . . . everything.”

“Everything,” he echoed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know . . . Max and Dylan.” She waited a second before adding, “Maria.”

At first, he played dumb. “What about ‘em?”

“Oh, come on. Let’s not dance around it. I know you know they live here now. You’re doing something at Dylan’s school, right? You and Max got into some kind of fight there?”

“What the hell business is it of yours?” he snapped.

“Well, none, apparently,” she admitted, “since they didn’t even tell me about it. They didn’t even let me know they moved here. Am I, like, the plague or something? Are they afraid they’re gonna catch something from me?”

“Maybe gonorrhea at this point,” he mumbled.

“Ha, ha,” she deadpanned, not amused. “No, but seriously, how are you doing? It must not be easy knowing that Max is back in Dylan’s life.”

He didn’t say anything.

“It’s probably even harder,” she added, “knowing that he’s back in . . . Maria.”

That part . . . that got a reaction. Michael made a face and spat, “What’re you talkin’ about?”

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. He didn’t know? Well, then this was just fantastically perfect. This was more than just stirring the pot; it was rattling it. “Max and Maria,” she said. “They’re together again.”

“No, they’re not,” he argued. “They’re just raising Dylan together. It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” she challenged. “Because I talked to Max last week. He said they’re together.”

“Well, that’s a reliable source,” he muttered sarcastically.

“If they’re not together, why did he have a box of condoms in his grocery bags?” It took everything she had to prevent a huge smile from coming to her face as she spoke. “They live together. They sleep together. They have a son together. This is not a hard science.”

Once again, he was silent, but this time he had an utterly puzzled look on his face, and she could practically see the wheels of his feeble little mind turning as he tried to figure out whether or not she was lying to him.

“Come on, Michael,” she urged, getting a kick out of all this. “I know you’re an idiot, but even you’re not this stupid.”

He glared at her, but he didn’t argue anymore. So she took that as a sign that she’d gotten through, that he believed her.

He didn’t look happy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria texted Max a quick have a good day after he sent her a picture of Old Mrs. Murrow’s house with the caption, another day being a great artist. Mrs. Murrow was the elderly woman who lived at the end of their street, and she’d hired him to repaint the front of her house. It was work, so it was money, but that didn’t mean it was something Max enjoyed doing. Mrs. Murrow was a notorious grump. His day would be an unpleasant one.

Maria had just put her phone away in her purse when she felt a tug on her arm. It was Michael.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, pulling her towards the closed door of an empty classroom. She didn’t argue, though she was curious what could be such an urgent conversation when the lecture hall for Music Appreciation was just down the hall.

The door to the classroom was unlocked, so they slipped inside, and she tried not to give too much thought to his hand on her arm. It was the first time in over two years now that he’d laid a hand on her, and it sort of sent an unwanted shiver up her spine.

He roamed his hand over the wall, looking for the light switch, but shrugged when he couldn’t find it.

“What is it?” she asked.

He dropped his backpack down and shuffled further into the classroom. It was a small space with small desks, reminiscent of any high school classroom across America. Not that she’d spent a whole lot of time in high school or anything.

“I gotta ask you about something,” he mumbled. “Close the door.”

She tensed, not sure if she should do that. But she did anyway. “What’s up?” she asked again. He seemed agitated, so she wanted to sound calm.

“I ran into Isabel yesterday,” he told her.

“Oh.” Was that supposed to mean something to her? Because it didn’t. “Okay.”

He just stared at her for a few seconds, almost as if he were expecting her to say something. But when she didn’t, he blurted, “She said you and Max are back together again.”

Oh, crap, she thought, trying not to show too much of a reaction. Michael couldn’t deal with this. He wouldn’t know how. So instead of revealing anything about herself, she turned the focus back on the gossipy culprit. “Why were you even talking to her about that?”

“Just answer the question,” he growled impatiently.

“Stop yelling at me!”

“I’m not yelling!” He pressed his lips together tightly and clenched his hand into a fist momentarily, then lowered his voice and repeated, “I’m not yelling. I just wanna know if she’s telling the truth.”

“We don’t even talk to Isabel. She’s not a part of our lives.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Michael ground out, “although . . . with the way you’re dancin’ around it, I guess it kinda does.” His shoulders slouched in disappointment.

Unable to look him in the eye and admit it, she looked down at the floor instead.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head angrily. “You told me—you told me you weren’t together. I asked you, and you said you were just raising Dylan with him. You said you guys were his parents, nothing more. You lied to me.”

“Only because I didn’t wanna hurt your feelings!” Her intentions had been good. Really.

“This is bullshit,” he grumbled. “That guy ruined our lives. He almost got Dylan killed. And you just fall back into bed with him?”

“I didn’t fall into anything, Michael,” she insisted vehemently. “Don’t you think I was cautious? Don’t you think I waited and got to know him again before I--”

“Screwed him?” Michael cut in harshly. “You’re screwing him. Just say it.”

“No, shut up, Michael!” she shouted, well aware how loud they were getting. Anyone passing by would overhear quite the intense conversation, even with the door closed. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to waltz back into my life and critique the choices I’ve made. You don’t get to harass me for who I’m with.”

“Yeah, I do,” he argued, “because that guy is single-handedly responsible for the worst night of my life.”

“It doesn’t matter! You don’t get to pass judgment on him! I didn’t pass judgment on Sarah.”

He made a face and roared, “You don’t even know her!”

“Yeah, and you don’t know Max. He’s not the same guy he used to be.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause he’s a fucking changed man,” Michael said sarcastically. “He’s like a saint now, right? We’re all just supposed to forget about all the crap he pulled and bow down to him?”

“I didn’t forget,” she insisted, “but I moved on, just like you did. Don’t try to make me feel bad for living my life.”

“It’s bullshit,” he reiterated.

“It’s none of your business. It’s been over two years, Michael. We’ve been apart longer than we were together.”

“So?”

So?” She huffed, unable to even vocalize her frustration with him in that moment. God, he was just . . . too worked up. He wasn’t going to calm down about this. She’d seen Michael get this way before, and it became pointless to even try to reason with him. It was like talking to a brick wall.

“I can’t believe you,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at her. “I can’t believe you’d do this.”

“What am I doing?” she shrieked. “What am I doing that’s so wrong? My son has a family. He has a mother and father who love him.”

“And love each other?” he challenged.

“What am I supposed to do? Just be alone for the rest of my life?”

“No! But you’re just not supposed to be with him. He’s a loser.”

“Funny, that’s what people used to say about you.”

“Oh, well, apparently you have a type then.”

She groaned in frustration, fighting the urge to pull her own hair out. “God, this is ridiculous! I am not gonna let you stand here and attack me and try to make me feel bad and make me out to be the bad guy in all of this!”

“No, you’re not the bad guy; Max is. But you forgave him.”

“Yeah.” Was that really such a bad thing? “I forgave him.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Listen, I don’t care what you think . . .”

But suddenly, his voice overpowered hers, and he roared, “How the hell could you forgive him when you couldn’t even forgive me?”

Her mouth dropped open, and words escaped her. She wanted to yell right back at him, to not let him have the last word. But what was she supposed to say to that? That wasn’t his anger talking, or jealousy or resentment. It was sadness. Regret.

They stood together in that empty classroom, surrounded by silence for a few seconds, like their argument had gone from zero to sixty, only in reverse. And when Michael seemed to get fed up and feel that he wasn’t going to get an answer, he picked up his backpack and mumbled, “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” He glared at her and bit out, “I don’t even care anymore,” as he stormed past her and left the room.

Maria closed her eyes, letting out a defeated sigh, her shoulders slumping as all the energy drained from her. Maybe she should have told him, been honest with him right from the start, but this was exactly why she hadn’t. Now he was furious, and she was confused, because she didn’t know if she was more upset with him or herself.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
keepsmiling7
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 16, 04/02/16

Post by keepsmiling7 »

To say things are complicated in Carlsbad.......is an understatement.
Love Michael being nice and spending time with Tina. She is going to need her brother more than ever later on.
So Sarah is aware that Maria and Dylan are in the same town...!
It's so cute that Dylan and Scarlet like each other. This is a blended family I didn't expect to see.
Thanks,
Carolyn
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 16, 04/02/16

Post by sarammlover »

Ugh Isabel! Still stirring up shit!! SHe needs to get a LIFE! Seriously. WHat the hell. And Michael had such a great opportunity to tell Sarah! I really wish he had. Don't take this the wrong way...but this story depresses me. It makes me sad this group is so fucked up in all their own ways. Hoping someone in that group gets something good in the NEAR future! HA!!
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April
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Part 17

Post by April »

Carolyn:
To say things are complicated in Carlsbad.......is an understatement.
Definitely!
Love Michael being nice and spending time with Tina. She is going to need her brother more than ever later on.
She's going to need him more than she realizes. I love writing their dynamic.
So Sarah is aware that Maria and Dylan are in the same town...!
Did you mean Liz? Because Sarah is completely unaware right now. Michael has yet to tell her anything.

Sara:
Ugh Isabel! Still stirring up shit!! SHe needs to get a LIFE!
Oh, she has a life. Just not a very good one. Which maybe explains why she likes butting into other people's lives when she has no reason to.
And Michael had such a great opportunity to tell Sarah! I really wish he had.
He really needs to. The longer he puts it off, the harder it will be.
Don't take this the wrong way...but this story depresses me. It makes me sad this group is so fucked up in all their own ways.
Oh, I'll never take that in the wrong way. In fact, I'm pretty used to it. It seems like my stories always involved really fucked up characters who somehow manage to fuck things up even more. :lol:


Thanks for reading and leaving feedback! I appreciate it!








Part 17








The last thing—the very last thing—Maria wanted to do was spend any time with Isabel. She and Max had made it a point to make sure she was not a part of their lives. They didn’t want her interfering in their business, and they didn’t want her around Dylan. She was just too . . . trashy, honestly. But it was clear that she was determined to not be pushed aside. It was like she was desperate for attention. So Maria had to deal with her.

Confronting Isabel meant that Maria had to wait around for Creative Writing to get done. The class must have run late, because it took forever. But finally, Isabel came outside, and when she saw Maria waiting for her, she made a face of contempt. “Well, look who it is,” she snarled. “My least favorite person on the planet.”

Maria stared at her in disbelief, shocked that she was still holding onto all that bitterness. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Pissing you off, apparently.” Isabel smirked, then got serious again and asked, “How did you even know I’d be here?”

“Liz told me you take Creative Writing with Alex twice a week, so I took a chance that you’d be here instead of at home making porn.”

“Hmm.” Isabel glared nastily. “Like I said, least favorite person.” She made sure to give Maria a subtle little shove as she walked around her.

But Maria wasn’t about to let Isabel walk away without getting some answers. “Why would you tell Michael about me and Max?” she called after her angrily.

Isabel slowed to a stop and turned back around. “I didn’t think it was a big deal,” she said. “He’s moved on from you. I mean, I’ve seen his current girlfriend, and she’s way hotter than you. No offense.”

Maria ignored that jab. “You had to know it would upset him.”

Isabel made a face. “I don’t care. You know, it kind of upset me when he cheated on me twice, but I got over it.”

“Did you?” Maria challenged. It really didn’t seem like it.

“Whatever,” Isabel dismissed. “Just be flattered, Maria. At least he still cares who you fuck.”

Maria took a few steps forward, pointing an accusatory finger at the other girl and growling, “Isabel, you have no right to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong. I know you hate me, but get over it. What happened between you and me and Michael was years ago. We were in high school.”

Isabel grunted. “You weren’t.”

Maria rolled her eyes, feeling as if she were talking to a brick wall. “You know what? Just mind your own business. Anything that’s going on in my life . . . just stay out of it.” She stomped past Isabel, fighting the urge to lower herself and give her a bigger shove on her way past.

“How did you know I said anything to Michael?” Isabel asked loudly.

Maria froze. Oh, crap.

“Did you talk to him?”

I’m such an idiot, she thought. Such a stupid idiot. She turned around, trying to look calm and unaffected. “No.”

But of course Isabel didn’t believe that. She would have been dumb to. “You must have,” she said. “I mean, how else would you know . . .” She trailed off, grinning almost devilishly. “Classic. You guys are at it again.”

“Isabel--”

“I wonder what Max would say,” she cut in firmly, “if he knew you and Michael were . . . reconnecting.”

Feebly, she tried to protest, “We’re not--”

“Because when I asked Max, he said you guys haven’t even seen each other. He said he and Dylan saw Michael at the school, but not you.”

Maria felt her stomach start to knot up. This wasn’t good. She’d rushed to confront Isabel without even thinking it through, and now she was caught in a lie. And Isabel seemed all too willing to expose her.

“Yeah.” Isabel nodded deliberately, delightfully. “I wonder what Max would say.”

Exposed and unable to hide it, Maria whirled around and walked off at a brisk pace, trying to block out the sound of Isabel’s laughter behind her. She had plenty of errands to run this afternoon, but she was skipping them now. Had to. She had to get to Max and tell him everything before Isabel did it for her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As she drove over to Mrs. Murrow’s house, Maria planned out what she was going to say to Max, knowing that, in the moment, it would probably all go right out the window. She’d forget or get flustered and start saying it wrong. Or she’d think of something else she needed to say and add it in at last minute.

When she got to the house, she found him hard at work. It was a small, one-story thing, so he’d nearly finished the front of it already, and it looked good. Almost brand new. Mrs. Murrow would be pleased, or at least as pleased as a grumpy old lady could be.

She hated to have to have this conversation with him, but in the end, she knew she had no one to blame but herself. As nice and convenient as it would have been to say it was Isabel’s fault that it had come to this, it wasn’t. She had to take all the blame. Isabel, as wretched as she was, was only threatening to bring to light lies Maria never should have told in the first place.

Max looked surprised to see her when she got out of the car. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she returned quietly, her heart racing with nerves. She moved swiftly across the front yard, joining him up by the house, trying to remember what she’d practiced saying on the way over. She couldn’t. Great, already she’d forgotten. This would go well.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, setting his white paintbrush down on top of a plastic lid.

“Just thought I’d stop by,” she said casually, somehow managing to sound anything but casual.

“You wanted to catch all the excitement here, huh?” He looked down at his paint-splattered hands and wiped them off on his worn, stained jeans. When he looked up at her again, he must have noticed the concern in her eyes—or perhaps it was written all over her face—because he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong yet, but it probably would be in about thirty seconds. “I need to tell you something,” she said quietly.

“Is everything okay?”

“That . . . remains to be seen.”

He frowned, stared at her for a few seconds, and then his eyes widened. “Are you . . .” He just trailed off, but she knew what he was asking. He thought she was trying to tell him she was pregnant.

No,” she assured him emphatically. “It’s not one of those talks.”

“ ‘cause I was gonna say, if you are, I’d handle it better this time.”

She smiled sadly, knowing he would. That was why this sucked so much. Max was a really good guy these days. He didn’t deserve someone who would lie to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again.

A tear spilled over onto her left cheek.

“Hey . . .” He reached out to wipe it away, but she turned her head, not letting him. He looked confused as he withdrew his hand. “It’s okay,” he assured her.

She shook her head. “It might not be when it’s all said and done here.”

He frowned again.

“Max . . .” As hard as it was, she knew she had to just say it, get it out there, be truthful about it. Better late than never. “I haven’t been completely honest with you,” she confessed, ashamed.

“About what?” he asked.

She drew in a shuddering breath. “About Michael.”

He flinched, but that was all. Like he was trying not to overreact to it.

“I knew that Michael was in Carlsbad before you saw him at the school,” she admitted.

“What?”

“Dylan said something, but I chose to ignore it. And then I saw Michael on campus.”

“You saw him?” Max echoed.

“I’ve seen him,” she corrected, “a couple of times.”

Max’s frown intensified. He was starting to look . . . hurt.

“We have a class together,” she squeaked out.

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately.” God, she hated this.

“You have a class . . . with him.”

She nodded solemnly. “Music Appreciation.”

Max snorted. “Michael Guerin appreciates music?”

“Apparently.”

“Or does he just appreciate you?”

She’d considered that at first, too, but with everything he’d told her, it just didn’t seem likely. “No, it’s not like that,” she assured him. “He’s over me. He has a new girlfriend now. They’ve been dating for, like, two years now.”

“Wow,” Max said, and at first she thought he meant wow as in, Two years. That’s a long time. But when he said, “You sure know a lot about what he’s been up to,” she realized he was wowing her knowledge of what was going on in Michael’s life.

“Well, I mean, we have talked,” she admitted, “a little.” That fight made it more than a little, though. That had been a full-out heated argument, just like the kind they’d had at the end of their relationship.

“So how long have you known he lives here?” Max questioned.

“I only found out a few days before you did,” she said, glad that at least she hadn’t known months in advance. “He hasn’t been in the music class the whole time.”

“But you’ve seen him,” Max recapped. “And talked to him.”

She felt like there was a hand clamping down on her nervous heart. “Yes.”

Max swallowed hard and nodded contemplatively. “And you didn’t tell me,” he said. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” It seemed so obvious now that she should have. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t . . .” He shrugged. “. . . really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Or you can yell, if you’re mad. I wouldn’t blame you,” she babbled fretfully. “God, I just—I feel so horrible. I lied to you.”

He nodded grimly in agreement.

“You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna drop the class,” she decided on the spot. “I’ll just take it next year.”

“No, don’t do that,” he said.

“No, I want to,” she insisted. “It’s too weird. It’s not right.”

“It’s your education, Maria. It’s too important to you. Don’t drop it.”

“But I don’t want it to bother you.”

“The only thing that bothers me is that you kept me in the dark about all this,” he said. “I can handle the rest.”

He shook her head skeptically. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“I can handle it.” He gave her a long, hard look, like it was important for her to agree with him. Max had come a long way since leaving Roswell. He was no longer the same guy who couldn’t control his emotions, who spun out of control when things didn’t go his way.

Max bent down and picked up his paintbrush again, turning his back to her. “You should just go,” he mumbled. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

She nodded, accepting and understanding the fact that he needed some time alone right now, some time to process all of this. It was the least she could give him. “I’m sorry,” she reiterated, feeling like it wasn’t enough to just apologize. But she had nothing else to offer him as she turned and sulked back to her car.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael strained as he brought the bench press bar down near his chest and then pushed it back up again. “What am I at?” he managed to ask as he held it there.

Behind him, Steve said, “Oh, you mean . . .? I don’t know. I lost count.”

“Really?” Feeling tired, Michael struggled to get the bar back in its holding rack. It was loaded down with a hundred and eighty pounds of weight, which was actually twenty pounds lower than the two-hundred he used to drill back in high school. But it was still tiring.

“Hey, I’m not used to this,” Steve said, helping him put the bar back in the holder. “I don’t work out.”

Michael sat up when the bar was secured, wiping the sweat off his brow. “I do. Especially when I’m pissed.” Ideally, this was the kind of thing he’d do with Kyle, but . . . not anymore.

“Yeah, I noticed you were kinda on edge,” Steve commented. “What’s up with that?”

“Nothin’,” Michael answered. “I mean, there is something, but . . . you don’t wanna hear about it.”

“Sure I do.” Steve stepped around the machine and stood in front of him with eagerness in his eyes. “Tell me. Come on, my wife is pregnant. All I hear about is how hungry she feels and how sore her back is. I wanna hear somethin’ else.”

Well, you asked for it, Michael thought as he reached down for his water bottle and took a quick drink. “Alright, fine. My ex-girlfriend’s in town.”

“Ooh.” Steve tapped his fingers together, intrigued. “This sounds good. Are you talkin’ about the girl from high school?”

“Yeah. Not the porn one,” he clarified.

“There’s another one?”

“Yeah.” There were plenty of girls form high school in his past, but he only really cared about one of them anymore.

“Wow,” Steve said. “That’s interesting. What’s she doing here?”

“Living here. Takin’ classes. Gettin’ under my skin.” Michael squirted some water onto his head to cool himself down.

“Does Sarah know?” Steve inquired.

“No. And you can’t tell her.”

“I won’t. But man, that sounds . . . like a recipe for disaster,” Steve warned.

Disaster? No, he and Sarah were way too solid for that. But it still wasn’t good, and he knew it. “I’m gonna tell her soon,” he vowed.

“Yeah, good idea. And what’re you gonna do about the ex?”

Michael sighed, wishing he had an answer to that question. “I have no idea.”

Steve just nodded for a few seconds, then lowered his voice, as if he were afraid Cheryl was lurking there in the gym, and hesitantly asked, “Is she . . . is she hot?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Yeah, of course she’s hot. That’s pretty much my type.” Isabel, Maria, Sarah . . . all good-looking girls. There was no doubt about that. “She’s an idiot, though.”

“Oh, like an airhead?” Steve assumed. “Hot but dumb?”

“No, she’s just . . .” Maria definitely wasn’t an airhead. She just didn’t always make the greatest decisions sometimes. “I don’t get what she’s doin’. She’s hookin’ up again with her ex, who also happens to be an ex-addict, who also unfortunately happens to be the father of her son.”

Steve’s mouth opened up slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He looked . . . confused.

“I told you you didn’t wanna know,” Michael said.

“No, I’m fascinated. I can’t believe people actually have lives like this. Cheryl and I must seem boring in comparison.”

“No, you and Cheryl . . . you guys are solid,” Michael said. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” Maybe if he and Maria had been a little more solid and predictable . . .

Whatever. It didn’t do him any good to think about that now.

“Let me just keep blowin’ off some steam, alright?” he said, lying back down on the bench press. He reached his arms up and gripped the cold metal bar.

“Alright,” Steve said, shuffling behind the machine again. “Do you want me to keep count this time?” he asked as if helped Michael lifted the bar off its perch.

Michael lowered the weight, grumbling, “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dylan was sleeping peacefully. All night, it was as if he didn’t even know that anything was wrong, that there was any tension between his parents that needed to be addressed. And Maria was glad about that. Dylan had dealt with enough stress and anxiety in his life, even if he didn’t remember it.

Maria put her son to bed, watched adoringly as he slept for a few minutes, and then got up and left his room, quietly closing the door. She stood in the hallway for a few seconds, listening to the running water of the shower, and then she made the decision to slip into the bathroom and shut that door carefully, too. She locked it, just so Dylan couldn’t get in if he woke up.

Max stood beneath the water, rinsing out his hair. She could see the muscles of his shoulders and back even behind the slight distortion of the shower door. Either he hadn’t heard her come in or he was waiting for her to get in with him, so she took off her shirt, unhooked her bra, and then pushed her jeans and panties down to her feet. She stepped out of them on tiptoe and crept to the shower door, pulling it open as quietly as she could, and got in, moving in behind Max, wrapping her arms around his midsection.

He immediately stopped running his hands through his hair and lowered them to rest atop hers. His body wasn’t tense, and he didn’t object to her being in there.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered for the umpteenth time, pressing her right cheek against his back.

“You keep saying that,” he remarked.

“I keep meaning it.” In fact, she felt like she couldn’t say it enough. They were just words. What if they couldn’t convey how truly sorry she was?

“It’s nice to hear,” he admitted.

She nuzzled his slippery skin, asking, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He looked back over his shoulder at her. “Right here? Right now?”

“Well, yeah.” It was actually, in a way, the perfect place. They were alone, and with the water running, it would block out anything they were saying, so if Dylan did happen to get out of bed, he wouldn’t overhear them.

Max adjusted the temperature of the water so that it was slightly warmer and turned around, putting his hands on her waist. “It’s okay, Maria,” he told her.

She frowned, putting her hands on his shoulders. “What is?”

“All of it.”

She stared at him intently, trying to understand. And she didn’t. “No, it’s not. I kept a secret from you. I lied to you.”

“You did,” he acknowledged calmly. “But it’s okay.”

“How can that be okay?”

“Because I know you were just looking out for me,” he said. “You were worried I’d react badly. You were worried it would upset me. But it doesn’t.”

“Really?” She doubted that. “It doesn’t upset you that I lied to you?”

“Well, I wish you hadn’t, obviously, but I’m not gonna dwell on it.”

“And it doesn’t even upset you that Michael and I have a class together?”

“Well . . .” He smoothed one hand around her waist to rest comfortably in the small of her back. “I’m not exactly thrilled about that, but . . . it is what it is. I mean, I always figured we’d run into him again.”

“You did?” Funny, she’d never figured that. Somehow, she’d had it in her mind that, when she had driven away from Roswell and left him standing on that lonely street in his blue graduation robe, she’d never see him again. Ever.

That would have been easier.

“Having Michael Guerin around doesn’t make me insecure, okay?” Max assured her. “I know who I am. I’m Dylan’s dad, I’m your boyfriend, and we’re all really happy. Right?”

“Right.” The last year and a half had been . . . unexpected, but in a good way. Their lives were good. Dylan had a family. It was what she’d wanted right from the beginning.

“So I’m not . . . threatened,” Max went on. “I have no reason to be. I love you, and I love Dylan. That’s all that matters.”

Was it, though? It sounded nice in theory, but she couldn’t help but feel that all of this did matter. Like fate was playing some sick, twisted joke on her or something. She could have gone to college anywhere, and she’d chosen Carlsbad. They could have moved anywhere for her to pursue her education, and this was where they’d ended up. Out of all the places . . .

“I trust you,” he said, moving his hand up her back so that he could twist the ends of her wet hair, “just like you trust me.”

“Even after I lied?” That was a lot of trust.

“Even after that.” He smiled, then warned, “Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t,” she promised. She’d learned her lesson this time. Admitting this secret to Max today had been hard enough; she’d never keep another one from him. “So you forgive me?”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Of course I do. You’ve forgiven me for a lot worse.”

Well . . . she supposed that much was true. But for her, it had been a process. For him, this was instant. But they were closer now than they ever had been, so it made sense that he wouldn’t labor over his forgiveness the way she had. And even though what she had done was bad . . . what he had done was still worse.

“Come here,” he said, bending his head to give her a gentle kiss. He pulled her in closer to hug her, and she turned her head to the side again, resting it against his chest, content to just stand there with him for a while and let the water wash over them.

This was nice. The only thing was . . . with him being so trustful and so forgiving, it made it a lot harder to dwell on feeling guilty.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Even though he would have gotten more grading done by himself, Alex didn’t turn Liz away when she showed up at his office for lunch. It was nice to have someone show up there since none of this students ever did.

She was polishing off a carton of Chinese food and Scarlet was sleeping while Alex worked his way through a small pile of poetry. Some of them were really good, and others were really bad. There really wasn’t a whole lot in between.

“What’re those?” Liz asked.

“Sonnets.”

“Ugh.” She made a face. “No thanks.”

He marked a major spelling error on the paper in front of him—the guy who had written it had accidentally typed out penis instead of pen is. And of course the computer hadn’t caught the error. “You really don’t like English, do you?” he teased Liz. “What, did you get a B in it or something?”

“No, I got an A,” she readily informed him. “I just never liked it. It’s so open to interpretation and subjective.”

“Yes. Therein lies the appeals.”

“No, but there’s never really just one right answer. And I don’t like that. See, what I like about math and science is that there’s this procedure. Every time. You work through the process, and you find the right answer.”

“Or you could create your own answer,” he said, circling a big red C on top of the spelling-riddled paper. Without the multiple errors, it would have been a decent poem.

“I feel like it’s too uncertain,” Liz said. “With math and science, you’re either obviously right or obviously wrong. There’s no grey area.”

“Unless you’re doing an experiment,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“Really?” He didn’t get that. What was so different about someone who was experimenting with a theory in science and someone who was experimenting with an idea through writing?

“Oh, what do I know?” Liz said, sighing. “I’m studying business.”

“You know plenty,” he said, looking at the name on top of the next paper in his stack. Isabel. Well, at least she’d written the required number of lines. He could tell right from the first one, though, that he wasn’t going to like it. Let me take off my clothes and move for you, it read. Great, so the whole thing was going to be about porn? Or stripping or whatever the hell else she was into these days? That wasn’t exactly the deeply thought-provoking substance he wanted from her. Her slam poetry piece had been so good that he hated to see her lose the momentum.

“Whose is that?” Liz asked, leaning forward to get a better look. “Isabel?”

“Yep.” He read on, still unimpressed. There were lots of graphic descriptions of the things she did while the camera was rolling. He felt like he was reading pure smut, and he was actually kind of shocked she would even turn this in to be graded.

“She came into the bakery the other day,” Liz said, “wanted to see Scarlet.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. Which I don’t have a problem with if her visits are few and far between, because I know she doesn’t really have any family anymore. Everyone’s, like, disowned her.”

“Well, just don’t let her babysit or anything,” he suggested.

“Oh, well, obviously.” Liz tossed her food carton into the nearest trashcan but kept the chopsticks, tapping them together as she spoke. “Anyway, I think I kinda slipped up and told her Max and Maria moved to town. I wasn’t aware she didn’t already know. So anyway, I think she was trying to, like, cause drama for them or reinsert herself into their lives or something. I don’t know. I don’t really know the specifics.”

“Probably best to just stay out of it,” Alex remarked.

“Yeah, I plan to.”

“Good.” Liz had enough on her plate with her business and her daughter. She didn’t need to get dragged into any drama Isabel was trying to start up.

Alex looked back down at the paper and finished reading the last few lines. He was about to slam a failing grade on the top of it when the last line changed his mind. The very last line. Ten syllables that shifted the tone of the entire poem.

I wish I was somebody else tonight.

He stared at that line, almost transfixed, wondering if she’d just tossed it in there in a hurried effort to be done, or if she’d actually thought about it beforehand, analyzed it once it was there. He wanted to hope for the latter, because if she had written that for a reason, then that meant that there were still some hidden depth to Isabel Evans, no matter how far down it was.

“Is it good?” Liz asked, tilting her head to the side curiously.

It still wasn’t her best, wasn’t what she was capable of, but that last line salvaged it, gave it meaning it didn’t have before. “Yeah,” he said, marking a B on the top of the page. “It’s good.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Even though Maria’s mornings were hectic and she was usually one of the last people to get to class, she showed up early to Music Appreciation on Thursday, hoping she’d have a little time to talk to Michael. Just to clear the air. Max knew about it, knew that she’d likely be having some more conversations with him if she stayed in the class. And he was okay with it. More than okay, actually. He’d even said she had to confront and deal with her past, just like he’d had to confront and deal with his own.

She sat in the back row, impatiently waiting for Michael to walk in. But as it drew closer and closer to 9:15 and he still wasn’t there, she was beginning to wonder if he’d even show up.

Maybe he’d dropped the class. Maybe he’d been so fed up and so pissed off on Tuesday that he was just done. If that was the case . . . it would simplify things, sure, but . . . it would also leave them with no closure whatsoever. And she didn’t want that.

As stupid as it was, she actually got a little excited when she saw him walk in. Or at least thought she saw him. Same spiky hair, same tall frame, but it wasn’t him. It was some other guy who just hadn’t bothered to comb his hair that morning. Not Michael.

Come on, where are you? she thought impatiently, looking around. Had he slipped into another seat without her noticing? She didn’t see him at all.

The professor came in a minute after 9:15, and because he was late, he started in right away. “Alright, in the spirit of our 1920s music unit, I’ve got a video to share with you guys today,” he said, flipping a switch to project the computer screen up onto the board. He hurriedly navigated to Youtube and searched for hip hop Charleston. “I promise, it’ll be one of the most amazing things you’ll ever see,” he vowed.

Maria sighed and sat back, sinking down in her seat a little. This was going to be a long class.

When it was all over, the hip hop Charleston really had been pretty amazing, and the discussions they’d had about prior decades’ musical influence on today’s tunes would have been riveting if she’d be able to focus on it. But her mind wandered throughout the whole class period, and she found that she couldn’t wait to leave.

On her way outside, she took out her phone and contemplated calling Michael. His number, even after all these years, was still right there in her phone. She’d never had it in her heart to remove it, even though she’d tried. But as it turned out, she didn’t need to call him, because he was right there. He was lying flat on his back on an expanse of impossibly green grass, probably the fake kind. His hands were behind his head, sunglasses covered his eyes, and oversized Beats headphones circled his head. Even though people were walking all around him, passing from class to class, he looked blissfully oblivious as he relaxed and tuned everything out.

So he’d skipped class. But obviously he had wanted to run into her. Why else would he just be lying there in plain sight?

Maria put her phone away and stuttered down the steps, making her way over to him. She stood over him, casting a shadow, and said, “What’re you doing?”

He took off his sunglasses and squinted up at her, even though it wasn’t sunny. “I can’t hear you.”

“I said what’re you doing?” she asked again, louder this time.

“Appreciating music,” he replied easily. “Although I was appreciating it a lot more before you were here.”

She rolled her eyes, sensing that he was going to be difficult. Stubborn. Not at all willing to listen to what she had to say. Figuring this might take some time, she tossed her purse down on the ground and reluctantly took a seat beside him. This was stupid, talking to him out here instead of somewhere private where people couldn’t overhear them. But then again, maybe being out in public would help. He couldn’t very well yell at her out here.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

“What?”

She motioned for him to take his headphones off, and at last he did. He left them draped around his neck, music still playing loudly. Metallica. Of course.

“Can you turn that off?” she asked. It was really distracting.

“Why?”

“Because I wanna talk to you.” God, this was like pulling teeth. All she wanted to do was apologize and move on. It should have been so simple.

After what seemed like forever, he tapped a button on his phone to shut the music off, but he stayed lying down. “What do you wanna say?” he nearly demanded.

Her mouth felt dry, and she wondered why she hadn’t rehearsed this, practiced what she would tell him the way she’d practiced what she would tell Max. “I’m sorry I wasn’t totally straight-up with you,” she apologized, and she really did mean it, genuinely. “I shouldn’t have misled you about me and Max. I should have just been honest with you about how involved we are right from the start.”

“Involved,” Michael echoed, his face tight, as though the word left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I just knew you’d react badly,” she tried to explain. “I knew you’d be upset.”

He propped himself up on his forearms and said, “Oh, so you were . . . you were just tryin’ to protect me?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Uh-huh. And how’s that workin’ out for you?”

She sighed, deflated. Why couldn’t he just stop being a jackass and make this easy? Accept her apology and get over it? “Look, Michael . . . I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not gonna apologize for being with Max, because he’s a really good guy now, and things have been really good.”

Michael snorted and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“What?”

“I just . . .” He sat all the way up, his shoulders tense, body language angry. “I don’t know how you can look past every bad thing he’s ever done to you. I mean, this is the guy who was never there for you when Dylan was born. This is the guy who was willing to do everything he could to keep us from moving to Alabama and taking Dylan with us.”

“He’s not the same guy,” she insisted.

“Yeah, he is!”

“Don’t yell.” It would be embarrassing to get into a huge fight in front of all these people.

He took a breath, paused for a few seconds, then continued on, his voice lower this time. “This is the exact same guy who came into my house, took Dylan, and drove off with him. How the hell could you get over that?”

“It took time.” Her mom hadn’t understood it, either, not at first. Really, the only person who understood perfectly was Liz, because she’d had to work through a similar process with Max.

“How much time?” Michael asked. “A couple weeks, a couple days?”

“Months,” she informed him. “He just showed up one night in Houston at this pizza place where I was working, and . . . I mean, I didn’t talk to him. I didn’t wanna talk to him; I didn’t want anything to do with him. But then he showed up the next week, too, and eventually . . .” She trailed off, not sure how much he wanted to hear.

“The rest is history?’ he filled in agitatedly.

She sighed, unable to explain how it had happened that she’d really opened up her life to Max Evans again. All she knew was that it had happened gradually and naturally and that, so far, she had no reason to regret it.

****

“Well, that was fun,” Max remarked.

“Yeah, it was,” Maria agreed as the two of them exited NRG stadium. A lot of other fans had already left, because the game hadn’t gone in favor of the home team, but Maria had been glad to stick around for the whole duration with Max. They’d had a good time.

“Preseason’s kinda lame, but it’s still a good atmosphere,” Max went on.

“Yeah.” Maria had never been one to follow the NFL, but living in Houston was definitely getting her intrigued. The Texans were hardly a good football team, but it was nice to have a team to root for. She’d gone all out tonight, purchasing and wearing a dark blue Texans t-shirt with red and white stripes on the sleeves. On the front was the bullhead logo, and on the back was the last name of the team’s franchise player, Watt, and his number, ninety-nine. Add in jeans and some eye black, and she looked like a real football fan. Max had told her she looked cute.

Not that she cared.

“I didn’t know you knew anything about football,” Max said, dropping his empty popcorn bag into a trash can as they walked past.

She didn’t want to think back to that Alabama spring game she and Michael had gone to over a year ago, but that was exactly what she did. She remembered sitting there in the stands with him, needing him to explain every play, every signal by every referee, every rule. That had been a fun time, too.

She pushed the memory out of her mind and said, “Well, Dylan likes it, so I gotta know something about it.”

“Right.” Max took off his Texans hat, holding it in his hands, staring at it intently as he walked. “You know, speaking of Dylan . . .” he said leadingly.

Maria tensed as he slowed down and eventually stopped altogether, standing in front of her. He looked like he wanted to ask her something, and she had a feeling she knew exactly what it was.

“Next week’s the last home game of the preseason,” he mumbled, moving the hat around in his hands. “I’ve got three tickets, so maybe we can bring Dylan along.” He immediately shrugged as if it were just a small suggestion. “I don’t know. If you want.”

“Max . . .” That was a big step, one she just wasn’t sure she was ready to take yet. “I don’t know.”

“I get that it’s a lot to ask,” he acknowledged. “I just thought . . . we’ve been hanging out for four months now. That’s a pretty long time, and things have been goin’ well.”

“Yeah, they have been,” she agreed. “Really well. It’s just . . .” She couldn’t help but wonder if part of the reason why they’d actually managed to have fun together and enjoy each other’s company was because they hadn’t dived into any serious territory yet. And what would happen if they did?

“Why don’t we just try it?” he urged. “Just to see how it goes.”

“What if it goes badly?” she asked.

“Why would it? You said Dylan doesn’t remember anything about that night, right?”

She let out a shaky sigh. “No.”

“So it’ll be like he’s meeting me for the first time. And we don’t even have to tell him I’m his dad. Just introduce me as Max. And if that’s what he knows me as and calls me for the rest of time, that’s fine with me. I just wanna be part of his life.”

He sounded so . . . not desperate, but determined. Like he really believed in this, really wanted it. Like he really wasn’t going to allow himself to mess it up.

She cocked her head to the side and stared at him intently, curiously, weighing the pros and cons in her head. On the pro side was the fact that he was Dylan’s biological father, and he really did seem like he was a different guy. A much better one. He was the kind of guy Dylan would like having in his life. But on the con side was just the uncertainty of it all. This couldn’t be an act that he was upholding—no one could just
act decent for four months. But still . . . what if it didn’t last?

“We’re friends, right?” he said, smiling encouragingly.

She laughed a little, so unused to that word. “Shockingly.” It wasn’t just that she’d never envisioned being Max’s friend; it was that her life had contained so few true friends. There was pretty much him, Michael, and then a few girls from middle school whose faces she wouldn’t recognize today. But the Max Evans she’d come to know these past few months
was her friend, as hard as that was to believe, and in a weird, weird way, she was grateful for it.

“And you like me again,” he stated. “So the real question is . . . do you trust me?”

She inhaled shakily, trying to feel out the answer to that question. Trust was huge, and it was something she’d learned to give out very sparingly. And it was hard to trust someone who had done so much to hurt you, so much to hurt Dylan.

Yet there she was, standing outside a football stadium with him, decked out in fan attire, actually contemplating if it was truly possible. That had to count for something.

“I think I do,” she said, not quite willing to confirm it totally and completely yet. “But that scares me. And it’s confusing.”

Max swallowed hard and nodded solemnly, as if some of that determination of his was starting to fade. “It’s okay,” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked.” He forced a sad smile, then put his hat back on, deliberately trying to pull it down far so that it partially hid his eyes.

She frowned, not sure if she was making the right decision when she squeaked out, “Max?”

“Yeah?” He was trying to keep an unemotional look on his face, but it was obvious that he was disappointed she hadn’t jumped on board with his idea.


Oh, please let this be the right thing to do, she thought, working up all her courage. “Okay,” she decided. “Maybe Dylan can tag along next week.”

For a second, Max looked stunned. But then, when it sank in, his eyes lit up, and a smile spread across his face. For some reason, that made her smile, too.


****

Michael sat stiff as a board, but his face conveyed a range of emotion. Disbelief. Fury. Disappointment. And a whole lot more. “So just like that, huh?” he snarled. “A few football games, dinner dates, and smooth words, and all of a sudden he’s got his foot in the door again.”

She rolled her eyes, figuring that he wouldn’t get it no matter how many times she tried to explain. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand. I barely understood it myself. But Max got his life on track and figured out who he is. Who he wants to be. Not unlike someone else I know.” She gave him a pointed look.

He made a disgusted face. “Don’t even compare him to me.”

“Why not? You guys aren’t that different.” Rough past, positive changes . . . she could think of stranger comparisons. “I know that’s not what you wanna hear right now, but it’s true.”

“No, I might’ve been a loser back in high school, but I wasn’t like him,” he argued.

“But you weren’t like you are now, either. You’ve changed, so why isn’t Max allowed to do the same?”

“No, he’s allowed. I just don’t think he really has.” Michael shrugged unapologetically.

“How would you know? You don’t know him,” she persisted. “Not really. You know the guy from the bridge that night. But that was the worst version of him.”

“Yeah, he’s due for a relapse, don’t you think?”

She wanted to yell at him for having the audacity to make a joke out of that, out of something so serious. He of all people, having grown up with an alcoholic for a father, should have known better than to make a joke out of addiction. “Look, the bottom line is, Max and Dylan and I are a family now,” she stated plainly. “It’s the decision I made. I’m sorry if you can’t accept that.”

“Oh, I can accept it,” he claimed. “I just can’t respect it.”

“Fine, you don’t have to.” She blinked back the tears that were building up, threatening to fall over. She wasn’t sure why, but hearing him say that, that he didn’t respect her decision . . . it hurt more than he could possibly know.

Wordlessly, he took his headphones off of his neck and unhooked them from his iPhone, dropping them into his backpack. Like he was about to leave and leave her wondering where they stood again.

She knew she couldn’t let him go without clearing one very pertinent thing up first. “But as for this idea of me forgiving Max when I haven’t forgiven you . . .” She heard the emotion in her own voice, and it startled her. She pushed it down and kept going. “I took the final step in forgiving Max that night at the football game. But Michael . . .” She looked down at her lap, her voice barely above a whisper when she told him, “I forgave you a long time ago.”

He was too angry, though. Even that couldn’t seem to satisfy him. “Great,” he muttered, getting to his feet. “Thanks for that, Maria.” He slung his backpack over one shoulder and started heading off.

Clamoring to her feet, she called after him, “Michael!”

Reluctantly, he slowed and turned back around.

She flapped her arms against her sides, unsatisfied with the way this conversation was ending. “Is this really how it’s gonna be?” Was everything going to be an argument from here on out? Was everything he said going to be some dig at Max?

“What else do you expect?” he grunted.

“I don’t know.” She hadn’t expected any of this. She’d expected to move to Carlsbad, take classes, and live her life. Nothing more. But then he came along and caught her all off guard. “Is it impossible to think that we might actually be able to be . . . friends?” She cringed as she said the word, because at this point, it sure seemed impossible.

“Were we ever just friends?” he asked back.

“We were once,” she said. “Back before we were ever together.” She had fond memories of those days, of helping him study in the Crashdown, of him walking her home as far as she would let him. Of bringing him root beer instead of actual beer. It hadn’t taken her long to develop a crush on him, because he was so damn charismatic; but even then, even after she’d grown aware of her feelings for him . . . he’d been her best friend.

“Fine,” he decided unenthusiastically. “We’ll be friends.”

She wanted to be hopeful about that, but it was hard to be when he walked off without one friendly wave goodbye, or one friendly smile, or even once bit of friendliness in his tone. She stood and watched him go, exhaling a defeated, exhausted sigh.

It was starting to seem like finding a place for Michael in her life was going to be just as long of a process as finding a place for Max had been.








TBC . . .

-April
Image
LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
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