38. MAX

Chapter thirty-eight

MAX

I had spent the day working on my back yard, which needed a bit of work. The overgrown lawn and unruly flower beds were looking parched and untidy. I had neglected them as summer had come on, and now the whole place looked like it was suffering.

I made my way to the shed, gathering tools, a rake, the shears, and the big bag I threw the green waste into. For hours, I worked away under the hot sun, sweat beading on my brow. I stripped down to nothing more than my shorts, as I had that day at Eddie's, when Frank and Julianne had turned up.

Doing that made me realize that I had become someone too used to his own company. I had, over time, withdrawn not just from women and dating but from life in general. That day, I had felt so happy, with my guy inside the house and me doing things for him. I felt a little hunger for that feeling then: that sense that you were doing something for someone else.

For him.

The day wore away, and the sun began its descent. A honeyed light fell over the back yard as the brightness of the afternoon passed over. I stopped to sit on the steps of my back porch and look at what I had achieved. Sitting, folding my bare feet over each other, and leaning against the pillar of the porch, I surveyed my handiwork with satisfaction. The yard was looking okay. The lawn was cut. The flowers were still wilted, but they'd get over it.

With weary limbs and a sense of contentment settling over me, I got back up and put away the tools and the bag of cut grass and branches and then retreated indoors, thinking about getting a shower. The physical exertion and the sun made my body feel tired, in a good way.

In my kitchen, I stopped to drink a glass of water. Pouring it from the faucet and letting the water run cold, I felt the cool condensation of the side of the glass against my palm as I lifted it to my lips. I drank deeply, then poured myself another glass. I hadn't realized how dehydrated I had become, how thirsty.

Setting the glass back down on the countertop, I heard a notification beep on my phone, which I had left over on my little kitchen table. The blinking light summoned me closer. Picking it up, I unlocked the screen and saw the name.

JARED

I hadn't heard from him for a good few days. I didn't know whether Eddie had told him not to text me, although that really wouldn't have been Eddie's way.

I opened the message and read the words. As I did so, I felt a surge of mixed emotions because the truth was that, without my connection to his uncle, over time, I would end up with no real connection to him.

This was what he had written:

I think you better come over here

I didn't understand.

To Frank's house???

I am not at Frank's – I am at MY house

You should come over

I still didn't understand. I didn't want to upset him, but I didn't want to get into any teenage drama, either, especially with my ex's nephew.

I think I'm good, man – are you there alone?

Jared was typing…

Don't be a dumbass Max

Eddie is here

Back from NY

I felt my whole body tense. He was there, back in the city. He hadn't told me he was coming, but that didn't matter. It was understandable that he hadn't. Jared was typing again…

My Uncle Frank & his family are here, but they are leaving in like five minutes

I am not sure this is a good idea

Dude

Come and tell him u love him dude

Man the f up

And then, just like that, he was gone.

***

I made up my mind at once. I didn't even have to think. I knew I should probably shower, but I didn't. I couldn't risk going over and having lost the moment. I pulled a clean white T-shirt from my laundry and threw it on, found some boots, pulled them on, and grabbed my motorcycle helmet. I couldn't let this chance slip away.

I might not get another.