Chapter 66

CHAPTER 66

M ax was sleeping late, so I went downstairs and made coffee and just tried to make sense of the past month.

There was so much to make sense of.

He came into the kitchen, looking sleepy but well rested. A man who'd told me last night that he loved me and meant it. I know, I know, only a month, but I loved him absolutely and I believed he loved me.

"Are you okay?" he said, his voice gentle, and I thought about how he'd changed from that guy I'd met that first day, and I loved him even more.

I nodded. "I'm trying to deal with Ozzie. It's been a month, and I've cried for him, but I've never really . . . thought about him. About who he must have been." I looked at Max. "I know he was probably a killer, but he was a good man who loved us. And I loved him. Nineteen years, Max. He was the father I never had. He was Poppy's grandpa. He was part of us. And until I saw that square from his shirt, I don't think I really knew . . ." My throat caught, and I tried again. "It isn't just that I miss him. You helped with that, you really walked right into his shoes, but he's gone, and I can't believe it. It's worse because Geoffrey stole him from us, but he's gone forever, no matter what, and I want him back. "

Max put his arm around me, and that felt right; he'd been doing that a lot the past month. "I'm not Oz," he said.

"I know. I don't think I want you to be Oz. I just want him back. Both of you." I looked at him. "He would have loved you. Given you hell, of course. He and Pike would have had a high old time poking at you. But wherever he is, if he's somewhere where he can watch, he's all for you."

Max didn't say anything, just sat there with his arm against my back, his hand heavy on my shoulder, solid and silent.

"I hate Geoffrey Nice," I said finally.

"Yeah," Max said.