The Romance Line (Love and Hockey Book 2)

Everly

Max’s face is ashen. “I knew the accident was serious. But I didn’t know it was that bad,” he says, then shakes his head like he’s mad at himself. “I should have realized.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know because I didn’t really say how bad it was,” I say gently, since I’m the one who held back.

He reaches for my hand this time. “What happened?” It’s said like he’s imploring me to tell him, but he doesn’t need to because now that I’ve started I’m not going to stop.

“You know how I told you she used to have this thing about saying yes?”

“I do.”

As a gentle fall breeze rustles the leaves in the nearby trees, I begin. “She loved to try new things and admittedly, I did too, so that was something we did together, but she took the lead. She’d leave Post-it notes in the apartment about different things she wanted to try. Pole dancing was one of them. I don’t know why. Maybe somebody came to her restaurant who was a dancer, but she got it in her head that we had to do it. She looked it up and found the studio through their online videos and signed us up for a class.” I pause for a moment. Max waits patiently for me to share more so I keep going. “So we were all set and I was running a few minutes late, which never happens, but it happened then. And I drove us.”

I stop to take a breath since this is when it gets harder. When the memories threaten to slam into me at a terrifying speed. “We were almost there. I was making a left turn. Nothing out of the ordinary. But out of nowhere, a car slammed into her side.”

My heart seizes as the images flash fast, hard, relentlessly. Hitting me in the chest, in the mind—everywhere. But I have the tools to stay grounded in the present. In the smell of the fall flowers, in the feel of the wood of the table, in the bell-like jingle of the wind chimes, and…in Max’s bright eyes. “The next part I don’t remember clearly. I only remember snapshots. The airbags releasing at record speed. A horrifying sound of crunching and metal. The car rolled. I felt a…snap. The world turned upside down. I was trapped against the door, I think. The window shattered. There was glass and metal all over my side, and I could feel the heat from the fire somewhere, but all I was doing was trying?—”

I stop. Cover my mouth with my free hand. Fight off the onslaught of tears. But I can’t smother them. What’s the point in even trying? Some stories just come with tears.

I lower my hand, and let them fall as he grips my other hand, like he’ll hold on for all time.

I try again. “I was frantically trying to unbuckle her—I don’t even know why. I think she was already gone. But I didn’t know that. I had to save her. Then I heard sirens and fire trucks and they were pulling us out…The next thing I remember was waking up from surgery. There were all these machines and noises, and my throat hurt and my mouth was dry. My head was aching. I was thirsty. Then I remembered— her . What happened to her? Where was she? Was she okay? The nurse kept saying, you’re okay, honey. They got you out just in time .”

Max rolls his lips together, clearly holding in his own emotions as I wade through the ocean of mine. I can’t stop the crying. The tears and me are one. “But there was no just in time for her.”

I stop because it’s too hard to talk past the noose tightening my throat. I need several seconds to breathe, and I take all of them fully. “My mom was there. She’s the one who told me that Marie was gone. And I felt like I’d died too, but I was still alive to feel all the hurt.”

“I’m so sorry for all of this. I’m so sorry she’s gone. I know you loved her,” Max says, with so much hurt in his voice too.

I never used that word with him—love—but I never had to. He knew . He could tell.

“She was like my family,” I say. “I’d known her since I was five. I’m not close to my parents. They’re complicated and critical. But Marie was the opposite. She was like my sister. And somehow, incomprehensibly, in the middle of all this, I was alive and in this very broken body.”

“You’re not broken,” he says with so much intensity but also with cracks in his own voice too. His eyes shine.

But I was. Parts of me still feel that way. “I had a lot of surgeries for broken bones and for burns, and I went to rehab for my injuries.” I look at him straight on and I might as well be naked as I say, “But I still have scars all over my back and my left side. I didn’t hate them at first. I don’t even know that I do hate them. But when I tried to date again, the first guy I went out with…”

I stop because I hate how weak this makes me feel. How insecure. How…vain.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

Max hisses, “Who made you feel this way? Who made you think you’re less than?”

Less than.

That’s exactly how I’ve felt ever since I last took off my clothes for another person. “He was just some guy. We dated for a month. He seemed…decent. Like a nice man. But once he saw—” I gesture to my upper arm, my back, my hip. “He ghosted me.”

Max clenches his jaw. His eyes brim with fiery rage. “He’s the one who made you feel like you’re not good enough. He’s the one who hurt you.”

“Maybe,” I say, then shrug, because I need to take some responsibility too. “But I think I did as well. I didn’t want to show anybody my body anymore. I didn’t want anyone to see all these imperfect pieces.”

“He’s wrong,” he says, emphatic. “You’re beautiful everywhere.”

I love that Max says that, but he hasn’t seen the worst parts of me. Even so, I’m trying to feel that way on my own too. Trying to trust myself. Trying to trust him. “Thank you. That’s why I go to pole. To escape from these less than feelings. To find myself again. To say yes again. But it’s taking me a real long time,” I say, forcing out a laugh—at myself—even though it’s not really funny. But I don’t want to drown in tears anymore. I try to swim out. “The other night, I finally took my shirt off at pole with my teacher, and I did some tricks in a sports bra and shorts for the first time. I hadn’t done that before. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I don’t really show the scars to anyone. I honestly think my teacher is the only one who’s seen them. But I felt safe there.”

Max runs his hand along my bare arm. His touch is gentle this time, reassuring. “How did you feel when you did the tricks?”

I don’t fight off a smile now. “Pretty damn badass.”

He presses his forehead to mine. “You are badass. And beautiful.” He pulls back, pinning me with his strong gaze. “And today, out like this…you’ve never looked sexier.”

I run one hand over my shoulder. I’d almost forgotten my skin was on display, but none of the waitstaff have looked at my shoulder with a poor you look in their eyes. No one has noticed the scars except this beautiful man sitting across from me, and all he’s done is praise them.

“You don’t have to show them to me until you’re ready, but you need to know this, Everly—I’m not that guy.”

It’s my turn to reassure him. “I know you’re not. And it means a lot to me to know that. Truly, it does.”

“Good.” That one word has more passion than anything I’ve ever heard. “Like I said, we can take everything at your pace. But I’m not going to freak out. You have to trust me.”

I want to trust him. But trust is a blade that could cut me all over again. “I’ll try. I promise.”

“I promise to always earn it.”

My chest tingles and a warm, heady pull tugs low in my belly. His eyes say he does too. For a second, I’m convinced he’ll risk a kiss and that I’ll say yes and melt into his arms. But the moment is broken when a server comes out and brings us our food. Maybe we needed this levity. This break.

When he’s gone, Max says, “Thank you for telling me.”

I tug on the neckline of the kind of a shirt I’ve only had the guts to wear with him. “Thank you for giving me a chance to wear a shirt like this.”

His eyes fill with warmth. And a tenderness that says he understands exactly what that means. “You can have all your chances with me.”

The thing is, I think I know that.

But I wish that I hadn’t found all these chances in a man I’m not supposed to be with. A man I can’t figure out how to fit into the rest of my life.

I made a promise three years ago to live my best life. I don’t know how to fit all these wild feelings for him into that promise. I don’t know how wanting him so deeply aligns with my career. With my need to support myself.

This job pays for my life. I don’t have any fallbacks. I can’t rely on my family. I can’t take the risk especially when I’m lucky to be alive.

But right now, I have to hold on to that luck for exactly what it means— today . This moment. I look around, soak up the sun, and tilt my face to the sky. I’m not trapped in a car that’s starting to burn. I look at Max once more. “At least there is this beautiful day.”

We eat.

When we’re done, Max says like it’s a dare, “Say yes to dessert.”

“That’s easy. You know I like cake.”

“Then say yes.” He’s so bossy.

“Yes.”

A few minutes later, a coconut cake with mango filling arrives, and we share it. When we’re done, the sun dips lower in the sky. Max looks to the nearby gravel lot, then me. “Say yes to coming to my place now.”

As if I would say anything else. “Yes.”

Then he flashes me an I’ve got a secret smile. “Good. Because there’s someone I want you to meet.”

I blink. What? Who the hell could that be?