These tiny pieces of his past helped me understand him a little bit better. It certainly didn’t excuse everything that he had done, but I was better able to get the motivations. Maxx cleared his throat and forced a smile back on his face. “So Jayme was the party girl and you were the homebody, right?”

“Not entirely. I went out with friends. I had a life. I just had my priorities,” I said.

“I have no doubt you were the girl in high school I would never have had a chance with. You have always been way too good for a guy like me,” he said, chuckling in that self-deprecating way of his.

I didn’t respond. What would be the point?

Our coming together all those months ago was a perfect storm of circumstance. Maxx had walked into my life at a moment when I needed the chaos and insanity that he created, whether I had realized it at the time or not.

“Jayme was . . . unique. She had these crazy toe socks that were all of these different colors. When she was in a bad mood, she’d wear them, swearing they were the key to having a good day.” I shook my head, snorting. “I have no idea why I just told you that,” I said, feeling embarrassed.

“That’s cool, I had a pair of those toe sock things, too,” Maxx remarked, and I arched my eyebrow in disbelief.

Maxx shrugged. “Seriously. My mom got them for me when I was a kid. When it was really cold out I’d wear them around the house. They were ugly as hell, but fuck if they weren’t comfortable,” Maxx said, turning down a gravel road, rocks hitting the underside of his car with audible clangs.

“Jayme and I used to dress up in our mom’s skirts and blouses and would put our hair up in buns. We’d pretend that we were Amish. Our parents had taken us to Pennsylvania Dutch country one summer, and we became sort of obsessed. I don’t know why. Maybe it was the awesome horse and buggies or those kick-ass bonnets.” I rolled my eyes and Maxx smirked. “We’d spend all weekend refusing to watch television or turn on lights. We’d light candles in our rooms and do stuff like try to sew scarves. It was kind of ridiculous.” I couldn’t believe I was admitting this to him. I wasn’t used to talking about Jayme like this. Not in a positive way, focusing on the good memories. But it felt good.

Better than good.

How was it that the man who had shrouded me in so much darkness was now giving me nothing but light?

Once we had started sharing these seemingly random stories, it was like neither of us could stop.

Maxx told me about sneaking into his dad’s bedside table and finding his nose hair trimmers and proceeding to shave baby Landon’s eyebrows off. I then told him about pretending to be mute for an entire day and how Jayme insisted on being my interpreter. We had developed our own version of sign language that we used until she died.

Soon I was chuckling. A deep, from-the-gut laugh that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. I barely realized Maxx had parked the car beside a large brick stable.

“We’re here,” Maxx announced, shutting off the engine.

I got out of the car and followed Maxx around the side of the building. It smelled like hay and horses and a lot like manure. I crinkled my nose.

“Mr. Wyatt?” Maxx called out, unlocking a gate and going inside. He held out his hand, and I took it without thinking. He pulled me after him, and I jogged a bit to keep up.

“Hi, Maxx.” A balding man with a threadbare plaid shirt and dirt-streaked jeans came out from one of the stalls, a shovel full of horse crap in his hand.

“Is it all right if we take out Brandy and Earl?” Maxx asked, still holding my hand tightly, almost as though he was worried I’d run off.

Mr. Wyatt nodded and swung the shit-laden shovel toward the stalls at the back of the stable. “Sure thing. Now, you said you had riding experience, right? What about your friend?” he asked. Maxx nodded and squeezed my hand. I nodded, too, though the truth was, I hadn’t ridden a horse since I had gone to summer camp when I was twelve.

“Okay, well, those two are gentle beasts; I don’t think you’ll have any trouble. Just stay in the corral,” Mr. Wyatt instructed.

Maxx tugged on my hand, and we walked in the direction of Brandy and Earl’s stalls. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

Maxx nodded his head, his lips splitting in a huge grin. “Nope.”

“Figured,” I muttered, snickering.

“How hard can it be?” Maxx shrugged, and I finally saw some of that easy confidence of the boy I used to know.

“I think you’re about to be pretty surprised,” I warned.

“I’m a quick learner. I’ve helped Wyatt put on saddles a few times. I’ve got this.” Maxx pulled two leather saddles off the wall and lugged them over to a pretty gray mare with kind black eyes and the softest ears I had ever felt.

I cooed to her, scratching her neck. Brandy was a sweet and gentle horse, which was good, because I was beginning to think this experience was going to end up with either Maxx, me, or both of us falling on our asses.

Maxx hefted the saddle onto Brandy’s back, and she stood there patiently as he fumbled with the buckles.

He grunted as he repositioned the saddle several times before getting it right. I peered at it nervously. “Are you sure it’s on there correctly?” I asked.

“Of course.” Maxx stepped close, leaning down until his mouth was next to my ear. “Don’t be scared, Aubrey. I won’t let you fall,” he said softly, his voice low.

I shivered at the feel of his breath on my neck. I couldn’t help it. It was an involuntary reaction to his proximity.

I helped Maxx drag the second saddle over to the next stall and put it on Earl’s back. Earl seemed stressed. He pawed at the ground and didn’t act overly thrilled to have Maxx attaching the saddle to his back.

“This one seems kind of hard to handle, Maxx,” I said, eyeing the horse apprehensively.

“Nah, Earl’s awesome. Wyatt rides him all the time.”

“Mr. Wyatt has also been riding horses for years. He probably makes it look pretty easy,” I offered, not trying to be a negative nelly. But the last thing I wanted was to take Maxx to the hospital with a broken neck.

“You’ll see, Aubrey. I’ll be riding this horse like a pro in no time,” Maxx stated with enough self-assurance that I almost believed him.

He was able to attach the saddle to the back of his horse a bit more easily than he could with Brandy, but when it came time to mount Earl, the ornery horse wasn’t having it. Earl moved around, not letting Maxx get a strong grip on the reins so he could pull himself up.

“Uh, I don’t think he wants you on his back, Maxx.” I chuckled, watching Maxx try to control the uncooperative horse.

“He’s just being moody,” Maxx griped, trying to put his foot in the stirrups again. Earl took a step forward, and Maxx lost his balance, falling into a pile of horseshit.

“Fucking hell!” he yelled, and I lost it. I started laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe. Maxx struggled to his feet and promptly lost his footing again and fell onto his back.

“You could help me out here, Aubrey,” Maxx said, holding out his hand.

“Sorry, it’s just you’re in a literal pile of shit there, Maxx,” I pointed out.

“You’re so damn funny,” Maxx muttered.

I grabbed his hand and started to pull him up, when he gave my arm a hard tug and I fell beside him in the manure.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” I shrieked, trying to stand up but losing my footing, just as Maxx had. The crap seemed to be sucking me down.

It was Maxx’s turn to crack up, but the humor of the situation was now lost on me.

The smell was atrocious, and the squishy feeling between my fingers was making me nauseous.

I looked down at my ruined clothes and at Maxx. His eyes were twinkling, and he was grinning even though we were sitting in horse poop. He looked happy. Maybe the happiest I had seen him since that day we had gone sledding.