“You felt sympathy,” Max says. The words make my face crumple in a frown as I begin to rebuke, but realize he’s right. I did. I’m not sure why exactly, but I know that I did.

We sit quietly for a moment, the hum of the engine lolling me into a quiet sense of peace as I let the fear fade with each mile we go.

“Why did you go to Alaska?” Max looks over at me, his eyes wide. “You don’t have to tell me, I just always wondered why you left.”

“No, no, it’s just that people only ask me why I came back, like they forgot I had a reason to go.” He pauses and adjusts the radio as the band that we’d listened to together in his kitchen after the TP incident streams softly through the speakers.

“I went to find my dad. I needed to know why he left.” Max sits quietly as my heart breaks a little for him. I can’t imagine having lost my father, especially to have him just walk away one day and never look back.

“My grandma had heard that he and my uncle ended up in Alaska. When I got there I met this guy that told me this long story about my dad and how he used to be a fisherman with his brother for this company that went out for Chinook Salmon and King Crabs. So I went and tried to find the ship that they had worked for. My dad was long gone, but they offered me a job and the chance to go to more ports where he might still be working.”

His eyes flicker to me, and the right side of his lips quirk up before he turns back to the road. “That’s where I met Jameson. We spent seven months out on the ocean together. Few people remembered my dad. So when we docked I got off and enrolled at the University of Alaska and continued looking for people that might know something. Jameson and I met Landon there. He’d just gotten out of the Army and was going to school. Every once in a while someone would swear they knew who I was talking about and would tell me where to go, but they were all a bunch of loose ends. Who knows, he’s probably dead.”

Max’s fingers clench the wheel. “He was a heavy alcoholic that liked to gamble and use his fists to make his hard-headed points. He’s been gone a long time.”

I work to swallow several of the words I want to say. “I feel sorry for him.”

“What?” He looks at me with a grin I know is forced.

“I feel sorry for him, for missing out on seeing who you are.” Max raises an eyebrow as he balks. “I’m serious. You’re pretty great, Max.”

As we pass a well-lit stretch, shadows dance across Max’s bare chest. I’ve seen him shirtless several times now, from both running together and swimming, yet the image still distracts me. My eyes slowly trace over the planes of his chest and the contours that accentuate his abs, over to his tattoos.

“What are you thinking about over there, Ace?” My eyes flash to his and I feel my face flush as I turn to look away, trying to formulate a comprehensive sentence.

Thankfully his phone rings saving me. We both glance down to see the name ‘Megan’ light up across the screen. I glance at the clock and see that it’s nearly two in the morning.

“You can get that if you want,” I say, folding my hands in my lap and regretting my earlier admission.

“That’s alright,” he says, clicking ignore as we pull into his driveway.

I wrench the door open as soon as the engine shuts off and slam it behind me, trying to convince myself to not care that a girl is calling him at two in the morning, and the reason for it. He stops me at the back of his Jeep.

I open my mouth to say a forced thank you when Max’s frustrated tone stops me in my tracks. “Why are you still dating him?”

This is not where I had anticipated the conversation going, and it makes me feel defensive since he’s been ignoring me to hang out with Felicia, and possibly Megan. I take a breath and close my eyes. I don’t want to fight with Max. I miss his friendship.

“Why does it matter?” My voice comes out quiet as I work to keep it level and calm from the rush of conflicting emotions.

“Are you kidding me? Why does it matter?” Max lifts both of his arms in the air like he wants to grip something, and then lets his hands fall behind his head tilting up. He stares at the sky for a long moment. “Why are you doing this?”

“You’re dating Felicia!” The words come as an accusation. I’m not even positive that he’s referring to us; I’m hardly ever certain because he dances on this gray line so often it’s making me go half insane.

“What do you want me to do?” His voice is raised with frustration. “You confuse the shit out of me, Ace!” He quietly growls as he runs his hand over his head which is now dipped to the ground.

“I’m tired of trying to read through the lines, Max!”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you! As your friend, I’m telling you, you should dump the fucker and get it over with. He’s a complete dick.” And with that he’s done it again, bringing me back to a lighter shade of gray as we return closer to the friendship line. “You deserve better than him.”

“I appreciate your friendly advice, Max,” I say dryly, taking a wide step around him.

“Ace …”

I turn, waiting for him to say what I need to hear. His lips part, but before he says anything, his phone rings piercing the moment.

“It sounds like she’s looking for you,” I say, looking at him, willing him to object or deny it. He stares back at me for a long moment before I turn around and make my way to my house.

“Dammit!” I hear Max growl in frustration, but I don’t turn around. I know if I do right now, I will reveal too much.

It’s been six days since I’ve seen Max. I’m driving myself crazy as I overanalyze everything about my relationship with him.

I’ve been cleaning for the past couple of days, using the excuse of going back to school and needing to pack to remain holed up in my room. I know from the looks and the many check- ins that I receive from my family that they can see through my excuse, and I won’t be able to hide out much longer.

“Are we okay?” I look up from scrubbing the baseboard and see Max making his way into my bedroom. He sits on the edge of my bed, waiting for my reply.

“Are we okay?” I repeat, wishing to know the answer myself.

“I haven’t seen you since Dante’s.”

I shrug noncommittally. “I’ve been busy. You’ve been busy.”

“I haven’t been busy. Did I do something?” Max stands up and takes a step closer to where I’m crouched. I have no idea what he’s thinking by the guarded expression on his face.

“No, of course not.”

“Do you want to go get something to eat?”

“I’m busy right now,” I answer, reaching into the bucket of diluted bleach to rinse my sponge.

“Scrubbing the walls?”

“Why do you care?”

“Why are you upset with me?”

“I’m not upset with you.”

“What are you, then?” He fires.

“Busy,” we both answer his question.

“I can’t fix it if you won’t tell me what it is.”

I shake my head, turning my attention back to the baseboards.

“Is this about Felicia? Because I’m pretty sure you’re still dating Eric.”

“No, we’re friends, Max. Friends don’t see each other every single day. There’s nothing weird between us.” I’m not able to hide the irritation in my tone.

“Alright,” Max says, retreating to the door. “I’m not going to push you to talk to me. But when you’re ready…” he changes directions and walks over to the window with the shade that has been permanently closed for the past nine odd years and tugs the strings to raise it “…you have my phone number. You can call me, text me, send me an SOS, throw a damn rock at my window. Hell, I’ll leave it open so when you’re ready, you can just yell to me. But don’t push me out, Ace. You don’t want that either.”

Before I can respond he strides out my bedroom door. I let out a deep sigh, dropping the sponge back in the bucket as I lean against the wall. Agitation bubbles inside of me with the knowledge that he’s right, and even more so because he knows he’s right. I stand up. I need to get out of here for a while.