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I just have to get comfortable with being part of her
family.
John appears from the kitchen, where I hear a chorus of
familiar voices. I make out Louisa's laughter and Veronica's
giggles, right as the warm smell of home-baked cookies hits
my senses.
"There you are!" Veronica pokes her head out of the
kitchen with a generous wave in our direction. "The boys are
back in town!"
"We thought you'd never get here," Louisa chimes, and
blows us both a kiss.
"Long flight, you know," I kind of mumble, glancing all
around me. Max sails right to the kitchen, hugging Veronica
and Louisa, and I suddenly feel stranded. Like a stranger in
the middle of what should be familiar territory.
That feeling of panic from the car intensifies. It's rapid and
suffocating, only now there's nothing to white-knuckle except
the suitcase that I'm left gripping in my hand.
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"Can I take that for you, Hunter?" John asks, patting me
on the back. "Show you the guest room?" For a moment, I
feel a little dazed, and wonder if he means that I'll be staying
in a room by myself again, without Max.
But I can't possibly voice that question, and instead I find
myself following him toward the back of the house, kind of
agreeing to a long series of his friendly questions. What a
great guy, it's still true; he just chatters along about how glad
he is we've come, that we didn't let "things" keep us away.
That Leah's thrilled we're staying with them.
Then we're in the guest room, and I see that there's a
king-sized bed, piled high with downy comforters and feather
pillows. Totally inviting, with no doubt about the message it
all conveys. He confirms my thoughts. "This is where you and
Max are staying."
Together. No arguments, no confusion, and certainly no
shame.
"Thanks, man," I mumble, feeling slightly embarrassed.
Not sure why, I mean, hell, he toasted to our wedding just a
couple of months back. Maybe it's just that he's so freaking
open about us being together.
He leaves me alone to settle in, and I sink to the edge of
the bed. My heart is racing and I've broken out into a cold
sweat. For a long moment, I stare at the rug and wonder
what the fuck is wrong with me. I'm with my soul mate, home
for Christmas, part of his family.
I should be happy, because for the first time in years, I'm
not alone. But the problem is, I've spent my whole life alone,
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so maybe I can't do this. Maybe I'm just no good at being
part of a tribe.
"Hunter?" Max pokes his head into the bedroom, and his
eyes are shadowed with worry. "You okay?"
I'm lying on the guest bed, staring up at the ceiling,
feeling cranky as hell.
"Just tired." It's more of a grunt than an actual statement.
Max shuts the door behind him and steps close. He runs
his hand over the top of his head, and I know that look on his
face; he's not sure how to read me or what I need.
"That all?" he finally asks, sounding uncertain.
"'Course that's all. Think I'm gonna take a nap." Never
mind that I've just blown off everyone back in the kitchen and
living room.
Max settles on the mattress edge and reaches to brush my
hair away from my face. "Hunter, talk to me." I recoil from
his touch, jerking my head sideways, and he withdraws his
hand like he's just been burned.
"Everything's fine." My voice is tight, like the rest of me
feels.
"Doesn't seem like it."
"Leave it alone, Maxwell. I'm okay."
He licks his lips and still just stares at me.
"What?" I finally cry, meeting his intense gaze. "What's the
problem? I'm tired, all right?"
"And you're being a dick."
"Oh, thanks a lot, man."
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"Hunter, I realize this is new for you, that it feels different
being with everybody for Christmas." His voice is soft and
patient. "I know that, but you're going to have to try."
"Stop it."
"Stop what?"
"Trying to read me, to analyze me like some goddamned
shrink."
He laughs, which seems odd, seeing as how we're
launching into a full-scale argument. "What?" I cry again, my
eyes growing wide, because he doesn't seem angry at all, just
a little sad, as he reaches to cup my face within his palm. This
time I don't pull away.
"Hunter, you're an open book," he says with a faint smile.
"You always think you're such a mystery when the whole
world can read everything about you. Especially me."
"Oh, that's just fucking great. I'm transparent." I grumble
the words, but I find my anger fading. God, why does he have
to be so gentle with me? So loving and clued into all my
emotions, especially when I'm being such an asshole.
"You're perfect," he whispers, leaning low to kiss me. His
lips are soft, and a little salty, as they brush against mine.
"And beautiful and I love you. You know how much I love
you."
"You taste like...nuts," I observe.
"Roasted chestnuts. John did them out on the grill."
I shake my head in disbelief. "This really is going to be like
some kind of Dickens Christmas, isn't it?"
He smiles a long moment, leaning in to kiss me again.
"You can do it."
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"But what if I can't?"
"Then you still have me."
I know he understands, that he gets how hard this is for
me. How my whole life I've felt like an orphan hell, I've been
one, despite Aunt Edna raising me. But there are things at
play here that he doesn't know, that I've never told him, and
I think he understands that too.
I rake a hand through my long hair, blowing out a heavy
breath. The crazy nervousness is fading now, because he's
with me. "I'm trying, Max, I really am. I mean coming here,
and, and..."
He cuts me off. "I know that."
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